Stop Fighting It

16. Okay, NOW!

MITCH'S POV:

"Hi."

Scott just turned and walked to the kitchen leaving the door open.

I followed and sat at the kitchen counter that divided the kitchen from the dining nook. I spoke softly, "So... how are you feeling?"

Scott turned around and handed me a cold bottle of Izzy soda raspberry, one of my favorite drinks, then opened a lime one for himself. He leaned back against the stove with one arm crossed in front. "Fine. How are you?"

I gave an awkward sigh. "Fine... um.... How are you?" Gawd, I was an idiot.

Scott took a long sip, gave a long sigh of his own and asked, "Was there something you needed? Why are you here?"

"Oh well, since we all agreed to get together to start up rehearsals tomorrow, I thought um .. well... you know... um ... maybe we should... you know... ," I ended that horrific collection of words with "talk." I just looked down at my bottle and decided to just keep my eyes on it for the rest of the day or at least until a hole emerged from under me and swallowed me up.

"Okay. Talk." Damn. Scott was not going to make this easy.

"So ... you're back home now." Yes, he had left the clinic two weeks ago.

"Yes."

Damn it. I had to do this. There just wasn't going to be another way. There couldn't be another way.

I took a long sip of my  Izzy soda, pretended it was straight vodka, put it down and looked up into Scott's eye.

Scott didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry. Just tired. Really, really tired.

"Scott, I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?"

Scott closed his eye and dropped his head. He half mumbled to the floor, "You know my family hates you, right?"


I was shocked. But,why? Yeah, I had broken Scott's heart, perhaps I had something to do with his car accident and losing an eye and may have, in a way, not been there for him. Hurt him to the point where he almost committed suicide, but nobody hates me! Least of all the Hoyings! They don't hate anybody! I felt like I had been slapped in the face... hard.

I stood up and backed away. "Oh god. Of course. Of course they do. God, I'm such an idiot. I'm so stupid. Stupid! Stupid!" my breathing was getting labored, my heart hurt. Of course they hate me. I am hateable. The worst. I was imagining their faces when they learned all that had happened and how it had all been my fault. I was falling into a very, very dark place. Then I felt Scott. He must have walked around the counter while my mind had been racing toward a vision of the Hoyings with pitchforks and torches running at me.

Scott put a hand on my waist, and quickly jerked me toward him, he bent down and captured my lips for a hard kiss.

That snapped me back like a light switch. "Scott," I whispered. I was falling and I was confused. "Scott?"

Scott's eyebrow was furrowed and he looked furious. The black eye patch gave him a menacing look that was honestly hot as hell. Scott bent down again, pulled me in even tighter by wrapping his other hand around my waist and this time explored my mouth like a lion seeking shelter from a thunder storm.

I stopped thinking. I was just a body -- burning, rubbing against another burning body. Scott was radiating fire. I could hardly breathe by the brutality of the kiss. Scott bent and scooped me off my feet bridal style, kicked open his bedroom door and threw me on the bed.

I didn't know if I was going to have sex or be murdered and at the moment I thought I would be fine with either one.

Scott's one eye somehow seemed to see more, convey more than his two eyes ever could. He ripped open his button down shirt, kicked off his shoes and viciously tugged down his pants and briefs. He was at full, hard, attention.

"Fuck." I breathed.

"Yes." said Scott.