Valentine's Day

Part Two

Part 2

 

I'm shuffled into Kota's car, like normal. He, Nathan, and Gabriel insisted that I sit shotgun, even though I have the shortest legs and protested. Mr Blackbourne and Dr Green left a little ahead of us to get to the school earlier, and Victor drives Silas, North, and Luke. Gabriel talks almost the whole way--he's over the moon that I was able to do my hair myself, and that I left it down (just for him, he says), and that my eyes are "too fucking beautiful" with makeup and I need to watch what I do today. Kota chimes in at that, "With great power comes great responsibility," to which the boys laugh and I feel a little lost. I smile regardless. Their happiness is my happiness.

At school, we manage to find the very last two parking spots, and have to hustle inside to make it to class in time. We part ways and barely make it to class. Class isn't the same today, though. There's a a tangible feeling of... something, in the air. It's like Valentine's Day is making people hyper-aware, especially of the opposite sex. As soon as I settle into my desk, as if by magic three notes appear when I straighten up from retrieving a notebook and pen. Luke immediately scoops them up and hands them behind me to North, who's already waiting with an outstretched arm. They both are clearly unhappy with the situation.

The notes don't stop pouring in however, and I make it through English and geometry with a whopping sixteen of them. North is practically seething as he walks me to Mr Blackbourne's classroom. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into his large frame. He's glaring at anyone who comes remotely near me, and I can't help but feel so warm and fond of him. I know I'm safe with him.

Outside Mr Blackbourne's door, North pulls me even closer to him, aligning his front to mine, leaning down, his forehead pressed to mine, "Sang Baby, promise me you won't read any of the notes you're given today."

It takes me a second to properly process what he's said to me, I'm a little distracted by his close proximity, "Okay," I breathe out, "I never do."

The classroom door opens just as the bell rings, and I hear Mr Blackbourne's perfectly controlled voice as I pull away from North, "You're both late. Is there a problem?"

North says nothing, just digs in his backpack for a second, then hands Mr Blackbourne a stack of folded papers. Are those all my notes? It seems like many more than sixteen.

Mr Blackbourne's perfect eyebrow raises, and North snorts, "They're the worst yet. "V"-Day to them doesn't stand for good ol' St. Valentine, that's for damn sure."

Mr Blackbourne's gaze moves from North to me, and I'm trapped in it. North continues, "That's not all. They're following her through the halls, whistling, calling out to her. I don't like it. It's a volatile situation."

People were doing all that? How did the guys completely shield me from it? Was I really so oblivious to the world? Or was I just so wrapped up in my boys? My face must be doing that annoying thing where it shows my emotions, because North reaches down to squeeze my hand reassuringly.

"Nothing good can come of the extra attention, and you all don't need any added distraction," Mr Blackbourne nods, as if agreeing with something he just thought up, still locking me in his gaze, "Yes, take Miss Sorenson away from school. It's Friday, and hopefully a long weekend will help the male populace cool down."

North nods and moves to pull me away but I stop him, instead, before I lose my nerve, reaching out to squeeze Mr Blackbourne's hand affectionately, "Thank you, Mr Blackbourne. Happy Valentine's Day."

I'm rewarded with a dazzling smile that I swear has the megawatt power to light an entire electric grid. I just stand there, stunned, until North's hand is back in mine and he's tugging me away, "C'mon Sang Baby. Time to play hooky."

We're in Victor's car before I know it, and North is turning to me, grabbing the back of my head with one hand while the other is pulling up my hand, placing two of my fingers on my lips. I smile underneath my hand, and he takes that as encouragement before his lips descend. He kisses my fingers for a good long while, and I'm feeling amazing, elated, wanting more, and am just about ready to pull my hand--the only barrier between our mouths--away when he pulls back, breathing unsteady and fast.

"I've been needing to do that all day," North takes a deep, steadying breath, "Okay, what do you want to do?"

I'm trying to get my own breathing under control, unable to help feeling disappointed that he ended the moment before the "kiss" became an actual kiss. Then I make a decision--I'm ready for the fingers to be gone. I'm finally comfortable being touched, and am ready for more.