Fic: He and I, BrightDelia (Everwood)
Dec. 30th, 2004 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubykatewritingTITLE: He and I
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: BrightDelia
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: “You ready for this?” she asks softly. “As ready as I’m ever going to be,” he replies and she smiles.
DISCLAIMER: All characters - save a couple of originals - are the creations of others. I am only borrowing them. No harm intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
halfway2home for the beta.
-
Delia finds him out back. He is stretched out along the length of the bench, sweaty from shooting hoops. The basketball pops up every few seconds, a brilliant orange globe above the pristine white slats. She smiles, just a little bit, feeling the now-familiar tug between her thighs. Her heart has grown used to him. It only races when he is near.
There is a small pebble she misses in the fading light. Her foot slides along its smoothness, giving her away. She curses herself for wearing the stupid shoes in the first place. Without looking at her, Bright straightens up and scoots down to make room for her. His breathing is heavy; she can hear him inhale. A breeze, unseasonably cool for mid-August, picks up the ends of her hair as she sits down beside him.
“Hey,” he greets; he gives the ball a few test bounces against the pavement. Nerves; he only does that when he’s nervous.
“You’re leaving,” she states flatly, crossing her legs.
She feels him turn towards her. “Delia –"
Shaking her head, she glances off into the distance. She’s afraid to look at him; not entirely sure why. “Amy told me,” she informs him. “She wasn’t aware it was a secret.”
“I’m sorry. I –" He swallows audibly. “I never found the right time.”
Angry, she rounds on him. “We’ve spent nearly every Sunday together since I was ten and you never found the right time to tell me? Bullshit, Bright.”
“Don’t swear,” he replies automatically, staring at his lap.
Rolling her eyes, she leans over, resting her elbows on her knees. Chin tucked in her palm, she tries not to shiver. Her skirt is too short; Brittany talked her into it the last time they went shopping together. She hates it. This is only the second time she’s worn it.
“Where are you going dressed like that?”
She looks over her shoulder at him. “What?”
“That skirt – when did you get that skirt?” The way he says “skirt” almost makes her laugh, but then he notices her top. “And – what the hell is that thing you’re wearing under your jacket?” He pulls her arms away from her body and tugs at her hoodie. Her blouse – another Brittany pick – is little more than a camisole, and a thin one at that. In the right light, her nipples show right through. She planned to meet up with Brittany and Erin tonight. Then Amy dropped this bombshell, as Delia was slipping out the back door.
She so isn’t wearing the right clothes for this.
“Bright, dammit, stop manhandling me! You’re not my father.” She draws her jacket tight around her body. Her breasts ache from the chill (and Bright); they have grown so much in the past year. Still so new, she forgets she even has them sometimes.
“I cannot believe you are wearing that shit, Delia,” he grumbles. “That’s trashy.”
That sends her into the stratosphere. She eyes him for a full minute. “This is nothing compared to the shit I’ve seen some of your skanks wear,” she bites out.
“Hey, don’t swear!”
“Whatever.” She shivers as the breeze kicks up again. Crossing her arms over her chest, she huddles inside her sweatshirt jacket. What started out as a means of getting out of the house is coming in handy.
“Girls,” he groans, pulling her into his side. She rests her head on his shoulder. He’s pretty ripe, but she doesn’t mind. Living with men has accustomed her to their many odors.
“This is weird, you and me,” he says, finally. She hates to admit it, but it’s true. About the time she started getting hips, something changed between them. It wasn’t so much that he suddenly realized she was a girl, but that they both realized there was attraction, underneath everything else.
“I know,” she whispers, close to tears. She wants to hate him. Not just for leaving, but for the fact that this decision was months in the making, and she’s only finding out days before. “I love you,” she confesses softly, finding his gaze. The back porch light comes on and makes the tips of his hair glow.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and part of her is sure he won’t respond. This is more dangerous for him. “I love you, too,” he says, kissing her lightly on the forehead. He smiles sadly. “Dill Pickle, what am I going to do without you?”
“Don’t call me that,” she admonishes half-heartedly. “And you’re going to be lost without me.”
“I know,” he says. He turns slightly, facing her, but the move casts his eyes in shadows. She feels the change in his body. He tenses just a moment before, and then his mouth is on hers. For a second, she is too surprised to do anything. His lips are too warm, too perfect. Leaning into him, she slides her arms around his shoulders and kisses him back.
-
Delia submerges herself completely. The water is deliciously warm and envelops her naked body. It does feel different, thick and heavy against her skin. Thank you, Missy, for being rich, she thinks. Opening her eyes, she watches the blurry outlines of her friends as they float around. They glow aqua and perfect, a gorgeous tableau against the dark blue tiles of the pool.
Her lungsstart to burn; they ache inside her chest. She sputters to the surface, gasping for oxygen. She would guess a minute and a half. (She’s been practicing holding her breath underwater in the bathtub.) She likes the quiet. Her thoughts are muted, pushed to the back of her mind as she concentrates.
Bright isn’t coming home for Christmas. Ephram told her the other day. He was braced for her reaction, watching her across the table. He chose breakfast of all times. She simply nodded and carried her cereal bowl to the sink, let the faucet drown out the last of his careful words.
She turned to look at him. There was so much she wanted to say, but it got all jumbled in the back of her throat. So she left. They haven’t been talking lately. He mostly watches her, like her father,and Nina and Amy report in as well justfor good measure. Since Bright left, Delia has felt the prickly sense of being observed. Only Sam seems oblivious, but he’s ten. Sam still has a few years yet before all of this will matter.
“Missy? Mom wants – Hey, what are you doing in here?”
Delia glances up to find Missy’s older brother Matt standing at the shallow end. She swallows a giggle. Her friends are already squealing, folding their bodies to hide their nudity. They move with amazing speed, clinging to the sides of the pool. “Matt!” Missy screams. “Get out of here!”
He grins, hands at his hips. “There’s nothing here that I haven’t seen many times before,” he tells her, ever the cocky shithead.
His boast gives her an idea. Delia studies him. She doesn’t move. When he finally spies her, his eyes glint with appreciation.
-
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. He sounds so confident. She lets that sink in, lets him warm the chills from her skin. Part of her believes him. The other knows he only thinks she’s beautiful because she’s giving it up.
When he kisses her, it’s easier to forget, to pretend other things. That she is ready for this. That tomorrow, he won’t ignore her at school. With her eyes closed, she can believe almost anything. He thrusts inside her, and she cries out softly, the sound echoing in the pool house. His mouth is on her throat and he promises it’ll get better. It doesn’t. She stares at the ceiling, listening to the rush of his breathing.
This is it. Her first time, and it is nothing like she expects, or with who she expects. She wants to cry, and she does. In the after, he comforts her, awkward with disuse; their bodies are entwined so beautifully, it only makes her cry harder.
But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for a lot of things now.
-
Bright calls a week after the incident. She tries not to think about it, but the lecherous glances in the hallway at school don’t help. A daily reminder of her mistake; that in the eyes of nearly every boy at Everwood Intermediate School, she is a slut.
“What do you want?” she whispers furiously, turning away from her friends. They are at the movies, and Brittany’s eyes keep sliding towards Delia. Her ears are always tuned to fresh gossip.
“Dill –“ He cuts out."– a mistake.”
She gets up from her seat and goes into the lobby. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest.
“– Dill?“ His voice cracks.
“Why are you calling, Bright?” she asks. Bile crawls up the back of her throat.
“I wanted to apologize, about what happened. God, Delia, I let things get out of hand.”
“Don’t, Bright.” Her voice hurts, the words are sharp. Horrified, she starts to gag. She hurries to the bathroom, dashing into a stall. She presses her body against the wall, trying to breathe. Sobs start deep in her chest and shudder all the way out, falling, gasping, from her mouth.
“Delia! Are you there!”
Delia brings the phone back to her ear, but she can’t speak. The stall door opens and Erin is there. She holds out her hand and Delia hands over her cell. She listens as Erin tells Bright that Delia can’t talk to him anymore, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet. The last thing she hears is Erin hitting the end button.
Things used to be simple. She used to have an idea of the girl she was.
-
The next week, when Bobby Redding asks her out, she says yes. Her friends are surprised, and Erin is concerned. She shrugs everyone off. She is determined to purge every bit of Bright Abbott out of her system.
The date is okay. Nothing thrilling. As the lights dim for the previews, he makes a move to kiss her. She doesn’t stop him; she’s bored. When he slides his hand up her skirt, daring enough to try for the whole deal – she doesn’t even try to stop him then. That, isn’t so bad. She realizes what Matt was talking about as Bobby’s fingers fumble about inside her panties.
At the end of the night, he kisses her, and he’s a good kisser. There in the halo of the front porch light, she doesn’t stop him.
-
Amy announces she is pregnant the summer after Delia’s sophomore year. Her brother is all smiles, his hands all over his young wife. Everyone is happy, blissfully fucking happy. It doesn’t matter that Amy is only through her second year of medical school. The prodigal son and the prodigal daughter have mated and created a prodigal offspring! What else could be more perfect?
Delia sulks in the background.
Nearly three years have passed since she last saw Bright. He hasn’t come home once. Ephram and Amy went to see him once, right after they married. The Abbotts go every few months. She can always tell because his mother looks strained around the edges and his father is especially fussy. Most of Dr. Abbott’s fights with her father – the few that seem to arise anymore – follow a visit to Bright’s place in Denver.
-
Delia groans, almost too sore to move. She pulls away reluctantly. “Thomas, it’s late,” she warns, trying to sound annoyed. “My father may be more oblivious than your average parent, but he tends to take notice when his precious daughter doesn’t show up for dinner.”
“Why don’t you stay?” he asks her, lounging naked on the couch. His parents work a lot, and he has the house to himself now that his older brother Bobby is off to college. “Come on. My parents are out all night.” He sees her resolve crumbling. “Call your dad and tell him you’re staying over at Erin’s or Brittany’s.”
She glances at him, curled in on her nudity; she pulls off her socks. He shifts, knees up, and she can’t quite meet his eyes. Flushing, she leans over and grabs her cell from her purse. It is only a moment before Nina answers. “Hey, it’s me. I’m going to stay at Brittany’s tonight. We have tons of homework left to do and it’ll be so late by the time we finish up – yeah, yeah, tell Dad.” She nods, only feeling a little bit guilty for lying. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Yeah. Uh-Huh. Love you too. ‘Bye.”
He grins triumphantly.
“I’m all yours, Thomas,” Delia whispers in her best husky voice, hovering above him.
-
Bright shows up for her high school graduation. She doesn’t like the way her heart stammers inside her chest when she spots him sitting with her family in the stands. He looks handsome, in his jacket and tie.
Eunice Carson elbows her and she realizes she’s up. She smoothes a hand over the front of her gown as she walks up the stairs to the stage. She thinks a litany of curses as she begins the trek, with what feels like a million eyes on her.
Over and over in her head, she pictures her family. It is a motley crew – her mom is there, but so is Nina, and they all fit. This is for Ephram and for her father, for Nina; Irv and Edna, and Amy. Mostly, though, it’s for her mother. She still hates every minute of it, each step an agony. But she accepts her diploma, shakes hands, and turns for her photograph, a smile trembling on her lips.
-
She sits in a lawn chair. It’s the only spot in the backyard almost completely in the dark. Amy was in charge of decorations and went crazy with the Chinese lanterns. They are strewn everywhere, dangling from the porch railing, the lower branches of every tree, and along the gutters. The affect is nice, giving the proceedings a glowing, intimate feel, but Delia wishes she was anywhere else.
It’s warm, one of the first of the season. Perfect weather for an outdoor party. She watches, chin in her hand, as her niece wanders about on bare feet. Her chubby legs are unsteady beneath her, but she doesn’t fall, if only by sheer force of will. Lillie heads straight for her, interested in what Delia has in her plastic cup. It’s punch, sweet and fizzy, which Lillie would drink by the gallon if allowed. It makes her extremely hyper and Amy warned the family that if they gave her any, she was going home with them.
Lillie pokes the cup. “Drink.”
Delia sneaks her a few sips and is rewarded with a toothy smile. The punch leaves a slick red mustache. She wipes Lillie’s mouth with a napkin, glancing around to make sure no one has noticed. Lillie leans against Delia’s legs, watching the partygoers. She’s not a talker, Lillie. That’s the Brown in her. The rest is all Abbott, from her mess of blond curls, to her dark eyes, right down to her bow-legs.
She is so preoccupied with Lillie that she doesn’t see him coming until it’s too late. And suddenly, he is standing there before her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers. Lillie squeals with delight, her arms locking around his knees. He reaches down and picks up his niece easily.
Delia opens her mouth to warn him as Lillie starts squirming in protest. She is going through her “hands off” phase. The only people she lets carry her are her parents and Andy and more recently, Delia. Realizing his gaffe, he lets her down and she rushes off to find Amy, lip jutting out. That’s my girl, Delia thinks, smirking into her cup.
He remains standing, waiting for an invitation. Her neck starts to ache from having to look that far up. Rolling her shoulders, she once again derides her genetics. At her last physical, she topped out at a measly 5’5, having finally faced facts that she had not, as hoped, inherited her mother’s height. And just as he always has, he towers over her. Only now he uses it against her. Groaning inwardly, she invites him to sit.
He seems tired, dark circles under his eyes. For several minutes, he seems content to lean back in his chair and stare up at the sky. They don’t talk, but the silence isn’t wholly uncomfortable.
Glancing around, everyone else is having fun, their chatter filling up the air with a gentle hum. Her friends are scattered all over, most of them avoiding her, since she’s been in a rotten mood all evening. Nina and her father are chatting with Bright’s parents. Edna and Irv are eating at one of the picnic tables. Amy and Ephram sit with them, arms all over each other. Lillie is scampering about, fully recovered from her run-in with her uncle. Sam is talking with Alex Murphy, her most recent ex. Just what she needs. She laments her bad judgment once again. Teach her to date one of her stepbrother’s friends. Snorting, she realizes she is right back to her current predicament.
As if he can sense her irritation, he turns towards her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “What school have you decided on?”
“So that’s what we’re going to do?”
He gives her a look.
She sighs. “Colorado State,” and before he can ask, “I’m majoring in Biomedical Science, then veterinary school after that.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. Light catches the golden hairs at his wrists and the backs of his hands. She stares, wondering if he ever grew hair on his chest. Some guys don’t get that until they’re older and he’ll be twenty-six later this month. There’s no telling what has changed. He grins suddenly and it’s the same grin that made her ten year old self blush, hiding her face under the bill of her baseball cap. She tries not to, biting down on her lip, but she’s smiling all the same.
He gives her knee a light shove. “I’ve missed you, Dill Pickle.”
She glances down at her feet, absurdly glad she let Nina talk her into a pedicure. “Missed you too,” she mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Groaning inwardly, she waves the white flag. She is spineless.
His parents announce their departure a little while later, and he leaves with them, since he’s staying at their house. She stands beside her father; his arm wound proudly around her waist and watches the chaos of their joined and extended families. Then she glances at him and all he’s watching is her.
-
He sends her an email the day he heads back to Denver. She doesn’t get it until later, after he’s gone. She is there to see him off and he gives her a kiss on the cheek in farewell. There is something so possessive about the way he rests his hand at the small of her back, guiding her away from everyone else. She still remembers his mouth, and half expects him to kiss her as he did that night. Her stomach clenches at the thought. This is different, she whispers to herself. That’s when she feels the brush of warm, slightly damp (like he just licked them) lips on her skin. Her eyes flutter closed and it’s like she’s relearning how to breathe.
He promises to look her up the next time he’s in Fort Collins. She starts to ask why he would ever be there. It dawns on her abruptly, and she flushes, nodding at the ground. He’s coming to visit! Then he’s gone and she’s holding Lillie in her arms, the two of them waving him goodbye.
It’s happening, a voice sing-songs inside her head. This is really happening.
-
Her father drives and Nina plays navigator. Sam is in the back with her, and they do crossword puzzles together between taking turns reading aloud from a battered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, their usual traveling book. It has seen them to California and back, up to Mount Rushmore, and down to the Grand Canyon. Between the two of them, they can recite it by heart.
Her roommate is already there, but she has graciously remained packed. She lounges on one of the beds, leaning against the wall, reading. Her eyes are dark and warm as she watches Delia and her family trail in. Tucking curly blond hair behind her ears, she climbs off the bed.
“Hi, I’m Angie,” she greets, holding out her hand to Delia.
“I’m Delia.”
“Nice to meet you.”
There is an awkward pause as Angie waits, and Delia laughs nervously, realizing her bad manners. She turns to her father. “This is my father, and my stepbrother Sam, and this is –" It is the first time she’s had to introduce Nina to anyone outside of their hometown, and she stumbles over the word stepmom. It sounds odd even inside her head, but Nina gives her a reassuring smile. Twining her arm around the older woman’s waist, Delia introduces her, “This is my mom.”
-
It takes several trips to unload the SUV, but too soon, it’s time for them to leave. Delia gives each of them a hug and kiss goodbye. Even Sam cooperates with her. Her eyes fill with tears and when she gets to Nina, they both start crying. This is it. Her life, on her own. This is her beginning. When she goes home again, she will be different, altered slightly from the Delia Brown who left Everwood.
She mouths another “I love you” as they pull away, her throat achy. When she turns back towards the dorm, Angie is standing near the entrance, looking unsure. Smiling, Delia heads towards her and Angie meets her halfway.
“You okay?” Angie asks.
Delia nods, fingers covering her mouth. She doesn’t want to start crying again.
“I know what you mean. Yesterday, I’m standing there, outside the security gate in JFK, and my mom and my sister are sobbing openly. It was all I could do not to just say forget it. I’ll stay. Then the second I get on the plane, I start crying, because it hits me, you know? This is it. My life is starting.”
Delia stops. “You’re from New York?”
Angie nods, bewildered. “Why?”
Delia slips her arm through hers. “I was born there,” she tells her. As they move through the throng of students and families, they chat about the city Delia still loves. Angie is equally smitten. Later, they drive over to the Lory and splurge on a nice sit down dinner.
Like Delia, Angie is also pre-vet, but plans to get a job in a zoo, hopefully (“Fingers crossed.") the Bronx Zoo where she used to go all the time as a kid. There are few awkward pauses throughout the evening, and they are both surprised when they realize four hours have slipped away. Laughing like old friends, they split the bill and head back to Edwards.
Once again in their room, they mutually decide to put off unpacking until tomorrow. Delia kicks off her beat-up Chucks, yawning, then crawls into her bed, fully clothed. Rolling onto her side, she hugs her pillow to her chest, breathing in home, and tries not to think about the dull throb inside her chest.
“Delia?”
“Yeah?”
“Miss home yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too.”
Some time near dawn, Delia falls asleep to the sound of Angie’s soft snore.
-
Delia and Angie are curled up in their beds, watching Poltergeist. The sound of Independent Women, Part 1 makes them both yelp in surprise. Then Delia starts laughing and tumbles out of bed, running to grab her phone from her desk.
“…Hhhello?” she answers breathlessly.
“Hey.” She can hear him smiling on the other end. “What’s so funny?”
“We’re watching Poltergeist,” she explains.
“Uh-huh.”
Delia climbs back into bed, tucking her comforter under her arms. “Well, we’re at that part where the guy starts peeling his face, and then Independent Women, Part 1 started playing out of nowhere. For a full second there, it was pretty freaky. I mean, for all we know it could have been that girl – you know, the one who played Carol Ann – contacting us.”
“She’s dead, and you think the only thing she has going for her is scaring a couple of girls watching Poltergeist?”
“Hey, you never know,” Delia replies indignantly.
“Hold on, you have that as my ringtone?”
“Honey, you rocked my nine year old world,” Delia purrs teasingly, and he laughs.
“That’s a little creepy.”
“No it’s not. You were clueless of my affections at the time, so it’s sweet. Not creepy. Sweet,” she emphasizes the last part.
“All right. We’ll go with sweet.”
She sits there, listening to his breathing. Minutes are lost simply to being there, on the phone with each other. It’s as close as they can get for the moment.
“Well, I wanted to call you before I went to bed,” he says, yawning loudly.
“I’m glad that you called. I like your voice.”
“I like yours too.”
“So we’ll talk later?”
“Yes.”
“’Night,” she breathes, wishing she was curling up with him in bed.
“’Night, Dill Pickle.” He’s gone before she can gripe about the nickname.
Angie rolls onto her side, facing Delia. “Bright?”
“Yeah,” Delia replies wistfully, tossing her phone to the foot of her bed.
“He’s pretty regular. Emails almost daily. Phone calls every night.” Angie looks envious. “How long have you been dating?”
“We’re not. He’s in Denver, I’m here. He’s ‘laying the groundwork.’”
Puzzled, Angie asks, “What does that mean?”
“It means, we talk, we email, but we’re not exclusive. We haven’t even kissed yet.” Delia sighs in frustration, sinking down below the covers.
“You two have never kissed?”
“We have, but that was years ago.” Delia’s voice is muffled. “What this means is the first time we’re face to face again, I’m going to want to just screw his brains out.” She groans, throwing back the covers. “I want him so badly.”
“He’s certainly got it all figured out.”
Delia stares at the ceiling. “Yep.”
-
“What chapter are you on?”
“Thirteen. This is the fourth time I’ve read it. I assume this is supposed to start making sense eventually. Or is this some elaborate ruse set up by the English Department?”
Angie chokes back a laugh, making sure to keep a weather eye out for the librarian. “With Professor Ringhouse as the mastermind behind it all.”
Delia points at her with her pen. “See, you laugh, but that’s exactly what they want you to do. They’re lulling you into a sense of complacency.”
“Sure,” Angie replies slowly, arching a brow suspiciously. “You haven’t been hiding a predilection for conspiracy theories from me, have you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good, because I get enough of that from my uncle Milty.”
“Really? Is he as bad as Mel Gibson in that movie?”
“He’s not quite there yet. And I stress yet.”
“Wow. We don’t have one of those in Everwood. We have a guy who can hear things when people talk, but no conspiracy theorists.”
Angie sits up, resting her elbows on the table. “Wait a minute, he can hear things? Like what?”
Delia fidgets, bouncing her legs beneath the table. “He can hear snippets of people’s future. Sometimes he’ll predict someone is going to come down with something, or he’ll know something is going to happen to you. Like this one time, he predicted a flood and it flooded in Houston.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“That is so cool.”
-
After midterms, they decide to celebrate. It is cold out, in the low forties, and Delia shivers under her three layers of Angie’s clothes – t-shirt, cardigan sweater, vintage corduroy jacket with a multi-colored scarf wrapped artfully around her neck. She looks like a bohemian, her hair loose around her shoulders. Angie was sick of seeing her in baggy sweatshirts and jeans, and decided to dress her this morning. Delia didn’t mind one way or the other, as long as she was warm. She shoots her roommate a murderous glare.
Thanksgiving break is just around the corner. Bright wrote her this morning about coming to pick her up so they could drive home together. It is out of his way, but he is closer than her family. It seems the logical thing to do, but she is still trying to figure out how to explain it to her father. This means quality alone time in the car with him, so she’s willing to put up with a little bit of suspicion.
Grinning, Delia suddenly doesn’t feel quite so cold. Angie seems relieved and tucks an arm through Delia’s, the two huddling together against the wind. They have some mail to drop off, and they’ve decided to splurge on dinner, a toast to their survival. Just as Angie’s cell starts to sing, Delia catches sight of a familiar pair of shoulders, of soft, golden curls in the brisk wind. He has his back to her, looking around the grounds.
It can’t be, she thinks, but calls out his name just in case. He turns and a grin sweeps across his face. Ecstatic, she breaks into a run and launches herself into his open arms. He stumbles a bit, into the side of his truck, but his hands are warm against her butt as he holds her close. She smacks hurried kisses all over his face, bubbling over with joy. He’s here! He’s here!
He jokes that she seems happy to see him, but half of it is lost inside her mouth. She uses this to her full advantage and slips her tongue between his lips. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it and kisses her back.
Angie clears her throat repeatedly before Delia finally pulls away. Still in his arms, Delia introduces them. Bright, this is Angie. Angie, this is Bright. Her roommate just shakes her head, laughing, and informs her that she has to bail on dinner.
“Sister is in the middle of a crisis,” she says cryptically, and when Bright isn’t looking, she winks at Delia.
-
Delia goes back with him to his hotel. They walk through the lobby and she’s giggly from nerves. There has never been this level of pressure, being with someone she is in love with. He squeezes her hand as they step onto the elevator. The doors close silently, and he pulls her in for another kiss. It manages to calm her.
Their kisses grow more searching as they stumble down the hall. His room is all the way at the end. She moans, impatient to be there already, and he laughs into her mouth. Her hand reaches between their bodies and cups his groin. Groaning, he curves inward, trying to move away, muttering something about too soon, before he’s pushing her against a random door. His tongue skims her teeth, and she sucks on it, fingers tugging at his belt. She is a wild thing, hungry for him.
This is the part she knows by rote: desire, the initial anticipation of joining. To feel the rush of a man slipping inside her body, the unique pressure of penetration stretching her. For a brief moment, it’s enough, and she is happy. Afterward is different, as if she is waking from a great spell. It is not the fairytale she’s been fed from childhood. She isn’t with someone special, someone she loves, but just another boy. It was a long time before she could look herself in the mirror. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she tries to push away the memories.
His hands still hers and she looks up, confused. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Where are you?” he demands, his voice hard. “I mean, shit, do you even see me?”
“Bright,” she pleads, taking both of his hands in hers. “It’s just … scary for me. I haven’t been with anyone in awhile.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I’m terrified of messing it up! God, Bright, I have never made love before. It was never anything close to what’s going to happen with us.”
“Shit, Dill,” he whispers. "I’m sorry." He cups her face. “Why should I be surprised? You’ve always made me crazy. Even before you were supposed to.”
“Well if it helps, I’ve always been hopeless over you,” she whispers.
-
Delia lifts her hips and shimmies a little, and Bright pulls her pants off. She is left with only her underwear; a thong she bought on impulse during her last trip to Target. Flushing with pleasure, she notices his eyes dilate. He mumbles something, his voice thick against her belly.
“Those are –“ He stops, gulping.
She shakes her head and laughs. “It’s only underwear, Bright.”
He is serious. “You’re beautiful.”
Her smile fades as he shifts above her. She pushes him onto his back. He is hers for the night, and she’s going to enjoy every bit of him. She skims a hand down his chest, noting how much darker she is than him (he’s always been fair). His body is still toned, though he’s never been ripped. He wears his muscles as if he earned them the honest way – a good day’s labor. Delia presses closer, breathing him in. He smells good, and she runs her hands up his arms, trailing her fingers along the undersides until she gets to his armpits. The hair there is coarser, a deeper shade of blond. He laughs suddenly, clamping his arms down over her hands.
“Anywhere else,” he pleads.
“It’s going away in the memory bank,” she promises.
He frees her hands. Giving him the once-over, she lets her fingers trail across his chest, down. She traces the rim of his belly button and his abs quiver in response.
She clutches at the waistband of his boxers, eager to get a look at him. She wants to touch him. Brows knotted together in concentration, she eases the garment down, careful not to do any damage in the process. He winces as her fingers grasp him, fondle him. She catches his mouth with hers, moving her hands around to cup his buttocks. Rolling her hips, she moves herself against his erection.
He’ll be a tight fit.
He moans, and she can’t wait any longer. Desperation sinks its teeth into the both of them. He hops up to get the box of condoms, and she lies back on the bed. Enjoys the view as he searches the room completely naked. Too late, they both realize they left them in the truck. Miserably, he sits down on the side of the bed. He reaches for his boxers.
She grabs his hand, stopping him. She wants this so badly. “I’m on the pill,” she admits.
He squints at her, clearly in distress. “Are you sure?”
“God, yes,” she practically whimpers. She pulls her knees to her chest and wriggles out of her panties. She curves her hand around the back of his neck. “Come here.”
He does, pushing at the cleft between her thighs, and she helps him, guiding him inside her body. He moans loudly, and she gnaws on her lower lip. It is uncomfortable, not quite as bad as her first time, but nearly. He goes slow, murmuring comforting words in her ear. She doesn’t respond, trying to lift up a little, alter the angle, anything to ease the discomfort. Ridiculously, the memory of her first gynecology visit flits into her head. Dr. Lewis told her, in her soothing voice, “Just breathe, Delia. Let your knees fall all the way, as far as they’ll go, and relax your hips.” Closing her eyes, she lets her thighs fall slack.
“Oh, God,” Bright grunts, penetrating deeper than before, and she would laugh if it didn’t feel so amazing. She looks down, where they join; his hand is there, between their bodies. He rubs her clit, and she shouts in response, back like a bow. Suddenly, she can feel him everywhere, over her, inside her. He is the beat of her heart, thumping wildly in her chest. He moves his leg ever so slightly, and she cries out again, nails cutting into his sides.
His head falls forward, the sound of his breathing muffled by the pillow. His arms strain with his weight as he rocks his hips. She holds him tight, pushing her face into his chest, half-afraid she’s leaving marks on his back. Her hips ache from the width of him, but she presses her feet into the mattress anyway, meeting every thrust.
Her orgasm tears through her, and from a distance, she hears Bright groan, their bodies matching studies, strung tight.
-
She brushes her teeth while he takes a shower. He likes to hum while he washes, and she smiles at her reflection. This is better than anything she’s ever imagined.
“Hey, Delia?”
“Yeah?” she asks,pullingthe toothbrush out of her mouth.
“Are you seeing anybody here?”
Delia leans over, spitting into the sink. “No, why?” She turns the faucet on low, so she can still hear him.
He pokes his head out of the curtain. “Just making sure.”
She rinses out her mouth with water and gives her lips a quick swipe withthe handtowel. “What about you?” Hopping onto the vanity, she watches him as he dries off.
He looks surprised by the question. “I was,” he admits, “but it was before your graduation. When I got back to Denver, I broke things off.” His eyes sparkle as he steps towards her, naked as jaybird. “I realized it wasn’t what I wanted anymore.”
“Good to hear.”
His hands are persistent, caressing her bare thighs. “You know, checkout isn’t for another two hours,” he reminds her.
“Well, then we better not waste it.”
-
He picks her up just after dawn the day before Thanksgiving. She wears her hair down, a knit cap Angie made for her pulled low over her ears. It is blistery outside, and there’s sure to be snow.
After an hour or so, she decides it’s now or never. It’s been worrying her since Angie brought it up. “Bright?”
“Hmm?”
“We’re going to tell them, right?”
Briefly, he glances at her, brow furrowed. “What?”
“About us.”
“You ready for that?”
Delia feels slightly nauseated at the idea. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”
“Then we’ll tell them.”
Halfway there, they pull over at a rest stop. It is difficult at first, both of them trapped away in jeans, but they manage. After, as they repair their rumpled clothes, Bright catches sight of snow flurries in the sphere of his headlights. He quickly puts the truck into gear and speeds up the entrance ramp onto the highway. She doesn’t even tell him to slow down, fear winding its way through her belly. They’re miles from anywhere and the snow only gets heavier as they get closer to the Rockies.
Finally, she spies a sign advertising a motel nearby. He exits and they find it without any trouble. The vacancy sign flashes. Only two cars sit in the parking lot. Bright parks outside the manager's office and runs inside while she waits in the truck, keeping the heater going.
When they get inside their room, he grabs a couple towels to wipe them free of excess snow. They dump their bags on the extra bed, and call their folks to let them know they’re safe. It is late by the time they hurry across the parking lot towards the 24-hour diner. Both of them are starving. Over dinner, the storm settles down, but visibility is still too iffy, especially going through the mountains.
Delia can’t say she’s upset by the delay. She eats all of her fries and half of his, while they flirt and kiss. She loves hearing him talk about how much he likes his job, how much he loves working with the kids. She rubs his thigh and listens, watching his face light up. It’s amazing, the man he’s grown into.
It is full dark by the time they pay the check and head back to the room. She is drowsy, both from the food and the last few hours on the road. He carries her piggyback most of the way. Half-asleep, she slides down his back, weaving where she stands. He takes off her coat, then her jeans and hiking boots, tucking her socks into them. The room is freezing and she shivers, wearing only her sweatshirt and panties. Delia starts to pull off her sweatshirt, but he warns her she’ll get cold.
"You'll just have to keep me warm," she tells him, tugging it over her head. If she wasn’t so tired, it may have sounded sexy, but she yawns halfway through. Grinning, he strips down to his t-shirt and boxers.
He pulls back the covers and she crawls onto the squeaky mattress. He slides innext to her, tugging her back against him, and presses a kiss on her shoulder. She could get used to this.
-
She takes over the wheel halfway to Everwood, while he takes a nap. A little after after noon, she pulls up in front of her house. There are dark circles under his eyes and they don’t belong wholly to her. He stayed up late the few days prior to break, working out his lesson plans so he wouldn’t have to worry about them when he returned to Denver Sunday night. The hours they spent in the motel, dozing and making love, didn’t help matters though. Regretfully, she reaches over to wake him.
“Bright,” she whispers, gently shaking him. “Bright, wake up.”
He yawns loudly, eyes fluttering open. “We’re here?” he asks around another yawn.
“My house,” Delia replies, pointing behind him.
Scooting into a sitting position, he looks out the passenger window. “There it is,” he says and glances back at her. “Home sweet home.”
Nodding, she stares at it, starting to dread these next few days. There is no question, she has missed her family. Part of her can’t wait to run inside and be their Delia again. But the other part knows she isn’t that girl anymore and it will not be the same. Bright nods, as if to say, “Been there,” and smiles wistfully.
He helps her with her bags, carrying them all the way upstairs to her bedroom. He remarks on the queen-sized bed; he hasn’t been up here since his appendix burst. After he sets her stuff down by the dresser, he sits down, bouncing a little, as if testing the mattress’ resilience. She laughs, tumbling onto him. Pointing at him, she declares him a lecherous old man. He argues back that she seemed quite eager to take advantage of that old man last night. They lay there for several minutes. He stares up at the ceiling, and she lies with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand finds hers and he fiddles with her fingers.
Her room is exactly as it was the day she left. Nina put fresh sheets on the bed, but nothing has been moved. It’s comforting to know this won’t change. Even Ephram’s room has remained intact and he’s been out of the house for years.
“This is weird,” she says.
“What?”
“You in my room, my bed.”
Bright makes a noise then, like a grunt. Delia looks up, and he puts a finger to his lips. Grinning mischievously, he unzips the fly of her jeans. His fingers are cold against her belly and she lets out a gasp. He pauses, but she gives her ascent. Chewing her lower lip, she waits in anticipation, eyes locked with his.
It is chaos downstairs. Sam and his friends are loud. They're playing a video game in the living room. Her father is in town, at the office, finishing up paperwork. And Nina is out shopping, picking up last minute items for the holiday menu. She falls back, hardly able to draw air, as his thumb rubs against her clit, then down, and into her. One finger, then two, and she clamps her thighs closed, rolling her hips with him. All the while, she can’t look away from his face, the way he watches her. As if he’s trying to memorize her, every flicker of emotion. It mixes with what he’s doing to her body, and she’s almost there. God. Almost. Nodding, he pulls her face into his chest and she sets her teeth around a mouthful of his sweatshirt, moaning. Her entire body shakes, and his other hand drifts down, inside her jeans, cupping her ass.
Tears sting the backs of her eyes. She blinks them away, coming back to herself. Her cries weren’t completely muffled, but it’s enough, she hopes, with Sam preoccupied. A flush creeps up her neck as he pulls his hand free, the sound as his fingers leave her body. He licks his lips, then his fingers, one at a time, and she turns a deep shade of crimson. She wants to rip his clothes off and take him right there.
As she helps him push his jeans and boxers down, they hear Nina come in downstairs, hear her talking to Sam. Delia listens, heart a jarring throb inside her chest, as Sam informs her that Delia’s home. Panicked, Bright jerks his pants up over his butt. She tries to stop her hands from shaking long enough to close her jeans. On their way out, she smoothes out the comforter. He finger-combs her hair as they hurry down the hallway towards the staircase. They hadn’t even closed the door. Anyone could have caught them, just walking by.
When she glances at Bright, she notices how pale he is. This is not the way they want to announce their relationship.
No one is the wiser. Nina only comments about the dark circles under her eyes, clucking like a mother hen. Delia can’t help but smile. It is the only fuss made, before hugs and kisses are dispensed with and she falls back into Delia Brown, daughter.
Bright heads to his parents, and she helps Nina put away the groceries.
-
Delia sneaks out to meet him by the garage. The Abbott's are hosting Thanksgiving dinner at theirhousethis year. Glancing around, memories of that night fill her head.Not all of it was bad. She's still holding out for her happy ending.
Bright comes up behind her, arms slipping around her shoulders. She reaches up to squeeze his hand. "You ready for this?” she asks softly.
“As ready as I’m ever going to be,” he replies and she smiles.
End
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: BrightDelia
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: “You ready for this?” she asks softly. “As ready as I’m ever going to be,” he replies and she smiles.
DISCLAIMER: All characters - save a couple of originals - are the creations of others. I am only borrowing them. No harm intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to
halfway2home for the beta.-
Delia finds him out back. He is stretched out along the length of the bench, sweaty from shooting hoops. The basketball pops up every few seconds, a brilliant orange globe above the pristine white slats. She smiles, just a little bit, feeling the now-familiar tug between her thighs. Her heart has grown used to him. It only races when he is near.
There is a small pebble she misses in the fading light. Her foot slides along its smoothness, giving her away. She curses herself for wearing the stupid shoes in the first place. Without looking at her, Bright straightens up and scoots down to make room for her. His breathing is heavy; she can hear him inhale. A breeze, unseasonably cool for mid-August, picks up the ends of her hair as she sits down beside him.
“Hey,” he greets; he gives the ball a few test bounces against the pavement. Nerves; he only does that when he’s nervous.
“You’re leaving,” she states flatly, crossing her legs.
She feels him turn towards her. “Delia –"
Shaking her head, she glances off into the distance. She’s afraid to look at him; not entirely sure why. “Amy told me,” she informs him. “She wasn’t aware it was a secret.”
“I’m sorry. I –" He swallows audibly. “I never found the right time.”
Angry, she rounds on him. “We’ve spent nearly every Sunday together since I was ten and you never found the right time to tell me? Bullshit, Bright.”
“Don’t swear,” he replies automatically, staring at his lap.
Rolling her eyes, she leans over, resting her elbows on her knees. Chin tucked in her palm, she tries not to shiver. Her skirt is too short; Brittany talked her into it the last time they went shopping together. She hates it. This is only the second time she’s worn it.
“Where are you going dressed like that?”
She looks over her shoulder at him. “What?”
“That skirt – when did you get that skirt?” The way he says “skirt” almost makes her laugh, but then he notices her top. “And – what the hell is that thing you’re wearing under your jacket?” He pulls her arms away from her body and tugs at her hoodie. Her blouse – another Brittany pick – is little more than a camisole, and a thin one at that. In the right light, her nipples show right through. She planned to meet up with Brittany and Erin tonight. Then Amy dropped this bombshell, as Delia was slipping out the back door.
She so isn’t wearing the right clothes for this.
“Bright, dammit, stop manhandling me! You’re not my father.” She draws her jacket tight around her body. Her breasts ache from the chill (and Bright); they have grown so much in the past year. Still so new, she forgets she even has them sometimes.
“I cannot believe you are wearing that shit, Delia,” he grumbles. “That’s trashy.”
That sends her into the stratosphere. She eyes him for a full minute. “This is nothing compared to the shit I’ve seen some of your skanks wear,” she bites out.
“Hey, don’t swear!”
“Whatever.” She shivers as the breeze kicks up again. Crossing her arms over her chest, she huddles inside her sweatshirt jacket. What started out as a means of getting out of the house is coming in handy.
“Girls,” he groans, pulling her into his side. She rests her head on his shoulder. He’s pretty ripe, but she doesn’t mind. Living with men has accustomed her to their many odors.
“This is weird, you and me,” he says, finally. She hates to admit it, but it’s true. About the time she started getting hips, something changed between them. It wasn’t so much that he suddenly realized she was a girl, but that they both realized there was attraction, underneath everything else.
“I know,” she whispers, close to tears. She wants to hate him. Not just for leaving, but for the fact that this decision was months in the making, and she’s only finding out days before. “I love you,” she confesses softly, finding his gaze. The back porch light comes on and makes the tips of his hair glow.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and part of her is sure he won’t respond. This is more dangerous for him. “I love you, too,” he says, kissing her lightly on the forehead. He smiles sadly. “Dill Pickle, what am I going to do without you?”
“Don’t call me that,” she admonishes half-heartedly. “And you’re going to be lost without me.”
“I know,” he says. He turns slightly, facing her, but the move casts his eyes in shadows. She feels the change in his body. He tenses just a moment before, and then his mouth is on hers. For a second, she is too surprised to do anything. His lips are too warm, too perfect. Leaning into him, she slides her arms around his shoulders and kisses him back.
-
Delia submerges herself completely. The water is deliciously warm and envelops her naked body. It does feel different, thick and heavy against her skin. Thank you, Missy, for being rich, she thinks. Opening her eyes, she watches the blurry outlines of her friends as they float around. They glow aqua and perfect, a gorgeous tableau against the dark blue tiles of the pool.
Her lungsstart to burn; they ache inside her chest. She sputters to the surface, gasping for oxygen. She would guess a minute and a half. (She’s been practicing holding her breath underwater in the bathtub.) She likes the quiet. Her thoughts are muted, pushed to the back of her mind as she concentrates.
Bright isn’t coming home for Christmas. Ephram told her the other day. He was braced for her reaction, watching her across the table. He chose breakfast of all times. She simply nodded and carried her cereal bowl to the sink, let the faucet drown out the last of his careful words.
She turned to look at him. There was so much she wanted to say, but it got all jumbled in the back of her throat. So she left. They haven’t been talking lately. He mostly watches her, like her father,and Nina and Amy report in as well justfor good measure. Since Bright left, Delia has felt the prickly sense of being observed. Only Sam seems oblivious, but he’s ten. Sam still has a few years yet before all of this will matter.
“Missy? Mom wants – Hey, what are you doing in here?”
Delia glances up to find Missy’s older brother Matt standing at the shallow end. She swallows a giggle. Her friends are already squealing, folding their bodies to hide their nudity. They move with amazing speed, clinging to the sides of the pool. “Matt!” Missy screams. “Get out of here!”
He grins, hands at his hips. “There’s nothing here that I haven’t seen many times before,” he tells her, ever the cocky shithead.
His boast gives her an idea. Delia studies him. She doesn’t move. When he finally spies her, his eyes glint with appreciation.
-
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. He sounds so confident. She lets that sink in, lets him warm the chills from her skin. Part of her believes him. The other knows he only thinks she’s beautiful because she’s giving it up.
When he kisses her, it’s easier to forget, to pretend other things. That she is ready for this. That tomorrow, he won’t ignore her at school. With her eyes closed, she can believe almost anything. He thrusts inside her, and she cries out softly, the sound echoing in the pool house. His mouth is on her throat and he promises it’ll get better. It doesn’t. She stares at the ceiling, listening to the rush of his breathing.
This is it. Her first time, and it is nothing like she expects, or with who she expects. She wants to cry, and she does. In the after, he comforts her, awkward with disuse; their bodies are entwined so beautifully, it only makes her cry harder.
But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for a lot of things now.
-
Bright calls a week after the incident. She tries not to think about it, but the lecherous glances in the hallway at school don’t help. A daily reminder of her mistake; that in the eyes of nearly every boy at Everwood Intermediate School, she is a slut.
“What do you want?” she whispers furiously, turning away from her friends. They are at the movies, and Brittany’s eyes keep sliding towards Delia. Her ears are always tuned to fresh gossip.
“Dill –“ He cuts out."– a mistake.”
She gets up from her seat and goes into the lobby. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest.
“– Dill?“ His voice cracks.
“Why are you calling, Bright?” she asks. Bile crawls up the back of her throat.
“I wanted to apologize, about what happened. God, Delia, I let things get out of hand.”
“Don’t, Bright.” Her voice hurts, the words are sharp. Horrified, she starts to gag. She hurries to the bathroom, dashing into a stall. She presses her body against the wall, trying to breathe. Sobs start deep in her chest and shudder all the way out, falling, gasping, from her mouth.
“Delia! Are you there!”
Delia brings the phone back to her ear, but she can’t speak. The stall door opens and Erin is there. She holds out her hand and Delia hands over her cell. She listens as Erin tells Bright that Delia can’t talk to him anymore, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet. The last thing she hears is Erin hitting the end button.
Things used to be simple. She used to have an idea of the girl she was.
-
The next week, when Bobby Redding asks her out, she says yes. Her friends are surprised, and Erin is concerned. She shrugs everyone off. She is determined to purge every bit of Bright Abbott out of her system.
The date is okay. Nothing thrilling. As the lights dim for the previews, he makes a move to kiss her. She doesn’t stop him; she’s bored. When he slides his hand up her skirt, daring enough to try for the whole deal – she doesn’t even try to stop him then. That, isn’t so bad. She realizes what Matt was talking about as Bobby’s fingers fumble about inside her panties.
At the end of the night, he kisses her, and he’s a good kisser. There in the halo of the front porch light, she doesn’t stop him.
-
Amy announces she is pregnant the summer after Delia’s sophomore year. Her brother is all smiles, his hands all over his young wife. Everyone is happy, blissfully fucking happy. It doesn’t matter that Amy is only through her second year of medical school. The prodigal son and the prodigal daughter have mated and created a prodigal offspring! What else could be more perfect?
Delia sulks in the background.
Nearly three years have passed since she last saw Bright. He hasn’t come home once. Ephram and Amy went to see him once, right after they married. The Abbotts go every few months. She can always tell because his mother looks strained around the edges and his father is especially fussy. Most of Dr. Abbott’s fights with her father – the few that seem to arise anymore – follow a visit to Bright’s place in Denver.
-
Delia groans, almost too sore to move. She pulls away reluctantly. “Thomas, it’s late,” she warns, trying to sound annoyed. “My father may be more oblivious than your average parent, but he tends to take notice when his precious daughter doesn’t show up for dinner.”
“Why don’t you stay?” he asks her, lounging naked on the couch. His parents work a lot, and he has the house to himself now that his older brother Bobby is off to college. “Come on. My parents are out all night.” He sees her resolve crumbling. “Call your dad and tell him you’re staying over at Erin’s or Brittany’s.”
She glances at him, curled in on her nudity; she pulls off her socks. He shifts, knees up, and she can’t quite meet his eyes. Flushing, she leans over and grabs her cell from her purse. It is only a moment before Nina answers. “Hey, it’s me. I’m going to stay at Brittany’s tonight. We have tons of homework left to do and it’ll be so late by the time we finish up – yeah, yeah, tell Dad.” She nods, only feeling a little bit guilty for lying. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Yeah. Uh-Huh. Love you too. ‘Bye.”
He grins triumphantly.
“I’m all yours, Thomas,” Delia whispers in her best husky voice, hovering above him.
-
Bright shows up for her high school graduation. She doesn’t like the way her heart stammers inside her chest when she spots him sitting with her family in the stands. He looks handsome, in his jacket and tie.
Eunice Carson elbows her and she realizes she’s up. She smoothes a hand over the front of her gown as she walks up the stairs to the stage. She thinks a litany of curses as she begins the trek, with what feels like a million eyes on her.
Over and over in her head, she pictures her family. It is a motley crew – her mom is there, but so is Nina, and they all fit. This is for Ephram and for her father, for Nina; Irv and Edna, and Amy. Mostly, though, it’s for her mother. She still hates every minute of it, each step an agony. But she accepts her diploma, shakes hands, and turns for her photograph, a smile trembling on her lips.
-
She sits in a lawn chair. It’s the only spot in the backyard almost completely in the dark. Amy was in charge of decorations and went crazy with the Chinese lanterns. They are strewn everywhere, dangling from the porch railing, the lower branches of every tree, and along the gutters. The affect is nice, giving the proceedings a glowing, intimate feel, but Delia wishes she was anywhere else.
It’s warm, one of the first of the season. Perfect weather for an outdoor party. She watches, chin in her hand, as her niece wanders about on bare feet. Her chubby legs are unsteady beneath her, but she doesn’t fall, if only by sheer force of will. Lillie heads straight for her, interested in what Delia has in her plastic cup. It’s punch, sweet and fizzy, which Lillie would drink by the gallon if allowed. It makes her extremely hyper and Amy warned the family that if they gave her any, she was going home with them.
Lillie pokes the cup. “Drink.”
Delia sneaks her a few sips and is rewarded with a toothy smile. The punch leaves a slick red mustache. She wipes Lillie’s mouth with a napkin, glancing around to make sure no one has noticed. Lillie leans against Delia’s legs, watching the partygoers. She’s not a talker, Lillie. That’s the Brown in her. The rest is all Abbott, from her mess of blond curls, to her dark eyes, right down to her bow-legs.
She is so preoccupied with Lillie that she doesn’t see him coming until it’s too late. And suddenly, he is standing there before her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers. Lillie squeals with delight, her arms locking around his knees. He reaches down and picks up his niece easily.
Delia opens her mouth to warn him as Lillie starts squirming in protest. She is going through her “hands off” phase. The only people she lets carry her are her parents and Andy and more recently, Delia. Realizing his gaffe, he lets her down and she rushes off to find Amy, lip jutting out. That’s my girl, Delia thinks, smirking into her cup.
He remains standing, waiting for an invitation. Her neck starts to ache from having to look that far up. Rolling her shoulders, she once again derides her genetics. At her last physical, she topped out at a measly 5’5, having finally faced facts that she had not, as hoped, inherited her mother’s height. And just as he always has, he towers over her. Only now he uses it against her. Groaning inwardly, she invites him to sit.
He seems tired, dark circles under his eyes. For several minutes, he seems content to lean back in his chair and stare up at the sky. They don’t talk, but the silence isn’t wholly uncomfortable.
Glancing around, everyone else is having fun, their chatter filling up the air with a gentle hum. Her friends are scattered all over, most of them avoiding her, since she’s been in a rotten mood all evening. Nina and her father are chatting with Bright’s parents. Edna and Irv are eating at one of the picnic tables. Amy and Ephram sit with them, arms all over each other. Lillie is scampering about, fully recovered from her run-in with her uncle. Sam is talking with Alex Murphy, her most recent ex. Just what she needs. She laments her bad judgment once again. Teach her to date one of her stepbrother’s friends. Snorting, she realizes she is right back to her current predicament.
As if he can sense her irritation, he turns towards her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “What school have you decided on?”
“So that’s what we’re going to do?”
He gives her a look.
She sighs. “Colorado State,” and before he can ask, “I’m majoring in Biomedical Science, then veterinary school after that.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. Light catches the golden hairs at his wrists and the backs of his hands. She stares, wondering if he ever grew hair on his chest. Some guys don’t get that until they’re older and he’ll be twenty-six later this month. There’s no telling what has changed. He grins suddenly and it’s the same grin that made her ten year old self blush, hiding her face under the bill of her baseball cap. She tries not to, biting down on her lip, but she’s smiling all the same.
He gives her knee a light shove. “I’ve missed you, Dill Pickle.”
She glances down at her feet, absurdly glad she let Nina talk her into a pedicure. “Missed you too,” she mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Groaning inwardly, she waves the white flag. She is spineless.
His parents announce their departure a little while later, and he leaves with them, since he’s staying at their house. She stands beside her father; his arm wound proudly around her waist and watches the chaos of their joined and extended families. Then she glances at him and all he’s watching is her.
-
He sends her an email the day he heads back to Denver. She doesn’t get it until later, after he’s gone. She is there to see him off and he gives her a kiss on the cheek in farewell. There is something so possessive about the way he rests his hand at the small of her back, guiding her away from everyone else. She still remembers his mouth, and half expects him to kiss her as he did that night. Her stomach clenches at the thought. This is different, she whispers to herself. That’s when she feels the brush of warm, slightly damp (like he just licked them) lips on her skin. Her eyes flutter closed and it’s like she’s relearning how to breathe.
He promises to look her up the next time he’s in Fort Collins. She starts to ask why he would ever be there. It dawns on her abruptly, and she flushes, nodding at the ground. He’s coming to visit! Then he’s gone and she’s holding Lillie in her arms, the two of them waving him goodbye.
It’s happening, a voice sing-songs inside her head. This is really happening.
-
Her father drives and Nina plays navigator. Sam is in the back with her, and they do crossword puzzles together between taking turns reading aloud from a battered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, their usual traveling book. It has seen them to California and back, up to Mount Rushmore, and down to the Grand Canyon. Between the two of them, they can recite it by heart.
Her roommate is already there, but she has graciously remained packed. She lounges on one of the beds, leaning against the wall, reading. Her eyes are dark and warm as she watches Delia and her family trail in. Tucking curly blond hair behind her ears, she climbs off the bed.
“Hi, I’m Angie,” she greets, holding out her hand to Delia.
“I’m Delia.”
“Nice to meet you.”
There is an awkward pause as Angie waits, and Delia laughs nervously, realizing her bad manners. She turns to her father. “This is my father, and my stepbrother Sam, and this is –" It is the first time she’s had to introduce Nina to anyone outside of their hometown, and she stumbles over the word stepmom. It sounds odd even inside her head, but Nina gives her a reassuring smile. Twining her arm around the older woman’s waist, Delia introduces her, “This is my mom.”
-
It takes several trips to unload the SUV, but too soon, it’s time for them to leave. Delia gives each of them a hug and kiss goodbye. Even Sam cooperates with her. Her eyes fill with tears and when she gets to Nina, they both start crying. This is it. Her life, on her own. This is her beginning. When she goes home again, she will be different, altered slightly from the Delia Brown who left Everwood.
She mouths another “I love you” as they pull away, her throat achy. When she turns back towards the dorm, Angie is standing near the entrance, looking unsure. Smiling, Delia heads towards her and Angie meets her halfway.
“You okay?” Angie asks.
Delia nods, fingers covering her mouth. She doesn’t want to start crying again.
“I know what you mean. Yesterday, I’m standing there, outside the security gate in JFK, and my mom and my sister are sobbing openly. It was all I could do not to just say forget it. I’ll stay. Then the second I get on the plane, I start crying, because it hits me, you know? This is it. My life is starting.”
Delia stops. “You’re from New York?”
Angie nods, bewildered. “Why?”
Delia slips her arm through hers. “I was born there,” she tells her. As they move through the throng of students and families, they chat about the city Delia still loves. Angie is equally smitten. Later, they drive over to the Lory and splurge on a nice sit down dinner.
Like Delia, Angie is also pre-vet, but plans to get a job in a zoo, hopefully (“Fingers crossed.") the Bronx Zoo where she used to go all the time as a kid. There are few awkward pauses throughout the evening, and they are both surprised when they realize four hours have slipped away. Laughing like old friends, they split the bill and head back to Edwards.
Once again in their room, they mutually decide to put off unpacking until tomorrow. Delia kicks off her beat-up Chucks, yawning, then crawls into her bed, fully clothed. Rolling onto her side, she hugs her pillow to her chest, breathing in home, and tries not to think about the dull throb inside her chest.
“Delia?”
“Yeah?”
“Miss home yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too.”
Some time near dawn, Delia falls asleep to the sound of Angie’s soft snore.
-
Delia and Angie are curled up in their beds, watching Poltergeist. The sound of Independent Women, Part 1 makes them both yelp in surprise. Then Delia starts laughing and tumbles out of bed, running to grab her phone from her desk.
“…Hhhello?” she answers breathlessly.
“Hey.” She can hear him smiling on the other end. “What’s so funny?”
“We’re watching Poltergeist,” she explains.
“Uh-huh.”
Delia climbs back into bed, tucking her comforter under her arms. “Well, we’re at that part where the guy starts peeling his face, and then Independent Women, Part 1 started playing out of nowhere. For a full second there, it was pretty freaky. I mean, for all we know it could have been that girl – you know, the one who played Carol Ann – contacting us.”
“She’s dead, and you think the only thing she has going for her is scaring a couple of girls watching Poltergeist?”
“Hey, you never know,” Delia replies indignantly.
“Hold on, you have that as my ringtone?”
“Honey, you rocked my nine year old world,” Delia purrs teasingly, and he laughs.
“That’s a little creepy.”
“No it’s not. You were clueless of my affections at the time, so it’s sweet. Not creepy. Sweet,” she emphasizes the last part.
“All right. We’ll go with sweet.”
She sits there, listening to his breathing. Minutes are lost simply to being there, on the phone with each other. It’s as close as they can get for the moment.
“Well, I wanted to call you before I went to bed,” he says, yawning loudly.
“I’m glad that you called. I like your voice.”
“I like yours too.”
“So we’ll talk later?”
“Yes.”
“’Night,” she breathes, wishing she was curling up with him in bed.
“’Night, Dill Pickle.” He’s gone before she can gripe about the nickname.
Angie rolls onto her side, facing Delia. “Bright?”
“Yeah,” Delia replies wistfully, tossing her phone to the foot of her bed.
“He’s pretty regular. Emails almost daily. Phone calls every night.” Angie looks envious. “How long have you been dating?”
“We’re not. He’s in Denver, I’m here. He’s ‘laying the groundwork.’”
Puzzled, Angie asks, “What does that mean?”
“It means, we talk, we email, but we’re not exclusive. We haven’t even kissed yet.” Delia sighs in frustration, sinking down below the covers.
“You two have never kissed?”
“We have, but that was years ago.” Delia’s voice is muffled. “What this means is the first time we’re face to face again, I’m going to want to just screw his brains out.” She groans, throwing back the covers. “I want him so badly.”
“He’s certainly got it all figured out.”
Delia stares at the ceiling. “Yep.”
-
“What chapter are you on?”
“Thirteen. This is the fourth time I’ve read it. I assume this is supposed to start making sense eventually. Or is this some elaborate ruse set up by the English Department?”
Angie chokes back a laugh, making sure to keep a weather eye out for the librarian. “With Professor Ringhouse as the mastermind behind it all.”
Delia points at her with her pen. “See, you laugh, but that’s exactly what they want you to do. They’re lulling you into a sense of complacency.”
“Sure,” Angie replies slowly, arching a brow suspiciously. “You haven’t been hiding a predilection for conspiracy theories from me, have you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good, because I get enough of that from my uncle Milty.”
“Really? Is he as bad as Mel Gibson in that movie?”
“He’s not quite there yet. And I stress yet.”
“Wow. We don’t have one of those in Everwood. We have a guy who can hear things when people talk, but no conspiracy theorists.”
Angie sits up, resting her elbows on the table. “Wait a minute, he can hear things? Like what?”
Delia fidgets, bouncing her legs beneath the table. “He can hear snippets of people’s future. Sometimes he’ll predict someone is going to come down with something, or he’ll know something is going to happen to you. Like this one time, he predicted a flood and it flooded in Houston.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“That is so cool.”
-
After midterms, they decide to celebrate. It is cold out, in the low forties, and Delia shivers under her three layers of Angie’s clothes – t-shirt, cardigan sweater, vintage corduroy jacket with a multi-colored scarf wrapped artfully around her neck. She looks like a bohemian, her hair loose around her shoulders. Angie was sick of seeing her in baggy sweatshirts and jeans, and decided to dress her this morning. Delia didn’t mind one way or the other, as long as she was warm. She shoots her roommate a murderous glare.
Thanksgiving break is just around the corner. Bright wrote her this morning about coming to pick her up so they could drive home together. It is out of his way, but he is closer than her family. It seems the logical thing to do, but she is still trying to figure out how to explain it to her father. This means quality alone time in the car with him, so she’s willing to put up with a little bit of suspicion.
Grinning, Delia suddenly doesn’t feel quite so cold. Angie seems relieved and tucks an arm through Delia’s, the two huddling together against the wind. They have some mail to drop off, and they’ve decided to splurge on dinner, a toast to their survival. Just as Angie’s cell starts to sing, Delia catches sight of a familiar pair of shoulders, of soft, golden curls in the brisk wind. He has his back to her, looking around the grounds.
It can’t be, she thinks, but calls out his name just in case. He turns and a grin sweeps across his face. Ecstatic, she breaks into a run and launches herself into his open arms. He stumbles a bit, into the side of his truck, but his hands are warm against her butt as he holds her close. She smacks hurried kisses all over his face, bubbling over with joy. He’s here! He’s here!
He jokes that she seems happy to see him, but half of it is lost inside her mouth. She uses this to her full advantage and slips her tongue between his lips. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it and kisses her back.
Angie clears her throat repeatedly before Delia finally pulls away. Still in his arms, Delia introduces them. Bright, this is Angie. Angie, this is Bright. Her roommate just shakes her head, laughing, and informs her that she has to bail on dinner.
“Sister is in the middle of a crisis,” she says cryptically, and when Bright isn’t looking, she winks at Delia.
-
Delia goes back with him to his hotel. They walk through the lobby and she’s giggly from nerves. There has never been this level of pressure, being with someone she is in love with. He squeezes her hand as they step onto the elevator. The doors close silently, and he pulls her in for another kiss. It manages to calm her.
Their kisses grow more searching as they stumble down the hall. His room is all the way at the end. She moans, impatient to be there already, and he laughs into her mouth. Her hand reaches between their bodies and cups his groin. Groaning, he curves inward, trying to move away, muttering something about too soon, before he’s pushing her against a random door. His tongue skims her teeth, and she sucks on it, fingers tugging at his belt. She is a wild thing, hungry for him.
This is the part she knows by rote: desire, the initial anticipation of joining. To feel the rush of a man slipping inside her body, the unique pressure of penetration stretching her. For a brief moment, it’s enough, and she is happy. Afterward is different, as if she is waking from a great spell. It is not the fairytale she’s been fed from childhood. She isn’t with someone special, someone she loves, but just another boy. It was a long time before she could look herself in the mirror. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she tries to push away the memories.
His hands still hers and she looks up, confused. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Where are you?” he demands, his voice hard. “I mean, shit, do you even see me?”
“Bright,” she pleads, taking both of his hands in hers. “It’s just … scary for me. I haven’t been with anyone in awhile.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I’m terrified of messing it up! God, Bright, I have never made love before. It was never anything close to what’s going to happen with us.”
“Shit, Dill,” he whispers. "I’m sorry." He cups her face. “Why should I be surprised? You’ve always made me crazy. Even before you were supposed to.”
“Well if it helps, I’ve always been hopeless over you,” she whispers.
-
Delia lifts her hips and shimmies a little, and Bright pulls her pants off. She is left with only her underwear; a thong she bought on impulse during her last trip to Target. Flushing with pleasure, she notices his eyes dilate. He mumbles something, his voice thick against her belly.
“Those are –“ He stops, gulping.
She shakes her head and laughs. “It’s only underwear, Bright.”
He is serious. “You’re beautiful.”
Her smile fades as he shifts above her. She pushes him onto his back. He is hers for the night, and she’s going to enjoy every bit of him. She skims a hand down his chest, noting how much darker she is than him (he’s always been fair). His body is still toned, though he’s never been ripped. He wears his muscles as if he earned them the honest way – a good day’s labor. Delia presses closer, breathing him in. He smells good, and she runs her hands up his arms, trailing her fingers along the undersides until she gets to his armpits. The hair there is coarser, a deeper shade of blond. He laughs suddenly, clamping his arms down over her hands.
“Anywhere else,” he pleads.
“It’s going away in the memory bank,” she promises.
He frees her hands. Giving him the once-over, she lets her fingers trail across his chest, down. She traces the rim of his belly button and his abs quiver in response.
She clutches at the waistband of his boxers, eager to get a look at him. She wants to touch him. Brows knotted together in concentration, she eases the garment down, careful not to do any damage in the process. He winces as her fingers grasp him, fondle him. She catches his mouth with hers, moving her hands around to cup his buttocks. Rolling her hips, she moves herself against his erection.
He’ll be a tight fit.
He moans, and she can’t wait any longer. Desperation sinks its teeth into the both of them. He hops up to get the box of condoms, and she lies back on the bed. Enjoys the view as he searches the room completely naked. Too late, they both realize they left them in the truck. Miserably, he sits down on the side of the bed. He reaches for his boxers.
She grabs his hand, stopping him. She wants this so badly. “I’m on the pill,” she admits.
He squints at her, clearly in distress. “Are you sure?”
“God, yes,” she practically whimpers. She pulls her knees to her chest and wriggles out of her panties. She curves her hand around the back of his neck. “Come here.”
He does, pushing at the cleft between her thighs, and she helps him, guiding him inside her body. He moans loudly, and she gnaws on her lower lip. It is uncomfortable, not quite as bad as her first time, but nearly. He goes slow, murmuring comforting words in her ear. She doesn’t respond, trying to lift up a little, alter the angle, anything to ease the discomfort. Ridiculously, the memory of her first gynecology visit flits into her head. Dr. Lewis told her, in her soothing voice, “Just breathe, Delia. Let your knees fall all the way, as far as they’ll go, and relax your hips.” Closing her eyes, she lets her thighs fall slack.
“Oh, God,” Bright grunts, penetrating deeper than before, and she would laugh if it didn’t feel so amazing. She looks down, where they join; his hand is there, between their bodies. He rubs her clit, and she shouts in response, back like a bow. Suddenly, she can feel him everywhere, over her, inside her. He is the beat of her heart, thumping wildly in her chest. He moves his leg ever so slightly, and she cries out again, nails cutting into his sides.
His head falls forward, the sound of his breathing muffled by the pillow. His arms strain with his weight as he rocks his hips. She holds him tight, pushing her face into his chest, half-afraid she’s leaving marks on his back. Her hips ache from the width of him, but she presses her feet into the mattress anyway, meeting every thrust.
Her orgasm tears through her, and from a distance, she hears Bright groan, their bodies matching studies, strung tight.
-
She brushes her teeth while he takes a shower. He likes to hum while he washes, and she smiles at her reflection. This is better than anything she’s ever imagined.
“Hey, Delia?”
“Yeah?” she asks,pullingthe toothbrush out of her mouth.
“Are you seeing anybody here?”
Delia leans over, spitting into the sink. “No, why?” She turns the faucet on low, so she can still hear him.
He pokes his head out of the curtain. “Just making sure.”
She rinses out her mouth with water and gives her lips a quick swipe withthe handtowel. “What about you?” Hopping onto the vanity, she watches him as he dries off.
He looks surprised by the question. “I was,” he admits, “but it was before your graduation. When I got back to Denver, I broke things off.” His eyes sparkle as he steps towards her, naked as jaybird. “I realized it wasn’t what I wanted anymore.”
“Good to hear.”
His hands are persistent, caressing her bare thighs. “You know, checkout isn’t for another two hours,” he reminds her.
“Well, then we better not waste it.”
-
He picks her up just after dawn the day before Thanksgiving. She wears her hair down, a knit cap Angie made for her pulled low over her ears. It is blistery outside, and there’s sure to be snow.
After an hour or so, she decides it’s now or never. It’s been worrying her since Angie brought it up. “Bright?”
“Hmm?”
“We’re going to tell them, right?”
Briefly, he glances at her, brow furrowed. “What?”
“About us.”
“You ready for that?”
Delia feels slightly nauseated at the idea. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”
“Then we’ll tell them.”
Halfway there, they pull over at a rest stop. It is difficult at first, both of them trapped away in jeans, but they manage. After, as they repair their rumpled clothes, Bright catches sight of snow flurries in the sphere of his headlights. He quickly puts the truck into gear and speeds up the entrance ramp onto the highway. She doesn’t even tell him to slow down, fear winding its way through her belly. They’re miles from anywhere and the snow only gets heavier as they get closer to the Rockies.
Finally, she spies a sign advertising a motel nearby. He exits and they find it without any trouble. The vacancy sign flashes. Only two cars sit in the parking lot. Bright parks outside the manager's office and runs inside while she waits in the truck, keeping the heater going.
When they get inside their room, he grabs a couple towels to wipe them free of excess snow. They dump their bags on the extra bed, and call their folks to let them know they’re safe. It is late by the time they hurry across the parking lot towards the 24-hour diner. Both of them are starving. Over dinner, the storm settles down, but visibility is still too iffy, especially going through the mountains.
Delia can’t say she’s upset by the delay. She eats all of her fries and half of his, while they flirt and kiss. She loves hearing him talk about how much he likes his job, how much he loves working with the kids. She rubs his thigh and listens, watching his face light up. It’s amazing, the man he’s grown into.
It is full dark by the time they pay the check and head back to the room. She is drowsy, both from the food and the last few hours on the road. He carries her piggyback most of the way. Half-asleep, she slides down his back, weaving where she stands. He takes off her coat, then her jeans and hiking boots, tucking her socks into them. The room is freezing and she shivers, wearing only her sweatshirt and panties. Delia starts to pull off her sweatshirt, but he warns her she’ll get cold.
"You'll just have to keep me warm," she tells him, tugging it over her head. If she wasn’t so tired, it may have sounded sexy, but she yawns halfway through. Grinning, he strips down to his t-shirt and boxers.
He pulls back the covers and she crawls onto the squeaky mattress. He slides innext to her, tugging her back against him, and presses a kiss on her shoulder. She could get used to this.
-
She takes over the wheel halfway to Everwood, while he takes a nap. A little after after noon, she pulls up in front of her house. There are dark circles under his eyes and they don’t belong wholly to her. He stayed up late the few days prior to break, working out his lesson plans so he wouldn’t have to worry about them when he returned to Denver Sunday night. The hours they spent in the motel, dozing and making love, didn’t help matters though. Regretfully, she reaches over to wake him.
“Bright,” she whispers, gently shaking him. “Bright, wake up.”
He yawns loudly, eyes fluttering open. “We’re here?” he asks around another yawn.
“My house,” Delia replies, pointing behind him.
Scooting into a sitting position, he looks out the passenger window. “There it is,” he says and glances back at her. “Home sweet home.”
Nodding, she stares at it, starting to dread these next few days. There is no question, she has missed her family. Part of her can’t wait to run inside and be their Delia again. But the other part knows she isn’t that girl anymore and it will not be the same. Bright nods, as if to say, “Been there,” and smiles wistfully.
He helps her with her bags, carrying them all the way upstairs to her bedroom. He remarks on the queen-sized bed; he hasn’t been up here since his appendix burst. After he sets her stuff down by the dresser, he sits down, bouncing a little, as if testing the mattress’ resilience. She laughs, tumbling onto him. Pointing at him, she declares him a lecherous old man. He argues back that she seemed quite eager to take advantage of that old man last night. They lay there for several minutes. He stares up at the ceiling, and she lies with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand finds hers and he fiddles with her fingers.
Her room is exactly as it was the day she left. Nina put fresh sheets on the bed, but nothing has been moved. It’s comforting to know this won’t change. Even Ephram’s room has remained intact and he’s been out of the house for years.
“This is weird,” she says.
“What?”
“You in my room, my bed.”
Bright makes a noise then, like a grunt. Delia looks up, and he puts a finger to his lips. Grinning mischievously, he unzips the fly of her jeans. His fingers are cold against her belly and she lets out a gasp. He pauses, but she gives her ascent. Chewing her lower lip, she waits in anticipation, eyes locked with his.
It is chaos downstairs. Sam and his friends are loud. They're playing a video game in the living room. Her father is in town, at the office, finishing up paperwork. And Nina is out shopping, picking up last minute items for the holiday menu. She falls back, hardly able to draw air, as his thumb rubs against her clit, then down, and into her. One finger, then two, and she clamps her thighs closed, rolling her hips with him. All the while, she can’t look away from his face, the way he watches her. As if he’s trying to memorize her, every flicker of emotion. It mixes with what he’s doing to her body, and she’s almost there. God. Almost. Nodding, he pulls her face into his chest and she sets her teeth around a mouthful of his sweatshirt, moaning. Her entire body shakes, and his other hand drifts down, inside her jeans, cupping her ass.
Tears sting the backs of her eyes. She blinks them away, coming back to herself. Her cries weren’t completely muffled, but it’s enough, she hopes, with Sam preoccupied. A flush creeps up her neck as he pulls his hand free, the sound as his fingers leave her body. He licks his lips, then his fingers, one at a time, and she turns a deep shade of crimson. She wants to rip his clothes off and take him right there.
As she helps him push his jeans and boxers down, they hear Nina come in downstairs, hear her talking to Sam. Delia listens, heart a jarring throb inside her chest, as Sam informs her that Delia’s home. Panicked, Bright jerks his pants up over his butt. She tries to stop her hands from shaking long enough to close her jeans. On their way out, she smoothes out the comforter. He finger-combs her hair as they hurry down the hallway towards the staircase. They hadn’t even closed the door. Anyone could have caught them, just walking by.
When she glances at Bright, she notices how pale he is. This is not the way they want to announce their relationship.
No one is the wiser. Nina only comments about the dark circles under her eyes, clucking like a mother hen. Delia can’t help but smile. It is the only fuss made, before hugs and kisses are dispensed with and she falls back into Delia Brown, daughter.
Bright heads to his parents, and she helps Nina put away the groceries.
-
Delia sneaks out to meet him by the garage. The Abbott's are hosting Thanksgiving dinner at theirhousethis year. Glancing around, memories of that night fill her head.Not all of it was bad. She's still holding out for her happy ending.
Bright comes up behind her, arms slipping around her shoulders. She reaches up to squeeze his hand. "You ready for this?” she asks softly.
“As ready as I’m ever going to be,” he replies and she smiles.
