Fan Fiction ❯ Falling For You ❯ The Way to a Man's Heart... ( Chapter 22 )

Falling For You

Chapter 22

The Way to a Man's Heart…

 

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

It started out with a kiss,
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss…

 

-- The Killers “Mr. Brightside”

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

 

 

“Breanna? Why aren't you eating, dear?”

 

Looking up from her barely eaten plate of turkey and stuffing, the girl in question shrugged and gave her father a half-hearted smile. “I guess I'm just not that hungry.”

 

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Mr. Denton returned her smile and went back to the conversation he had been previously engaged in with his wife and mother-in-law. Breanna, on the other hand, completely gave up the pretense of eating and set down her fork with a heavy sigh.

 

`I miss him.'

 

`You just saw him less than twenty four hours ago, Breanna.'

 

`Yes, but today is Thanksgiving and all I can think about is him sitting in that big, cold house all alone. I wish he would've just agreed to spend the day with me like I asked him to so I wouldn't have to sit here and worry about him…'

 

`Maybe it was for the best. You two have been acting awfully awkward around each other lately.'

 

It was true. Ever since that night three days ago when they had fought and he'd dropped her off at her house, Breanna had found herself unable to act normally around him. He would look at her, and she would find herself blushing like a timid, young schoolgirl embarrassed by the attentions of the boy she has a crush on.

 

Breanna didn't know for sure if Devon had noticed a change in her, but she was sure he'd noticed the lack of physical intimacy they'd shared in the past several days. He hadn't asked her about it, but she could see the questions in his eyes.

 

`Oh, and to top it off, that strange request from Brent before he left for his grandma's is totally stressing me out. I wonder what it is he wants to talk to me about when he gets back.'

 

`Who knows? Don't let it drive you crazy; you've got enough on your plate as it is. What you should do is talk to Devon about that little tiff you two had. Ignoring your problems won't make them go away.'

 

`You're right. I should.'

 

`What? Are you serious? You're actually agreeing with a logical suggestion? Do you feel okay? Do you need to lie down?'

 

`Shush. I'm fine. I just think it's about time he and I hash it out, don't you?'

 

`Well, yeah, but--'

 

`Good. I'm glad you think so. Now, how do I get out of here without pissing mom and dad off?'

 

`Wait. You want to go right now?! You can't skip out on Thanksgiving dinner!'

 

`Don't worry, we'll still get our dinner. I have a plan.'

 

`Oh God…'

 

 

oOoOoOoOoOo

 

 

 

`Mmmm… Greasy, lukewarm delivery pizza… You're right, this is so much better than the home cooked turkey dinner we could've had at Breanna's house. Oh, and they forgot the bread sticks. Way to go, slick.'

 

Scowling, Devon took a bite of the slice of pizza in his hand and slumped down onto a stool at his kitchen island. `Eating dinner with Breanna and her family would've been disastrous, and you know it. Besides, I'm not really into the whole `cozy family gathering' thing.'

 

`She wanted you to come, ya know… I think she was upset when you turned her down to sit at home. By yourself.'

 

A small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, Devon took another bite of his pizza and thought about that for a moment. He wasn't sure whether he should be pleased that Breanna had wanted him to spend the holiday with her, or worried about how comfortable their little arrangement was beginning to feel.

 

He was troubled to find himself looking forward to the times when he knew he would see her and sometimes even seeking her out between classes and after she got off work. The level of intimacy they'd reached went beyond sex and had recently been bordering dangerously on the cusp of something resembling an actual relationship; a fact that disturbed, and at the same time, confused him. That confusion was the main reason why he'd declined her invitation for dinner with her family.

 

`And the other reasons? What else spurred this decision to sit at home and wallow in self pity?'

 

`I am not wallowing. I just wanted to be alone… Is that a crime?'

 

`No… but considering what a tactless bastard you were about the whole Zoey fiasco, spending the day with her was really the least you could do, don't you think?'

 

Chewing thoughtfully, Devon shook his head with a frown. `Tactless? I wasn't… How was I tactless?'

 

`Are you kidding? You really don't know?'

 

`No… Am I supposed to? Wait. Is that why she's been acting so strange around me lately?'

 

`Uh, yeah, Mr. Oblivious. Why did you think she's barely let you touch her in the last three days? What? You two have a fight, and then BOOM; you automatically forget all about it?'

 

Devon lowered his eyes sheepishly and shook his head. `Honestly? I thought she was just PMSing or something…'

 

`Oh, for the love of... Your stupidity has rendered me utterly speechless. Congratulations.'

 

With a deep sigh, Devon dropped his forehead onto the cool Formica counter and wondered to himself if it was possible to be completely clueless and not even know it. Picking up his head as the sound of the doorbell chiming broke through his thoughts, he slid out of the stool and strode leisurely to the front door.

 

“Unless the person on the other side of that door is the pizza guy with my breadsticks, I am not home,” he grumbled softly as peered through the peephole.

 

“Breanna?” Devon murmured as he unlocked and opened the door to reveal a very nervous looking girl holding what looked to be a large bag of groceries in her arms.

 

Blurting out the first thing that popped into his mind, he said, “What are you doing here?”

 

Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, Breanna shrugged and gave him a tense little smile. “To see you,” she answered simply.

 

“Why?” Cringing as soon as the words left his mouth, he mentally slapped himself at the stricken way her eyes dropped to the bag cradled in her arms.

 

`Smooth, genius. Have you ever heard of a little thing called thinking before you speak? You might want to try it sometime rather than permanently lodging that foot of yours in your mouth…'

 

Muttering something unintelligible that sounded vaguely like sorry, Breanna backed away from him—almost dropping the bag in her arms in her haste to get away as quickly as possible.

 

Reaching out to steady her, Devon sighed and shook his head. “I'm sorry, don't go, okay? I didn't mean to be an ass. It just seems to come naturally to me, as you very well know.”

 

“Are you sure? `Cause I can go, I don't--”

 

“No, really, it's fine. You just surprised me, that's all. What happened to dinner with your family?”

 

Breanna flushed a little and ducked her head. “Oh… um… Well, do you think we could possibly talk about this inside? This turkey is really freaking heavy.”

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to… Turkey? Why do you have a turkey?” Devon tried to see into her bag, but Breanna giggled and brushed past him into the house before he could see the contents.

 

Strolling through the rooms of Devon's home with the ease of someone who'd been there many times before, Breanna entered his spacious kitchen and began to unload the items in her grocery sack while Devon looked on curiously.

 

“Breanna? What's with all the food?” he asked warily as he picked up a can of green beans and tossed it from hand to hand.

 

Catching the can in mid air and giving him a menacing look, Breanna replaced the green beans with the rest of the groceries and made a wide sweeping motion with her hand. “This,” she said with a grin, “is our Thanksgiving dinner.”

 

Glancing between her and the food spread out on the counter, Devon scratched his head and laughed nervously. “Oh. Really? But, uh… Breanna?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“None of this stuff looks pre-cooked.”

 

Breanna snickered and punched his shoulder playfully. “That's because it isn't, silly! We're going to cook it! Doesn't that sound like fun?”

 

Fairly sure she wouldn't appreciate an answer of, “What?! Are you insane?! Fun?!” Devon simply nodded and forced a smile to his lips. “Fun… yes, of course,” he murmured as he watched her rummage through his cupboards for pots and pans. “Breanna?”

 

“Mmm-hmm?” she answered distractedly while examining the back of a packet of powdered gravy.

 

“I think you may have looked over one very tiny, very minor detail.”

 

“Really?” Looking around the kitchen with a concerned expression wrinkling her brow, Breanna frowned and asked, “What?”

 

“Neither of us knows how to cook.”

 

Tossing the packet back onto the counter, Breanna shrugged nonchalantly and pulled out a thick recipe book from the bag she'd brought with her. “Not a problem,” she announced triumphantly. “This book guarantees the transformation from a normal, run of the mill, novice cook into a gourmet chef with just the turn of a page.”

 

Taking the book from her and briefly glancing at the cover, Devon cocked his head to the side and gave her a suspicious look. “Have you been buying shit off the Home Shopping Network again?”

 

“What? No! My dad made me swear never to watch that channel again after I ordered an entire set of Vietnamese encyclopedias last month,” she said as she shuffled her feet and picked at her cuticles with a sheepish grin. “Even after I explained to him that I was just trying to be more culturally diverse, he still made me send them back and threatened to take my credit card away. Isn't that totally unfair?”

 

“Breanna, you don't know how to speak Vietnamese.”

 

“No…” she answered slowly as if talking to a very stupid child, “but I bet I could've learned with those encyclopedias!”

 

Rubbing his temples and shaking his head, Devon chuckled and handed the book back to her. “Now, how do I argue with that logic, you poor, mistreated, misunderstood soul?”

 

“You can't,” Breanna insisted with a teasing grin, “because I know all, Devon, dear. Which is why I'm sure cooking Thanksgiving dinner for ourselves will be a piece of proverbial cake—with the aid of my miracle book, of course.”

 

“Uh-huh… Then I guess we better get started, huh? What do we do first?”

 

Faltering for a second, Breanna pressed a finger to her lip thoughtfully and stared at him with a blank expression marring her previously confident features. “Uh…”

 

“Why don't you consult your `miracle' book?” Devon suggested smugly.

 

“Oh! Yes, that's a great idea, the book…” Flipping to the first page, Breanna read silently to herself for a moment and then looked up at him with a sly grin. "Okay, before we start doing anything else, it says here that you're supposed to tie your hair back if needed and put on an apron to protect your clothing."

 

Giving Devon a deceptively innocent look and reaching up to finger a strand of his hair, she said, “Well, obviously your hair isn't an issue considering it's not very long, but… Do you even own an apron?”

 

Shaking his head and looking a bit nervous at the strange way Breanna was staring at him, he took a step back and said, “No, but I don't--”

 

“Oh, no! You don't?” Breanna exclaimed with mock surprise, “No worries! I bought one for you while I was at the store today!”

 

Reaching into her seemingly bottomless bag of goodies, she pulled out a pink bundle and tossed it to Devon with a giggle. “There ya go. Isn't it just absolutely precious?”

 

“Breanna…”

 

“Yes, Devon?” she answered sweetly.

 

“This is not an apron.”

 

“What? Of course it is!”

 

“No… No it's not. This,” he growled, “is a piece of sparkly lace with strings.”

 

“It's not all lace and sparkles… See, look! It has a pocket!”

 

“Yes… and the pocket has a baby chick on it! I am not wearing this!”

 

“Oh, c'mon! Please? It's so cute!”

 

“Cute? Maybe for a five year old! No. Absolutely not.”

 

“Please?”

 

“No.”

 

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

 

“No.”

 

“It's not like anyone's gonna see you! It's just me!”

 

“No.”

 

Sticking out her lower lip, Breanna sidled up to the stubborn man in front of her and trailed a lazy hand up and down his lower abdomen. “Please? I promise to make it up to you…” she coaxed in a low, sexy drawl.

 

Feeling his resolve crumble with every stroke of her hand, Devon sighed and tilted her chin up with his finger. “That pout you're sporting is a cheap shot, Breanna. You do know that, right?” he murmured as he smoothed his thumb over her lower lip and used his other hand to pull her closer.

 

Sliding her hand from his belly to his shoulder, Breanna leaned in and sucked the tip of his thumb into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around it for a few sultry seconds and enjoying the way his breath grew ragged and heavy at her teasing, Breanna gave the digit one last lick and then released it with an audible, almost obscene, pop.

 

“Put it on,” she whispered huskily, more affected by his touch and proximity than she'd like to admit.

 

“You're evil,” he muttered as he gently extracted himself from her grasp and slipped the apron on over his head.

 

“Uh-huh… `Sure am… Hey, Devon?”

 

“What do you want now, wench?” he grumbled as he busied himself with the adjusting and securing of the ridiculous looking apron around his waist.

 

“Do me a favor and pick up that whisk over there for a second.”

 

Without giving her a request a second thought, Devon picked up the utensil and went to hand it to her when he was momentarily blinded by a bright flash of light.

 

“Say cheese!” Breanna giggled as she snapped off another picture.

 

Never one to admit when he had been outsmarted, Devon decided to play along. Holding up the whisk and flashing the camera a toothy grin, he gave Breanna a wink as she laughed and went to work taking picture after picture of his silly pose.

 

Only stopping once she'd finally ran out of film, Breanna stuck the camera back into her bag and took a moment to congratulate herself on finally pulling one on the undefeatable, debonair Devon Pierce.

 

“That wasn't very nice, Breanna,” he scolded as he watched her go about organizing her groceries like nothing had happened.

 

“Oh, but it would have been a shame not to preserve the memory, don't you think? I know I for one never, ever want to forget this moment—hence, forever capturing it on film,” Breanna told him earnestly, proud of the fact that she managed to get it all out without cracking a smile.

 

“Laugh it up, Bre, laugh it up… I'll get you back sooner or later,” he promised as he moved in beside her and helped open a can of cranberries she was struggling with.

 

“Ya know, you're not very intimidating in that pink, frilly apron. In fact, I kind of have the urge to braid your hair...”

 

Slapping her hand away with a laugh, Devon bumped her with his hip to make a little more room for himself and went back to opening cans in companionable silence.

 

`Now would be the perfect time to apologize for being such a fuckhead, Devon.'

 

`Oh God… Do I have to?'

 

`Don't you think she deserves it? She didn't have to come here today, asshole; she could've stayed home with her family. But no, instead she probably came up with some bullshit reason about why she needed to leave and came here to be with your sorry ass instead.'

 

Glancing over at the girl beside him as she read carefully from the book open in front of her, Devon smiled faintly and asked, “Breanna?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“You never did tell me how you got out of dinner with your parents.”

 

Blushing slightly and twirling a dark strand of hair around her pointer finger, she shrugged and said, “I told them that I was volunteering at a soup kitchen this afternoon, and after that I was going to help mentally challenged children learn to read.”

 

“And they believed you?” he asked her incredulously.

 

Breanna nodded and went back to her book as Devon continued to stare at her in shock. `Why would she do that?'

 

`You mean other than the fact that she's crazy? I suppose because she wanted to be here with you.'

 

`But… why?'

 

`I don't know, why don't you ask her?'

 

“Breanna?”

 

“Yes, Devon?” she laughed as she marked her spot with her finger and looked up at him again.

 

“Why did you come here today?”

 

Breanna averted her eyes as she struggled to think of an answer that wouldn't give her true feelings away and at the same time ease the loneliness and insecurity she saw pooling in his eyes.

 

`I can't tell him the truth, can I?'

 

`You could tell him a milder version of the truth.'

 

“I came, Devon,” she began a bit hesitantly, “to be with you.”

 

`Ha! Told you…'

 

“Oh,” he responded lamely, “okay.”

 

`Have I mentioned how smooth you are lately?'

 

`Shut up.'

 

`Not until you apologize.'

 

`But--'

 

`Do it, Devon.'

 

`I don't--'

 

`This is the song that never ends / Yes it goes on and on my friends…'

 

`Why are you singing that? You know I hate that song.'

 

`Some people starting singing it not knowing what it was / And they'll continue singing it forever just because / This is the song that never ends…'

 

`Quit it!'

 

`Not until you apologize, dammit! I swear to God I'll keep singing until you go so completely crazy you'll actually consider ripping off your own arm just so you'll have something to beat yourself to death with.'

 

`Wow… that was graphic.'

 

`Apologize!'

 

“I'm sorry, Bre,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

Confused, Breanna completely gave up trying to focus on the recipe she was reading and turned to him questioningly. “What in the world are you talking about?”

 

“All that shit with Zoey… I didn't handle it well, and I'm sorry for that.”

 

“You're… sorry?” she repeated, not quite believing what she'd heard him say.

 

Dropping his eyes to the counter he muttered, “Yes… I'm sorry. Is that really so hard to believe?”

 

“Well… yes, actually,” Breanna chuckled as Devon looked back up at her and narrowed his eyes.

 

“Why?”

 

“Honestly?”

 

“Yes…”

 

Breanna tilted her head to the side and gave him an indecipherable look. “Because I didn't know you cared,” she told him softly.

 

In that moment, as he gazed down at a girl who was never supposed to be anything but a distraction, Devon was met with a very alarming realization. He did care how she felt— about how he treated her. And most importantly…

 

He cared about her.

 

“Uh… oh. Okay,” he stuttered and immediately went back to what he'd been doing before Breanna had single handedly managed to tear down the walls he'd been hiding behind since his father died.

 

Watching as he pointedly ignored her, Breanna gave him a bemused smile and went back to her book.

 

`Don't you want to know what he's thinking?'

 

`Of course, but I know asking him will only provoke an instinctive need to protect himself. Nothing will be accomplished by pushing him into something he's not ready for.'

 

There was a moment of silence and then, `When did you become so wise?'

 

Breanna chuckled to herself. `Not wise… More like satisfied, I guess. He may not want to acknowledge it, but I think he cares about me more than he'd like to admit.'

 

`Ya think?'

 

Glancing over at him and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Breanna nodded slightly and thought to herself, `Yes… yes I do.'

 

 

oOoOoOoOoOo

 

 

“These mashed potatoes are lumpy.”

 

“They're supposed to be lumpy, Devon. Shut up and eat them.”

 

“But… I don't like lumps in my mashed potatoes.”

 

“Yeah, well, I'd prefer not to eat dry, flakey turkey but someone,” Breanna stared pointedly across the table at her whiny counterpart, “doesn't know how to set the timer on the stove.”

 

“Your miracle book didn't say anything about setting any timers,” Devon grumbled as he poked at his potatoes.

 

“Did you ever consider that maybe the writer of my miracle book assumed his readers would have a little common sense?” Breanna muttered, trying to conceal an amused smile by biting into a roll.

 

“Bah…” Devon grunted through a mouthful of soggy stuffing, “Common sense is highly overrated…”

 

“Yeah… you would say that,” Breanna snickered.

 

Both fell into a comfortable silence as they continued eating their less than fantastic Thanksgiving dinner and contemplated the events of the evening. Neither were sure if anything had actually been resolved, but for the moment, decided not to dwell on it. There would be plenty of time to sort out their confused feelings in the future.

 

Right now… it was just the two of them.

 

And they were okay with that.

 

 

 

 

 

*~~~~A/N~~~~*

 

This chapter is monstrous in case you didn't notice, so I hope I am now henceforth forgiven for my long ass absence. You will all be happy to know that I am now rested and refreshed from my little `vacation', which means chapters from now on will be out in their normal, timely fashion.

 

Thanks so, so much to all of you (especially those who left such kind, supportive notes) for being patient with me. I don't know what my problem was, but the crisis has passed so everything's okey dokey, peachy keen now.

 

A little note about reviewer responses… I've decided to cut them down dramatically for the simple reason that (1) I've discovered that many find them more irritating than enjoyable and (2) They make getting chapters out take ten times longer. BUT, please feel free to contact me anytime with questions, comments, and/or just to say hi! My e-mail address and a link to my LiveJournal account is located in my author's profile.

 

Also located in my author profile are links to `pictures' of the characters from FFY! I hope you enjoy them, and most of all hope you liked the chapter. Thanks for reading, and please let me know how I'm doing, okay?

 

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

My Story Recommendation:

 

Unbridled Aria by quirkyslayer: Two orphan brothers are taken in by their rich cousins, only to become involved in a dangerous and risqué romance with their beautiful daughter. And as each brother falls for her further, dark secrets arise weakening their strong bond.

 

I know I've recommended this one before, but it really isn't getting enough recognition (which makes me very sad) and it so, so deserves it. Check it out and leave a review! I swear you won't be sorry!

 

 

 

*~~Media Miner Reviewers~~*

 

Amaria::firemoonhalk

 

 

*~~Fiction Press Reviewers~~*

 

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