Giving Fantasia: The Taking Fantasia Sequel

Chapter 52: Count My Blessings

Chapter 52: Count My Blessings

Once she was able, Wendy ran .

Just as quickly, Peter stopped her.

"Hey! Speedster!" Flying backwards, Peter zig-zagged across Wendy's path. "Slow down! Admiral Triton is way back there, and he'll never know it was you. C'mon – walk with me. Slow down."

Wendy plowed straight ahead.

"I have to get home."

Peter thumped down. "We're almost there. Besides, there's something I want to give – "

Wendy ducked under Peter's arms. "You don't understand I have to get home now."

"Why?" Peter blocked again. "What's your rush – "

"This—I can't wear this!" Frantically Wendy wrung her sweater. She stretched the fabric, pulling the wine stain off her skin. "I can't wear this anymore, I have to take it off, I have to wash it, I can smell it, I can feel it, I just can't wear this – "

"Whoa! Okay, okay. Easy. Eeeeasy. Calm down...here." Peter unbuttoned his shirt. Wearing only his dinner-vest, he offered it to Wendy.

"There. Put this on. It's still damp, but it at least it smells like me. You know -- manly scent: candy canes and pinecones."

Peter waited. He whispered through a cupped hand. "Wendy that was a joke."

Wendy calmed. The joke would have been funny if it weren't true – Peter did smell like candy canes and pinecones.

Wearily she accepted the shirt.

"I'm sorry."

"Eh. Rough night. You're allowed."

Wendy fingered the buttons. "Are you sure? Won't you be cold?"

"Please." Peter flexed. "An excuse to go shirtless? Been working on these babies for six years. Not often I get to show off! You are a very lucky girl."

Wendy did not affirm. But Peter smiled confidently as her eyes flicked over his bare chest. Inwardly, he translated her silence: Yes. Wendy likes very much.

"All right." Peter said. "Spectating hours are over. Go ahead and change."

Wendy circled a hand. "Could you....?"

Peter rolled his eyes, interpreting her signal. Groaning good-naturedly, he spun about face.

Wendy flipped off her sweater. Peter's head slightly turned.

"Peter, don't peek."

"Ha." Peter covered his eyes. "Tease."

"I'm not teasing Peter." There was an edge to Wendy's voice. "Don't look."

Peter frowned under his fingers. She was angry. What did he do now? Sighing, Peter shut his fingers. Begrudgingly he closed his eyes. So close. So, so close. Being a gentleman sucked. Worth it. But sucked.

Wendy's thoughts were similar. Of course, the seeds planted by Tinkerbell were darker, much darker. But they basically equated to 'this sucks.' 

The romantic tension between them was tangible as a spider web. Peter was suffocating with impatience, and Wendy was drowning in indecision. There were too many questions, too many uncertainties: Did she want to make love? No, she wasn't ready. And it was wrong. It was not proper. Right? Right? Right. Why should she make love? Wasn't she enough for Peter, just being herself? And goodness to glory -- if Jim ever found out!  And her mother – what would she think? No. She couldn't. Peter would just have to wait.