A/N: This is another flashback from EPOV. It’s sort of a continuation of their first kiss beside the garage.
“Don’t do it, man,” Tray warned him as he leaned against the tree overlooking the library. The cold October air blew and he instantly regretted wearing only a black wifebeater under his leather jacket. He glanced at his diver’s watch before he tucked his hands back in his pockets. It was almost noon and she was bound to walk out of the library to head to the cafeteria to meet Pam any second.
He shot Tray a silencing glare. ‘Try and stop me, shithead.’
Tray shook his head moved in front of him, blocking his view. “She’s Alcide’s girl. We don’t date our friend’s girl. It’s like a code.”
“She’s not Alcide’s. They’ve broken up months ago. And as for your stupid code, it doesn’t apply to me,” he snarled as he shoved Tray to the side.
He thought he had made great progress with his ‘Get-Sookie-Stackhouse’ scheme when he kissed her beside his garage more than a month ago. But when he stopped by her house the following day, she was nowhere to be found. It was Dawn who told him that they had left for Louisiana earlier that day. Something about a dead relative. Sookie’s mother left a set of spare keys to Dawn’s aunt before they left.
He tried to reach her through her cell but all his calls were diverted to voicemail.
For two weeks he waited for her to return. He would drive by her house twice every day, before he went to school and again after supper. On the fourteenth night the lights came back on to the Stackhouse residence.
It was her mother, Michelle, who greeted him when he rang the doorbell that evening. She told him Sookie and Pam caught a bug while they were in Louisiana for their grandmother’s funeral. That was why it took them longer to come home.
And that had been two weeks ago. Sookie returned to school with Pam after a three-week hiatus and now the Stackhouse siblings were cramming to catch up. Which meant Sookie didn’t have time for anything else, namely Eric Northman.
But Eric was persistent. He managed to silence the prodding of his dick to get back together with Isabel. Not even Dawn’s tempting cleavage could convince him otherwise as she cornered him one time when he was parked outside the Stackhouses during one of his late-night cruises.
Eric exhaled and a stream of frosty air puffed out of his parted lips. He checked his watch and let out a grunt. She was taking longer than he anticipated. As he was pinching the bridge of his nose, he saw her, hugging four thick hardbound books, bounding out of the library steps. Tray tried to stop him with a hand on his arm but he easily shrugged it off and dashed to cross the road. He reached her just before she could make a right turn to the sidewalk leading to the canteen and she almost jumped when he materialized in front of her.
“Need help with that?” he asked, already reaching for her books.
She let out a cloud of cool air when she gasped. Her cheeks were flushed from the chill and it looked so delicious against her almost fading tan.
She gulped before she shook her head and tightened her hold on the books. “It’s alright. But thank you.” She lowered her gaze to the ground, sidestepping him.
His brows furrowed as he pivoted to keep up with her. “Are you avoiding me?” Fuck, when did he turn into a girl?
She chuckled. “Of course not!”
Her response was too quick and too high-pitched to be true.
His lips thinned and his eyes became icy. “Yeah, got it.” He did get the message: She thought he was a mistake.
He turned away from her to dart back to the other side of the road. Suddenly the sidewalk was too narrow for both of them.
“Eric,” she called out softly, tentatively.
It was loud enough to stop him from leaving.
“Do you like movies?”
It took all his restraints to keep himself from grinning. Schooling his face to remain blank, he cocked his brow.
She cleared her throat. “There’s a Sandra Bullock film showing at the AMC.”
His lips tugged at the corner. “Are you asking me out?” God, he was easy.
“It’s not a date. Just two friends watching a movie.”
Yeah, right. Because that’s what every guy wants to do on a Friday night. Watch a stupid chick flick.
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up at seven for our non-date then”
She smiled and he swore her eyes fucking sparkled. She ran toward the cafeteria and he went back to where Tray was.
Later he asked Tray and Calvin what Sandra Bullock movie was showing at the AMC. “Miss Congeniality,” answered Tray with a snort.
Sonofabitch, he thought wildly, what did I get myself into?
He was ten minutes early and it was Pam who let him in. With a hand on her hip, she gave him a once over. He flashed his signature lopsided grin as he swaggered inside the house. She looked impressed with his carefully picked attire of black v-neck long sleeves, gray curduroy blazer and black jeans.
“Hmm… not bad. If I’m not gay I’d be all over you,” she complimented him as she ushered him into the living room.
“Oh, stop. You’re making me blush,” was his flirty comeback.
She rolled her eyes before she marched upstairs to call her sister.
Michelle Stackhouse, an attractive woman in her early forties with the same medium length blonde hair and warm blue eyes as Sookie’s, offered him a glass of lemonade when she strolled out of the kitchen in a red-checkered apron. She asked if he wanted to grab dinner first but he politely declined. The smell of the pot roast from the kitchen was very inviting but he was craving for something else that night. Something inedible but definitely more delectable.
He asked if he could use the toilet and Michelle gave him the green light to go upstairs. There were two bathrooms in the second floor, one led to the master’s suite while the other was connected to Sookie and Pam’s shared corner bedroom. He picked the one closest to Sookie, of course.
“You know you’re hopeless, right?” he heard Pam as soon as he entered the bathroom and locked the door.
“This isn’t a date, Pammie,” was Sookie’s exasperated response.
“Then why are you wearing a dress in a two-degree weather?” Pam quipped. “If that’s not an invitation to be groped, I don’t know what is.”
Groping? That he could do without any persuasion. He pressed his cheek against the birch louvered door, while he gripped the round golden knob.
“I know what I’m doing,” Sookie replied. His grasp tightened around the knob, which was warming up against his fingers. Why can’t Pam just shut the hell up?
“Do you really? Keep in mind, Sook, Eric Northman’s a national treasure. Like a library book you can’t afford. You can only borrow it. Then you read it. You enjoy it — hell, you can even fantasize about it. Then you return it, so someone else can have fun with it. You don’t hold on to it longer than its due date or you’ll pay the fine.”
He didn’t know what to make of Pam’s analogy of him. Should he be flattered or insulted?
When he didn’t hear any retort from Sookie, he decided he’d had enough eavesdropping for the night.
He slipped out of the bathroom silently and went downstairs with light steps. He put on his mask of ennui when Sookie emerged in a simple navy blue long sleeve dress, black tights and knee-high boots. There was nothing grope-able about that outfit and he wondered if she had changed because of what Pam said.
Sookie wanted a non-date, then that was exactly what she would get.
Eric kept her within comfortable distance where he spent 90 minutes pretending to watch Sandra Bullock play an undercover agent who was infiltrating a beauty pageant. He even laughed on cue and casually wiped the tears off the corners of his eyes, which earned him an amused glance from Sookie. The tears were real, though. He was tearing up from the sheer torture. He wanted to stab his leg with his keys to keep himself from dozing off from the film’s oh-so-predictable climax.
It wasn’t all bad, though. He reveled at how many times she gave him sidelong glances only to look away when he caught her.
There was also that one time when he almost lost control. Midway into the movie, she suddenly leaned in to him, her nose millimeters from his earlobe as she whispered some trivia about Michael Caine. His hand slipped and dropped the bucket of popcorn on his lap. She giggled and as she helped him brush off stray popcorn that were wedged in the space between his pants. Snatching her wrist he begged her to stop. Thankfully, she took the hint and turned her attention back to the movie.
They waited until after the credits finished rolling. She wasn’t one for crowds, she explained, but he thought it was just an excuse. She turned to him when the theater was almost empty, armed with a sweet, apologetic smile. “You hated it,” she stated meekly.
He shook his head in dismissal as he peeled himself from the red upholstered chair. She took a few seconds to follow him to the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her baffled expression. Mission accomplished, he congratulated himself.
If he wanted to make Sookie believe he wasn’t a disposable manwhore then he needed to control his baser needs.
He brought her back home before midnight which earned him brownie points from her mother. He left her that night with only a courteous nod. Even when she leaned forward and tipped her head up, he didn’t give in. He went back to his car and drove off without glancing back at her, leaving Sookie with the look that he sometimes get when he was nursing a pair of blue balls.
He was certain his efforts would pay off in the long run. He would make Sookie Stackhouse want to buy the library book.
They had been on countless non-dates that they had managed to watch every single hideous rom-com at the theaters. Eric kept the charade while Sookie pretended to be blissfully oblivious to his pained craving.
It was a Friday and he knew her mother, who owned a small accessories boutique in Westlake Center downtown, would be working late because of the Christmas sale. They had another non-date set for the evening but nothing definite was planned.
She surprised him when she suggested to watch a DVD her mother got for her in their house.
He hesitated for a brief moment. It was easy to contain his urges when they were in a public place. Granted the movie houses were always dark and ideal for his wickedness but the thought of other people seeing Sookie kiss him was unacceptable. He was irrationally selfish when it came to her. Moments like those should only be for him, not for an audience.
Her eyebrows drew together as she waited for his response. He grinned as he bobbed his head. He asked if he could bring anything for her or Pam. (In case her irritatingly, highly-opinionated sister would be there.) She answered with a shake of her head and a lazy smile at the side of her lips.
“Pam will be sleeping over at Miriam’s,” she yelled as her pace quickened.
Oh, shit, Eric thought. Maybe it would be best to wear his tightest pants tonight, for all intents and purposes.
It was another irredeemable film starring Drew Barrymore. Never Been Kissed was the title he caught when she showed him the plastic casing. He didn’t need Drew Barrymore to tell him how it felt to have never been kissed. He squeezed himself at the corner of the lush chocolate brown sofa while Sookie crossed her legs as she scooched beside him. She was wearing one of her black oversized Simpson’s shirts. It was the brainiac Lisa that time with a quote bubble above her head that said: Ooh! A political discussion at our table. I feel like a Kennedy!
“Kennedy, huh?” he asked pouting his lips to point at her shirt. It brought back some delightful memories when JFK helped him score his first kiss with her.
She didn’t look down at her shirt as she grabbed a handful of microwave popcorn and raised it to her lips to cover her coy smile. “I’m a big fan of JFK,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes straight on the TV.
Eric shifted his weight and crossed his legs. His chastity belt was fucking useless.
Halfway through the movie, she reached for the remote and hit the pause button before she slid off the couch to get a can of Coke. She tossed him a cold one, before she slumped next to him, much closer this time. She pulled her feet up and brought her knees to her chin. Without warning she bent toward him, resting her cheek to his shoulder.
Eric was losing focus. He could no longer understand what Drew was babbling about because all he could think of was how Sookie’s hair smelled of green apple. With a jerk of her foot against the sofa, she pushed herself upward so she could reach the crook of his neck while she unwittingly bit the tip of her bendy straw.
Seriously? She wanted to snuggle? Her heady scent was already clouding his judgment and he knew one slight nudge would get him undone. He imagined himself being backed into a corner and he could no longer be cunning or sly. It wasn’t helping his cause.
Sliding gently he tried to wiggle his shoulder. He balled his hand into a fist and lifted it to cover his mouth as he coughed. “Um… What time will your mom be home?” he asked nonchalantly.
She tilted her head up and turned to him. “The mall’s having a midnight sale so she won’t be home in a few hours. Why?” She eyed him suspiciously, picking him apart.
He swiveled his upper body to take a peek at the narrow corridor that separated the living room from the dining area. “Can I use your bathroom?” The hardness in his pants badly needed reprieve.
She squinted her eyes as she skated away from him while putting her soda can on the center table in front of the sofa. “What’s your game, Eric?” she asked, crossing her arms against her chest.
His eyebrows shot up to his forehead feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, give it a rest,” she shoved verbally. “We’ve been going out for almost two months now and you haven’t tried to kiss me once. Not after that one time three months ago. And frankly I’m insulted.”
His lips gaped as he tried to come up with an excuse but he was too shocked to be snide.
She raised a finger to silence him. “If you’re not attracted to me then what the hell are we doing? You’re obviously not gay. Even without Pam’s gay-dar I can tell you like girls. So what’s the deal? Is it me? Am I not pretty enough? Is it the way I kiss? Too sloppy? Too wet? Too much tongue?” Her nose scrunched as she glowered. “Or is it the way I dress? Do I have to dress like Dawn or Isabel? Y’know, show some flesh?”
She was being hyperverbal. Her mouth ran a million miles a minute.
“What do I have to do to make you want me?”
“Nothing!” he snapped, springing off the couch. “That’s the problem, Sookie. I already want you. So much. So fucking much that it’s driving me insane.”
She swallowed heavily as she craned her neck to meet his gaze.
“I want everything about you. Why do you think I suffer those chick flicks you dragged me to watch?”
“Well, I’m sorry,” she drawled mockingly, raising her hands over her head. “I thought you liked watching cute girls.”
“I do like watching cute girls. One cute girl in particular,” he concurred. “I like watching her eat popcorn with her mouth open. I also like it when she takes forever to drink her soda because she always bites the straw. I even find it refreshing that she always picks regular Coke because Diet Coke lacks punch.”
Her eyes darted to the red can across her that was leaving a ring of moisture on top of the plexiglass table with four cylindrical black metal braces. The white bendy straw had been flattened from all the nibbling she had done earlier.
“It really doesn’t taste like the real one,” she mumbled in agreement, dropping her gaze to her lap.
He flashed a toothy grin before he returned to the couch and lifted her chin with his finger. “I know. And I like that about you.” He tipped lower as he stared deeply into her eyes. “I don’t want to be a library book, Sookie. I want you to want to buy me.”
Her lips parted slightly, stunned at the revelation. Eric didn’t let her say anything else before he latched on to her mouth. His breath hitched at the sensation of her soft lips clashing furiously with his. She was clinging on to him and the urgency of her action was making him relentless.
He pushed her to lie down on the couch without breaking contact with her lips. He felt her palms slide inside his shirt as they graze the ripples of his stomach. He might not have Alcide’s rock hard abs but he had enough muscles for a six-pack.
He hovered over her as their kiss tapered. She whimpered when he began leaving a trail of moist kisses along her jawline all the way down to her neck. He fought the urge to suck on the flesh behind her ear. He wanted to leave a mark but he didn’t want her to get in trouble with her mother. He reached under her shirt and unhooked her bra with his deft fingers. She arched her back as if to encourage him. Silly girl, did she really think he would need any persuasion at this point.
He cupped her breasts with both palms and she moaned when he flicked her nipples. Fuck that moan, he groaned, he would come before he could get out of his pants.
As if she could read his thoughts she lowered her hands and began fumbling for the button of his jeans. With a gentle flick she unbuttoned it and the next thing he heard was the distinctive swoosh of his zip going down. She was undressing him like a pro and he bit back the nagging feeling that she had had enough practice with Alcide.
Pulling up her shirt to her shoulder, he latched on one of her peaks while one hand kept tracing circles around the other. Those moves earned him a sharp gasp of his name and he decided it was time to up the ante. His free hand slithered down, thumbing the waistband of her pajama bottom. She bit her lower lip in anticipation when he pushed her cotton boy shorts to the side.
He sucked in a breath when his finger grazed the moist flesh between her thighs. Fuck me, he screamed internally. Sookie might have the same notion when she grabbed the front of his shirt and clamped her legs against his thighs and rolled him to the side. With a hard tug, she pulled herself up and straddled him as he looked up at her. Even in an oversized, childish shirt she managed to take blow him away.
Damn it all to hell.
Eric stretched his neck so he could gaze at her closely. He hissed when she started rolling her hips on top of him, grinding her fully clothed mound against the straining bulge in his pants. He breathed through his mouth, reveling at the sensation. The friction was too much and —
The muscles around his calves tensed and tightened as warm sticky liquid seeped through his tight pants. He froze and so did she. He pinched his eyes shut before he bit his tongue. It was every man’s nightmare. Second only to erectile dysfunction. He came in his fucking pants. Like a hopeless nerd. Like a hopeless virgin geek.
“Shit, sorry,” he grumbled in his croaky voice.
He grabbed her hips and lifted her off him.
“Eric…” she hushed, cheeks flushed. He wondered if his face was red as hers. Probably ruddier.
“I-I need to go,” he stuttered. That’s it, asshole, keep the nerdy vibe going with your mumbling.
“You don’t have to,” she said somewhat hurriedly. It sounded like a plea and damn if it wasn’t working.
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. “I have to.” He kissed her forehead and bolted out of the sofa, stopping only to grab his leather jacket from the hook on the wall beside the door, and he was gone.
With long strides he left her house. He cast a sideway glance to her house to check if she were following him. Mercifully, she decided to leave him alone. He slowed down when he was two houses away from hers. Pausing at the side of the road, he slumped on the cemented pavement and buried his face in his palms as he tried to rub the shame off his face. Cringing from the sticky mess clinging to side of his thighs, he watched over her house until he saw her mother’s minivan pulling into the driveway two hours later.
This would be a funny anecdote he could tell their kids when they give them the sex talk.
The snow started falling and it was bitingly cold outside. Or so he assumed, because he hadn’t been outside for three days. Not after the unfortunate incident when he humiliated himself in front of her or more precisely, under her.
He faked illness when his father asked him if would be going to school that Monday morning. Godric, an investment analyst for J.P. Morgan, had been particularly busy for the holidays and the Monday before Christmas was the start of his hell week. He frowned and shot his son a look that said ‘Do I look dumb to you?’
When Eric remained sullen, with no effort to move out of bed, Godric shrugged offhandedly and left his son with a simple, “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
Too late for that, Eric thought in dismay.
The distinct humming of the vacuum machine downstairs roused him from his nap. Their housekeeper, Yolly, must have let herself in and was doing her usual chores. He would like to make himself lunch but he didn’t want to run into her so he kept himself busy with his computer.
It was a little after four in the afternoon when he heard a soft rapping against his door. It must be Tray or Calvin, dropping by to know why he didn’t show up for school. Those guys needed to get a life, badly.
Hopping off the bed, he peeled the door open. The caustic remark he was about to hurl was lodged in his throat when he saw who his visitor was.
“Hi.” Sookie gave him a short wave. “I brought your homework.”
He glanced at the two maroon Mercer Island High textbooks she held against her chest. He stepped aside to give her a wide berth. Following suit, he couldn’t seem to pry his eyes off her as he closed the door behind him.
She was wearing dark skinny jeans, light gray long sleeves under her dark gray parka and yellow scarf. Her hair was in messy braid and her cheeks were tinged pink that he wondered if she ran on her way to his house.
He brushed past her and propped himself on the knee-high bookshelf beside his king size bed, while she remained a few feet from the door.
“So…” she hummed slowly, “this is the bat cave.” Her eyes made a quick scan of the interior and he was glad he wasn’t a slob she was probably assuming him to be.
“Why’re you here?” he cut to the chase.
“You didn’t go to school today,” she replied as though that explained everything.
“You’re not from my class. We’re not even the same year. And those aren’t my books.” As if he knew what his books looked like.
“Calvin said you were sick.” She dashed in front of him and touched his forehead with the back of her cool hand. “You’re as cold as a vampire,” was her medical opinion.
“So what if I’m not?” He kept his impassive façade.
“You’re avoiding me.” It was a statement.
“I am.” It was pointless to lie anyway. “So won’t you be a darling and let me avoid you in peace?”
“If it’s about the — what happened the other night,” she paused to take a breath. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sure it happens to everyone.”
His neck tightened. “I bet it never happened with Alcide.”
She blinked and took half a step back. “Yeah, it never happened with him.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Wow. If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a fantastic job.”
“It never happened with Alcide because we never got that far,” she countered softly.
That rocked him out of his dismal state.
“Never?” he asked, eyeing her closely. “But isn’t he your first boyfriend?”
“Yep.” She bobbed her head while evading his gaze.
“So it means you’re still a…”
“And you want me to be your…”
She thrust her chin up and met his piercing stare. “Eric,” she sighed in exasperation, “I stalked you in your room, I guess it’s pretty obvious what I want.”
His mouth went dry. “Why?” Why are you still talking, dickhead?
“Because I decided that I want to buy the book. I don’t want anyone else borrowing it anymore.”
He stood to his full height, a lazy smirk forming at the side of his lips. “My, my, Miss Stackhouse, aren’t you greedy?”
“I am,” she breathed out, slanting her head up. “So unless you’re going to cowboy up and finish what you started, I’ll have to ask you to turn around so I can walk out of here with a shred of dignity.”
His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “You’re not going anywhere.”