Chapter Twelve
I growled, burying my head into his back and wishing I had taken Cam's backseat. At least he wouldn't take random detours through the streets! Why was it that every time I got on the back of his bike he took me on some wild adventure through the streets of London. Flattering as the gesture was, I wanted to bail off the bike. Every time I had been alone with Stitch I felt funny. It was a strange familiarity, but I couldn't place the feeling. Feeling his body against mine was somehow natural with the way our bodies fit together, as if they were made for each other. My heart beat raced with the thought of his body close to mine each time it came to mind, and I found myself with a strange longing for his touch at night. I wanted to be with him when I felt lonely, I wanted him around when I felt like crying. These feelings were something that even Tony hadn't pulled from me, and my feeling them for Stitch, a boy whom I had only barely met, had begun to frighten me. The dreams had become more frequent, and now they weren't just while I slept at night, but when my mind wandered during class, or just sitting, I seemed to drop back into the familiar images. The dreams had become more like an alternate reality now. I wasn't dreaming anymore. It seemed as if I was almost reliving.
We twisted and turned through crowds of people spilling into night clubs and coming home from the restaurants and the movies. I stared at the people through the tinted visor, watching them. There were couples laughing and holding hands, young and old and everything in between. It made me feel alone even if I was clutching Stitch; it just wasn't the same. I wished Tony were here, and it were his bike I was on and not Stitch's. Anything to save me from these feelings. The bike suddenly slowed, and I lifted my head to glance around. Of course I had no idea where we were, but Stitch slowed to a halt on the side of the road, leaving his bike in a parking stall on the side of the road. He stepped off and extended his hand to me, waiting for me to take it. Cautiously I removed my helmet and put my hand in his, feeling my skin flare with heat at contact. I left the helmet on the handlebars and with a heart melting smile he lead me away. We walked hand in hand through the crowds of people, making our way to something in the distance. Stitch walked in a sort of stoic silence in front of me, checking back over his shoulder every so often to make sure I was still there, as if having my hand in his wasn't enough. I started to wonder vaguely if I had fallen asleep and this whole thing was a dream until Stitch picked up speed and my foot splashed into a puddle. With a glare I kept trekking after him, but kept quiet. Finally, we broke out of the shops and crowded streets into a more open area. I glanced around again, and then looming in the distance before us was an incredible sight. I had only ever seen pictures of it, but now, I was staring up at the London Eye, brightly lit, reflecting beautifully off the river Thames. I gasped, raising my free hand to my lips. Stitch led me right to the edge of the road and looked proudly at the enormous wheel, and then at me. The green from the lights made the green in his eyes so intense it seemed as if they were glowing right along with them.
“Jay forgot the best part about this side of town.” he said softly, looking out across the water.
I stepped up to his side, forgetting that my hand still rested in his. “It's beautiful.” I whispered breathlessly.
“I thought you might enjoy it.” He shrugged.
I smiled. “I do, thank you Stitch. It really is beautiful. Do you come out here a lot?”
He paused for a time, staring at the still black water. “Yes, almost every night.” he admitted with a chuckle.
“What? What's so funny?” I pressed, moving closer to him to stare into his eyes.
“Nothing, I just laughed when I realized how much I actually do come out here.”
“Obviously it's special to you, right? Why else would you come out here all the time?”
I watched him as he stared across the river thoughtfully. The silence we shared in that moment was some how comfortable. His lips slowly curled into a reminiscent smile.
“Yes, this place is very special, love...” his voice whispered with the ghost of something past, wishing to be in the present.
“You mind if I ask why?”
He looked at me and paused again. With a warm smile he said, “My... parents were married in the Southwark Cathedral.” he sighed.
I wrinkled my eyebrows. He hadn't ever talked about his parents. Cam, Kitty and Jay were always open about their families, but now that I thought of it, Stitch had never said a word about his family. Though I hadn't known them long, they had been quick to tell me of their siblings and families, and where they lived. Stitch however had been quiet up until now. I didn't quite know how to react. I didn't want to ask about it and bring up a painful memory, but the question tickled my throat. It needed to be asked.
“Oh,” I said lamely, glancing back across the river. Silence pervaded again, but this time it was tensious. “are they... separated?”
He chuckled. “No, love. They're dead.”
I coughed, shocked by his words. He seemed so happy for someone whose parents were dead. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up.”
He smiled, “Don't be. It's okay, I'm fine. They've been dead for so long, it doesn't bother me anymore. They died in an auto accident when I was five, so I was raised by my grandmother, who is now also dead. Don't worry about that one either. Like I said, I'm fine.”
“Still, that's awful. I don't know what I would do without my mom and dad. You're a really tough kid. I would probably crawl into a hole and never come out.”
“I'm sure that isn't the case,” he shook my hand, squeezing it slightly. “You're a strong girl.”
“Oh I wouldn't be too certain if I were you. You hardly know me enough to make such assumptions.”
He chuckled and fell silent. We stood like that for a time, both of us completely silent, but in the silence more was said than we could have had the words for. After a time I could sense his stare, but kept my focus on the bright lights across the river. Everything about the scene was completely enchanting. I watched the distant figures of people move through lights. Closing my eyes I drank it all in. Somewhere in the background music filled my world, soft and gentle, fitting the scene perfectly. I began to sway back and forth, humming the unfamiliar tune as it came along. My gentle swaying turned into slow dancing, and as the music swelled, I was guided into a twirl and pulled into Stitch's chest. His hand fell carefully to the bottom of my shoulder blade, and my hand unconsciously moved to rest daintily on his shoulder as if we had danced this same dance thousands of times. I rested my head on his chest, drinking in his smell, his heartbeat, and the feel of his body against mine. He held me gently, leading me slowly through a graceful dance on the riverside. His cheek rested against the top of my head as we danced closely. The music grew louder, and the noises of the street disappeared. It was as if Stitch and I were alone in the world with only the music and the lights to accompany us. Something deep inside me longed to lift my face to his and taste his lips against mine. He pulled me closer into him, rubbing his cheek against my head, and I felt as if he were almost in pain. I began to pull away, but he held me tight.
After a few more slow and gentle measures the music swelled again and Stitch lead me into a turn, and flourished his hand, lowering me slowly into a deep dip backward. His face was inches from mine, his breath bouncing off my hot cheeks. He raised me slowly to my feet, never taking his eyes off mine, and keeping me close to his body. When I was fully upright again, the world stopped, and I closed my eyes, leaning my face upward toward his. There was a pause, but when I felt his face move toward mine, I panicked. What was I doing?! I had a boyfriend back home. Flinching away from him, I ducked backward into a crowd of people who had stopped to watch us dance. Fidgeting with my shirt I averted my eyes from Stitch, and began to walk back toward the direction of the shops where we had left the bike. My cheeks were blazing, and my heart was racing. My lungs hardly had time to catch enough air before I needed to swallow more. I was beginning to feel dizzy as if I might faint, and suddenly there was a hand gripping my upper arm. I turned with a glare, trying to jerk my arm away, but their hand stayed firm. It was Stitch, and something in his eyes seemed... hurt.
“I'm sorry,” he said suddenly, catching me completely off guard. “I shouldn't have done that. I know you have a boyfriend back home, and I'm sorry for putting you in a position such as that.”
I felt tears well up in the corner of my eyes for a reason completely unknown to myself. “T-thank you.” I whispered, turning my face from him to hide the tears.
He put his arm around me. “I should have thought before I acted. It was selfish of me to think I could steal a pretty girl like you away from Tony. He's one lucky fellow.”
I blinked away the tears rapidly, and looked back at him. “Its okay, I had fun. Thanks for showing me such a beautiful place.”
He nodded and we walked in silence back to the bike. When we arrived there was a piece of paper stuck into the helmet of his bike. He picked it up and unfolded it. Reading it to himself, his face suddenly darkened and he turned angrily to look up and down the street. Quite confused, I began to look around as well, but for who or what, I wasn't sure. Suddenly Stitch shoved the helmet at me.
“Get on, we've got to go.” he said harshly.
It seemed as if the gentle mood he had been in only moments before had been lost completely, and it all had to do with whatever was on that piece of paper. He slipped it into his pocket and mounted his bike, waiting impatiently for me to get on behind him. When I did, he took my arms and pulled them tightly around him, and revved the engine dangerously. Shutting my eyes and praying for my life to be long, I yelped as he tore out of the parking stall and onto the street. They have a reason for telling people not to drive angry. Stitch weaved dangerously through traffic, my knees inches from cars and walls at times as he drove on the sidewalks, weaved through cars on the road, and drove down steps until we reached the school. He zipped through the gates and screeched to a stop in the parking garage, shut off his bike and got off. He turned to me, and I stepped off, leaving the helmet on the handlebars once again. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist forcefully and lead me to the elevator. Slamming the button, he cursed under his breath until the doors dinged open and we stepped inside. He hit my floor button, and then hit the number eight. I assumed that was his floor as the dorms were co-ed. When we reached my floor, the doors opened and he silently motioned for me to go to my room. As I stepped out of the elevator, my foot snagged on the door and I once again found myself falling to the ground. Instantly, Stitch's arms were around my waist, and he was raising me to my feet again.
“Thank you.” I said, brushing myself off as I stood. “I'll see you tomorrow?”
“Good night.” he stepped back into the elevator and pulled the paper out of his pocket.
I watched as the doors closed and he ripped the paper to shreds, angrily cursing in a language I couldn't understand.
i love this story! more! more! haha... you should update it on the perfect strangers tab, so it's all there. i've recommended perfect strangers to a few of my friends. :)
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