a bit more
Well… option one is out. :) And he’s so very sweet. He’s treated me better than any other so far, and it’s only been two days.
He gave me roses (with the sweetest, most corny message ever) and a tennis bracelet, and we spent the day together being shmaltzy and adorable.
I was right, however. It’s a little awkward at first, transitioning in different areas from “friends” to “more.” And yet it feels much the same as usual. We already know how to talk, fight, deal with other people…
Mostly I’m happy. But still a little nervous, and afraid.
too much
He was away this week.
He sent me a message in a bottle. A message in a bottle. So stinkin’ cute.
My best friend is over the moon about this. I think she might be more excited than I am. My roommates have been pushing for this since they met him (even when I insisted that there was nothing there and could never be).
He’s planning something big for tomorrow… and I find that I’m nearly paralyzed with fear.
My last relationship started out so well that I thought it was forever. He fit everything I thought I ever wanted, only to see that no, he was quite possibly the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. He manipulated me and left me empty and broken.
I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and pieced my life back together quite well… I thought I was doing great. I was fierce, ready to move on.
Only now I discover that I’m so very afraid. He means so much to me; what if I destroy him? He’s too Good to manipulate me, so what if I start pulling out all my old tricks and habits? What if… what if?
I’ve come to three conclusions.
1) We won’t date. We’ll pretend that nothing more was ever possible. We’ll stay happy and friendly and awesome together.
2) We’ll date. It’ll be great, slightly awkward at first as we transition from old friends to new couple, but great. Then we’ll hit a snag (on what, I have no idea), fight horribly, then have a monumental break-up that shatters our friendship and forces everyone we know to pick sides.
3) We’ll date. It’llbe great, slightly awkward at first as we transition from old friends to new couple, but great. Then we’ll keep dating, realize that we click so well that we never want to be with anyone else ever, and date for the rest of our lives.*
There are only these three options. I’m afraid to find out which it will be.
*means “get married.” because we really would be that cute couple in love forever.
What do you think?
Grand passion, in my experience, has always led to heartbreak and a Very Bad breakup.
But what about warm fuzzies? Will those turn into a slow burn to last a lifetime?
Will the (warm, gentle) solid pressure of his hand at my back remain, (as opposed to the sly entwining of his arm about my waist, which melted away as soon as opposition arose)?
We’ve known one another for more than a decade, and he’s still here. Even interested. Am I a fool to ignore such a thing, simply because I do not feel swept off my feet?
Is this the first fully mature, adult relationship I might have?
…and the Pirate, ch.8
A/N: I fixed it! This is the bright-shiny-and-new chapter.
This chapter gives a little explanation, and perhaps a bit more insight into the Captain, but hopefully not too much. 
Chapter 8:
(flashback to a few days ago) (I warned you guys that the timing is a little shifty) :p
-+-
The Captain left the camp in a foul mood. The natives were clearly keeping something from him, and he’d felt so certain that he was missing something right before his eyes. There had been a moment when he felt a tingle of awareness, an electric frisson of recognition running through his body, as if his very blood knew something he did not. He’d looked about for a clue, but had been unable to see anything out of the ordinary, and his mood darkened even further.
He stormed about the jungle for a while, then had a revelation. The mermaids! It had been explained to him they were half within this world, half… elsewhere. He’d avoided them for as long as he’d been on the island, and their people operated under a shaky truce. In truth, he was uncertain and cautious around what he did not understand.
He found his way to their lagoon, wary of their seductive intensity as soon as he saw the wildly feminine forms frolicking in the pool below. He’d heard the stories his men liked to relay, and while he outwardly scoffed, he knew that they were a force to be reckoned with.
The mermaids spotted him immediately, and surfaced, watching him quietly. The leader reached up and beckoned him closer, granting him an audience. She said nothing, but he instinctively knew that he should shed his outward apparel, and bit back internal sneering at the heavy symbolism implied by his actions. He left his hat, sword, and coat behind, approaching them as a man instead of a Captain.
He bent down on one knee in a posture of respect but not submission. The girls swam closer, visibly pleased with his more approachable appearance. The leader reached out to him with a slow smile, but he drew back, keeping out of range. “You know why I’m here,” he said firmly. “What is happening to me? Why her?”
She shrugged, the casual move looking seductive and alien at once. “We will only say that you are connected at the deepest level. However, your confusion is due to her stubborn nature. She is largely unaware of the bond, and can only feel it when she’s particularly susceptible to this place.”
He sighed. He had wondered; now he knew the truth. “But… why? Why are the two of us linked in such a fashion?” He refused to admit that for the first time in a very long while, he was afraid. He did not know what this meant, and to be so deeply joined to another living person did not bode well for his black-hearted reputation. He had barely been able to resist her when she’d been a young girl, but now that she was full grown, and he could feel her, he knew that he was helpless to withstand her. What if his enemies discovered this supernatural union? He pushed the icy trickle of fear away, and focused once more on the swimming sirens before him.
They had been watching him calmly, and he wondered if they were able to hear his thoughts as if he’d voiced them aloud. The leader blinked slowly, then finally responded to his question. “As to why, only those responsible for bringing her here can shed light. We do not bother with motivation. We only know what was, is, and will be.”
He shifted alertly, his mind quickly calculating multiple possibilities and scenarios. “There are others involved? Who brought her here?”
She shrugged again. “That is for you to discover.”
He clenched his jaw, but maintained his temper. They were dangerous enough when mildly irritated; he had no desire to rouse their anger.
He began to stand, sensing that they had told him all they were willing to share, when the leader suddenly grabbed his wrist. He looked down at her, startled. Was she actually going to try to pull him down with her? She gave a flirtatious smile, and purred, “If you weren’t so clearly marked by her, I would try. But we only have one further directive: tomorrow, before sunset, you will stand watch beside the Black Castle.”
He gazed at her evenly. “And you will not tell me why?”
She laughed, the sound both lilting and terrible to his ears, and dove below the water with her sisters.
-+-
The Captain paced impatiently beside his post. The Black Castle at sunset, she’d said. Here he was, and nothing. He’d dragged three of his men along with him, with no explanation, and was not willing to return empty-handed. They knew better than to question his orders outright, but he did not want them to begin whispering about his odd habits.
There. He felt her before he heard the crashing of her sprint through the forest. Pure, icy terror had gripped her, and she was reaching out blindly for him, without realizing it. He reached out for her, in turn, with the calm assurance that she was not going to die now, if only for the reason that he forbade it.
He readied himself for the inevitable confrontation, even as he ran towards them. He hadn’t seen the creature since… he refused to touch on the events of that day, and pushed the memories far once more.
Bursting into the clearing, he saw her standing with a stout branch, ready to defend herself, looking so fierce and yet helpless that he nearly laughed. Even as he arrived, it rushed her, and she fell to the ground, and he nearly stopped breathing. Flying into action, the Captain drew his sword and slashed at the creature to get its attention. It growled, finally scenting him for the first time, and eagerly turned towards him. He noted distantly that she scrambled back, out of harm’s way, and re-focused on the croc.
The creature growled again, and rushed him. He slashed, darting around its razor-sharp teeth, and sliced it deep with his sword. It let out a bellow of rage, and he took advantage of its distraction to cut at it again. He could not kill it with his sword, but he could certainly make it think twice about devouring her. Not surprisingly, it chose to retreat to the water, grumbling all the way.
Breathing heavily, he finally turned to look at the girl. She had collapsed against the wall, staring at him, most likely still struggling with the fear and adrenaline coursing through her, so he took a moment to evaluate her as well.
He was surprised at how much she’d grown. How long had it been since she had last been here? She was much taller, and had filled out into a woman’s form. Of course, he couldn’t really tell, given that she was clothed in… a tunic and breeches? She’d clearly been staying with the natives; he realized at once that she had been in the crowd that day, and he’d felt her proximity and his body had reacted.
She was still staring at him, pale and worn, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. Well, he supposed, perhaps she was. How could she have known that he had survived? She closed her eyes suddenly, and he wondered if she was about to faint. She managed to remain upright, however, and opened them to focus on him once again.
He shook himself and sheathed his sword. She appeared to be in the early stages of shock; he needed to keep her alert and awake. He chose to needle her subtly; now was not the time for forcing her to reveal how she’d appeared in his life once more.
An image of her, looking fierce and yet fragile, surfaced unbidden, and he forced himself to keep from laughing. “Well, Red-Handed Jill, I wondered how long you would managed to avoid me.” He saw her fallen bag, and bent to pick it up and carry it to her. “I see the natives were helping you after all.”
Looking a little worried at his tone, she slowly sank to the ground. She said something about the chief helping her for her brother’s sake, and proceeded to look vaguely distracted. When she raised a hand to her head and wiped at the blood, seeming confused at its appearance, he walked towards her swiftly. Had she been injured more severely than he had assumed?
He crouched beside her, eyes quickly taking in her bruises and scrapes. She needed to be distracted from her leg; it was bleeding profusely and he knew that she would be in considerable pain once the adrenaline wore off.
He wondered if she realized that in the stress, her “shields” were completely down, and he could sense what she was feeling. When a surge of contentment came over her, followed by embarrassment, he abruptly noticed that he’d been stroking her face absentmindedly with his thumb. He’d been trying to comfort her, but he was surprised to realize that the gesture had been calming to him as well.
More than a little startled at his own demeanor, he rose, masking his confusion with the same curt-yet-gentlemanly persona he’d donned so many years ago, and demanded that she accompany him to the ship. He wasnot worried about her, he simply would feel more comfortable once Smee had taken a look at her leg. And if he was taking advantage of their connection to subtly distract and soothe her, it was only because he did not see the point of being around a hysterical woman any longer than necessary. He was only taking precautionary steps to maintain his own sanity.
When she tucked her hand into his arm, he tried to ignore the feeling of rightness that having her by his side produced, and proceeded towards the dock where his men awaited. If she leaned on him a little heavily, and he slowed his steps to match her limp, neither spoke of it.
-+-
A/N: So. What do you think? :)
(I know, I took the easy way out with the “omniscient third party explains all,” but they didn’t really explain anything, they just verbalized the undertones which you have all, I’m sure, picked up on. 
Note to self
Pros:
He always makes you smile.
Whenever he’s in town, you glow in anticipation.
He’s seen you at your best and worst, and loves you just the same.
He understands your family.
Having watched him go through a crash-and-burn of his own, you’ve seen his break-up side.
He’s always treated you better than your best boyfriend ever did. (which, might I add? so very sad.)
He values the small things in life.
He likes to spoil you.
You have the same taste in… many things.
He’s the type who would read a book, just because you want to talk about it with him.
Lets you take his jacket, gets an odd look in his eye when he sees you wearing it.
Has known you for… ever.
Rubs your feet when they get cramped.
Great with kids.
Thinks you’re hopeless. which, roughly translated into his language, means adorable.
You’re never nervous or awkward around him. Never have been, hopefully never will be.
Cons:
Easy-going. Sometimes too easy-going. How does he fight? How does he argue?
Republican. What will the kids be like? :p
More emotionally available than any guy you’ve been with; has you running scared and worried that you don’t have to claw it out of him.
Not the most intellectual of sorts. (BFD.)
Has the most obnoxious best friend, which reflects badly on him.
His mom. Both good and bad. (sure, she loves you, but she could easily morph into the mother-in-law from hell.)
Umm… no spark. When you think of Grand Passion and The Everlasting Love, he is not the first thing that comes to mind.
You’re afraid.
You’re afraid that it’s not enough.
That you’ll be giving in to what’s safe instead of holding out for soul-shaking love.
It is comfortable with him. He’s like wrapping yourself in a huge blanket when it’s cold and raining outside and you put on your favorite movie and lie on the couch together and drink hot soup. He is comfort. But not the heart-stopping excitement, the butterflies-in-the-stomach, sends-sparks-to-my-fingertips kind of infatuation. When he calls, you get warm fuzzies, but no leaping lizards. A slow smile of contentment, but no light-up-your-face radiance.
A cautionary tale
I regret:
…letting go of the one who cared enough to try to understand me, who would massage my feet after a long day, who took me to the beach for our break-up scene so that we’d have a suitable backdrop for the emotional turmoil and pain we were experiencing.
…falling heedlessly into a series of relationships (to use the term loosely) with men who cared little for my mind and even less for my soul, and losing a piece of me each time.
…allowing someone to seduce me easily, with beautiful words and poignant memories, who effortlessly twisted me into his personal plaything at his beck and call, leaving behind a broken shell after he lost interest.
…letting fear control me and allowing the opinion of others to weigh more than my own.
…choosing to follow another’s advice instead of my own intuition.
…remaining silent.
<.>
Dear reader,
Don’t make the same mistakes.
