201Protégez-Moi De Que Je Veux
Chapter Fourteen – The Act of Love
Saved in the nick of Dawn
Its cornflakes and then goodbye,
Another notch on the headboard
Another day wondering why…
The Act of Love lies somewhere
Between the belly and the mind,
I lost the Love some time ago
Now I've only the act to grind.
The Act of Love – by Anonymous Poet
The wedding was to be held a few weeks after the Valedictory Dinner. My mother had recruited me, somewhat unwillingly, as her head bridesmaid. The only reason I had agreed was because Gabriel had been forced to act as best man. Well… maybe not forced, but definitely blackmailed.
Things between Richard and Gabriel were slowly on the mend. Simply because Gabriel was not his biological son didn't mean that Richard didn't love him any less. Gabriel had realized this, and also that his real issues lay with his mother. Janice hadn't been heard from since the divorce, though I had heard whispers of her trying to strike up a liaison with a prominent politician… and failing.
She hadn't contacted Gabriel at all, and I knew he was hurting about that, but I also knew that he was beginning to like the idea of being related to his best friend.
Mary-Alice, of course, was elated to be asked to be another bridesmaid. That is, at first. Until she found out that she would be partnered by Spencer Crawford. I, of course, had set this up. I thought they made a very cute couple, but were proving very reluctant to get together. But you could see that they wanted it.
It's in the eyes.
The day dawned bright and warm – the perfect day for a wedding. There was a nice breeze blowing through the trees of the venue, carrying the cool air off the water of the lake. It was to be a garden wedding, with the reception to be held back at the Donovan estate.
The Wedding of the Year, it was dubbed by all the local newspapers who had written articles on the infamous love-triangle between my mother, Richard and Janice in the last few weeks, trying to stir up a scandal. However, to anyone who was anyone, they'd discovered the story long ago and didn't pay much attention to the tabloids.
Invites had been sent out, and RSVPs had been collected and counted very carefully. It was to be a small, intimate affair with only our closest family and most trusted friends invited. By small, I mean small by the elite's standards. And by closest family and most trusted friends, I meant everyone in town who had a piece of power or money to their name. You couldn't insult anyone by not inviting them.
So by a small, intimate affair, I mean a mass congregation of over a thousand people with no exaggeration.
Yeah, stunned silence was my reaction, too.
I was nervous as hell again, for the second time in mere weeks. I had received my results from the final exams, and had even been accepted, thanks to a great admissions essay and with the help of Richard, to Yale. I had protested profusely to his donating money to their coffers, but he had done it anyway. No going back now.
Anyway, I was nervous because I had to give a speech – as maid of honor, it was my job. I had to toast the happy couple.
Why does God hate me?
Despite everything, despite all my nerves, the wedding was indeed perfect. My mother… well, she was always beautiful, but when I saw her walk down the aisle towards Richard with all the love she had been feeling for him for so long shining out of her eyes – she was breathtaking.
You hear all those clichés about how women in love have a special light that they seem to radiate, and you scoff. But my mother really did glow, a vision in white.
I, however, was a stormy cloud of disgust.
Bridesmaid dresses. Ugh.
Is there anything more demeaning than to be clad in an absolutely disgusting gown that's designed to ensure that the bride is the most ravishing creature in the room? My answer? No.
I was hideous in multitudes of folds of pale pink chiffon and lace. I had a hoop skirt, and puffy sleeves. And to top that off, I had silk pink gloves that ran from fingertip to elbow. Yes, I know, shudder. Gabriel, the lucky bastard, looked alright in a tux, pale pink vest and tie.
But we weren't the ones in focus – no, that was my mother and Richard.
As the fad is these days, they chose to create their own vows. Well, sort of. They chose the vows that Johnny Depp had to perfect in Corpse Bride – we'd hired it the week before, and they'd gotten all misty-eyed over them. For God's sake, it was a comedy, not a drama or love story!
"With my hand, I will lift your sorrows," Richard murmured lovingly, staring deep into my mother's eyes as he took my mothers hand and held it between them, their fingers twining together. A lump rose in my throat. "Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine."
He poured wine into the offering cup, which was on the table that they'd sign their certificates on after the vows were spoken.
"With this candle," he indicated the lit candle that was also on the table, "I will light your way in darkness." I, mistakenly, looked over at Gabriel and found him staring at me intensely. I smiled nervously, but he didn't. He just continued staring at me, and, knowing the next part of the vows and the meaning that they conveyed, and considering the strange look in Gabriel's eyes, I could only return his gaze, unable to look away from his mesmerizing look.
"With this ring, I ask you to be mine."
Everyone, it seemed, cried when they kissed.
Personally, I don't think that Gabriel or I noticed.
The one thing I wasn't looking forward to was the party after the wedding – the reception. Well, more specifically, the dancing that was, according to my mother, compulsory. Now, I think we can gather from my stark refusal at the formal, but… I don't dance. At all.
Its not that I have two left feet or anything. I just didn't feel comfortable dancing. Never had, never would. There was something exposing about dancing with someone, something that made you feel vulnerable, open. But the worst part by far was I had to dance with Gabriel, who I had managed to avoid since the wedding ceremony.
The look in my mother's eye brooked no argument, however. I was to dance, and dance with Gabriel. I could see he knew I was apprehensive – I could see it in his eyes, in his smile. Cocky. Arrogant. Knowing.
I cursed him silently.
"Care to dance?" He asked smugly, pulling me into the circle of his arms and onto the "dance floor" – it was the back terrace and courtyard decorated with some of the roses from the previous Mrs. Donovan's rose garden. I longed to slap him. Or kick him. Cause him any form of grievous bodily harm, really. I placated myself by stepping on his instep with my heel. I took great pleasure in his grimace.
"Oops," I murmured quietly, smiling evilly as he spun me around effortlessly. "My foot slipped."
"Oh, I'm sure it did," he growled, pulling me closer much to my discomfort. "You look beautiful."
"What, no retaliation? Are you losing your touch?" I asked laughingly, throwing him an incredulous look.
"Hardly," he replied. "I think if anything, I'm perfecting it." He pulled me closer again, so that our bodies were flush against each other. Breast to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh. A highly suggestive position, to be sure. His hands, which had been resting on my waist idly, moved almost imperceptibly, so that his fingers could dip down to caress my hips.
His fingers and the lazy designs he drew burned my flesh even through the light material of the more practical and yet no-less fancy dress I had swapped my hideous bridesmaids gown for.
"Stop it," I hissed, trying to wriggle away from him.
"See," he murmured, bending his head to whisper in my ear. "Doing well, aren't I?"
"Yes, well, you've made your point so cut it out."
"No, I don't think I will," he replied languidly, straightening once more to watch me with an amused expression.
"Asshole," I snapped, careful to keep my voice low enough that the couples dancing near us wouldn't overhear.
His expression cleared, became serious, and a frisson of fear crawled down my spine. "Silence-"
"I don't want to talk," I interrupted. "It's bad enough that I have to dance, let alone with you."
"Feeling slightly antagonistic at all?" He asked, his tone sweet.
I glared at him. "Asshole," I repeated.
"You're starting to repeat yourself," he pointed out. I stepped on his instep again, and smiled when he winced.
"Silence," he continued, despite my repeated attempts to silence him. "You look beautiful tonight."
I eyed him warily, wondering what his angle was. "Thank you," I said eventually. "You don't look half bad yourself."
It was an understatement. Swapping his tux and pink vest and tie for a black suit and white shirt with the top two buttons undone to reveal an impressive patch of tanned and toned chest, Gabriel looked good enough to eat – and if the looks on every female's face in the room was any indication, several of them were contemplating taking a nibble.
I took a kind of sick pride in knowing that he was oblivious to their ravenous looks because he was so focused on me even as I trembled in apprehension under his gaze.
"I want to tell you something," he whispered, so quietly that I almost missed it. He sounded nervous, unsure of himself. For someone as sure of themselves as Gabriel to feel or even just sound uncertain was disconcerting for someone as constantly filled with doubt as I was.
"I'm all ears," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant and flippant and failing. I sounded tense and strained instead.
"Not here," he muttered, pulling me from the dance floor and into the shadows cast by the lights around the terrace and courtyard.
"Where?" I asked, getting caught up in his mysterious atmosphere despite myself.
"Just… not here," he repeated, dragging me in doors and up the stairs.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, pulling up short.
"My room – we can talk there," he replied distractedly.
I didn't stop to think about the impropriety of the situation – going upstairs to his secluded suite of rooms while everyone else was outside in the courtyard below.
I just followed, my heart pumping fast and my mind racing with disjointed thoughts that made no sense to me at all.
When we got to his room, we didn't talk. Well, we didn't have a conversation anyway.
Instead, I turned to him, and, completely on impulse, I kissed him. It was the second time I had ever initiated anything of the sort with him, and, after a few moments of stunned stillness, he responded eagerly. I tried to justify the kiss in my mind afterwards, but I couldn't come up with any other reason than I had wanted to so I did. By nature, I'm not an impulsive person so you can see why he was so surprised.
Normally when we kissed, it was sweet and tender. But that night there was no soft kisses. Instead, I was surprised by the wealth of passion that rose between us so swiftly and so violently. This ardor surpassed even the fiery kiss he'd bestowed upon me the night we fought at the formal.
What followed after that… well, it was more or less a natural progression of events. Hands and lips and teeth and tongues all worked together to create as much pleasure as possible, and finally, I lost the one thing I had not planned on giving to Gabriel, that night or any night in the near future.
How can I describe the sex act? Well, I'm not going to lie and say it's as blissful as all those bodice-ripping romance novels claim – you don't suddenly catapult from reality into a starry ecstasy to spiral among the stars, and you don't suddenly explode. Well, the girl doesn't, anyway.
But neither is it as fearsome or dramatic and bad as your parents would have you believe to keep you from being overly promiscuous with your boyfriend or girlfriend.
It's… uncomfortable. At least at first. And they're right; it does hurt the first time. But that doesn't mean that with a conscientious and caring partner you don't feel pleasure that first time. Because you can.
It's also a little messy, especially the first time. There's blood, only a little, but it's there. Messy and uncomfortable. But pleasurable. With a good partner, very pleasurable.
And Gabriel, with all my limited experience, I could tell was very, very good.
"I love you," he whispered, and I froze. We were laying on his bed waiting for our breathing to return to normal, covered in a light sheen of sweat. I had nearly been asleep. I wondered if I could pretend to be asleep, but knew it was too late. He was far too in-tune with the nuances of my body to not have noticed my initial reaction. "I love you," he repeated, pulling me closer.
I still didn't respond. Love was not what I had expected when I had committed myself to sleeping with him. It was not what I had expected when I had agreed to come up to his rooms with him, nor when I had been coerced into dancing with him, and not even when I had caught his eye while my mother and Richard were exchanging their vows.
I pulled away, taking the sheet with me to cover my nakedness while I searched for errant items of clothing, leaving him proudly stark naked lying in the middle of the bed. I averted my eyes. "We should be getting back to the party; people will notice that we're gone."
"Didn't you hear me?" he asked me, his voice soft as he looked up at me with desire in his eyes. He caught my hand as I bent to retrieve my bra, and tugged me back towards the bed. "I told you I love you."
"I heard," I replied quietly, not looking at him.
"Well?" he prodded, sitting on the side of the bed and tugging me so that I stood trapped between his thighs, his hands resting like iron bands on my waist.
"Well what?" I murmured, shrugging into my bra and my dress that I had picked up off the floor. His hands on my waist prevented the material from settling properly.
"You know very well what, Silence. I told you I love you."
"That doesn't change anything, Gabriel," I lied, pulling away from him with considerable effort.
"That I love you changes nothing?" he asked, incredulous. "I don't believe you."
"Believe it," I replied.
"Bullshit," he snapped. "You can't say you didn't feel anything tonight, Silence. You wouldn't just give your virginity to me if you knew I didn't care and you didn't care."
"Wouldn't I?" I had no idea why I was being so nonchalant about 'giving it up' – I mean, I'd held onto my virginity for 18 long years. And I had no idea why I was being so antagonistic towards Gabriel about it. This was more than just 'being on the backfoot', and every word that escaped my lips unwillingly I longed to take back. But I knew I couldn't.
"Jesus Silence, just give me a fucking straight answer," he snapped. I'd made him angry. A vein throbbed at his temple, and his eyes were the iciest blue I'd ever seen. "I'm sick of your fucking mind games, I'm sick of you jerking me around, making me think you care one minute and then the next letting me know you don't give a fuck. Letting me in and then shutting me out again. It's now or never, Silence: tell me the fucking truth." He was breathing heavily, I wasn't breathing at all. "I love you. Do you love me? Or not?"
I love you, my heart said. But in classic Silence form, my mind was in control, and not my heart.
"Not."
WORD COUNT: 2,698 words (5.75 pages)
TOTAL WORD COUNT: 58,717 words (111.15 pages)
A/N: hello all! What a sad thing it is that I'm such a bitch… okay; I'm in a really weird mood. I've had a mixture of "I got Stoned and I Missed It" and "You Make My Pants Want to Get Up and Dance" by Dr. Hook playing in my head all day, and now I've got Burt Bacharach's "Walk on By" and "I Feel Pretty" by Maria from Westlife. How wrong am I? Rhetorical Question: does not need answering!
This is the end, my friends…
Well, not quite, thought I'd scare you though! Told you I was a bitch! Anywho, in a few days I'll have posted the Epilogue and that will be the end of MPDCQJV.
I know, I know, shed a tear or two…
Bilingual Person: thank you very much for your correction, but still I'm getting mixed corrections from others... lots of people have pointed out that it means to protect me from what I want, but I'm not sure who to go with. Anywho, I'm thinking of going to a French teacher at my school... i dunno. thanks for your review!
Minute-glass: yes, a review... but no, sadly it's not a few years into the future. I'll post an extended summary on my author page as soon as this story is over! Only the epilogue to go!
GrrrL: a few of my friends think things happened too fast, too. But here's the thing: life isn't always going to stop and slow down, and sometimes a few dramatic things do happen right on top of each other. I got a lot of inspiration for this story from some real life things in my own life. I'm sorry if people thought things happened too fast, but that's how the flow was going while I was writing. I don't take it as a negative comment: it's positive constructive criticism, and I thank you for it - it can only make me a better writer! )
Yarrowicefrost: please excuse my ignorance, but what are MOCKS? I'm an aussie - would they be SACs? (school assessed coursework)? or is it like exam preps? anywho, back to the story - I don't think I will play up the drama of Paul's death more - I mean, the whole story is about Silence, who is a very closed-off person, both to others and to her own feelings. I think it would be a break in her personality if she should change and everything be more dramatic. I think that playing it out until she broke in chapter 12 was more true to her character. She's not the type to judt suddenly stop in her tracks and scream "hold on a minute, my world is falling apart, every one pay attention to me". She's more the type to suppress things until they become an issue later on. Thank you for your review!
Thank you to: I love punk boys, SweetxxDreamer, Iced-Faerie, sugarcloud, Drops of Jewpiter, ScjT, TaurusGirl7, Kaika-Suki, and silverbliss.
here's the rest of the poem "The Act of Love" - can't find who it's by but I love it anyways!
THE ACT OF LOVE
The act of love lies somewhere
Between the belly and the mind
I lost the love some time ago
Now I've only the act to grind
Brought her back from a party
Don't bother swapping names
Identity's not needed
When you're only playing games
High on bedroom darkness
We endure the pantomime
Ships that go bang in the night
Run aground on the sands of time
Saved in the nick of dawn
Its cornflakes and then goodbye
Another notch on the headboard
Another day wondering why
The act of love lies somewhere
Between the belly and the mind
I lost the love some time ago
Now I've only the act to grind.