"Sorry I made you wait."
I shrugged, looking up at Seth, who was looming over me in a thick, warm-looking black coat. It had gotten fairly dark by now, and I hadn't seen him approach.
"I suppose it's fair. I've done it to you."
"But you weren't trying to make up for your fuck-ups at the time." He smiled a little ruefully and offered me his hand. I took it, pulling myself into a standing position. Seth looked at me for a few seconds with regret on his face.
"Your voice sounds awful," he told me, biting his lip. "That's my fault, too. I'm so sorry Jenna." He took out his keys and proceeded to unlock the back door by which I had sat waiting. It was dry under the overhang, but even so I was freezing and even a little stiff after fourty minutes of waiting. It helped when Seth put an arm around me to warm me.
It was warmer inside the school building, but I still couldn't keep from shivering. Seth grabbed my hand and pulled me along the dark, deserted hallway, past the locker rooms and deeper into the building. Where the hell was he taking me?
"I figured something nostalgic might work in my favor," he explained over his shoulder as we crossed the commons and entered yet another hallway that was only illuminated by the emergency lighting. I almost laughed out loud when he stopped in front of the artroom and took out his keys again.
"Nice."
"Isn't it?" He smiled, inviting me to enter the room ahead of him, which I did. I groped for the light switch, but he caught my wrists and shook his head.
"The windows," he explained as he crossed the room and started to pull down the blinds. "If someone sees light in here, they're going to assume a break-in."
"Which this technically is," I pointed out.
"Nah, we're just making use of their facilities." Seth had closed the last of the blinds, leaving us in pitch-black darkness. A second later, I heard the clicking sound of a lighter, and then could see him light something with the flame.
"Damn. You brought candles?"
He looked up at me. "I thought we had agreed that I fucked up."
"I'm still impressed." I walked over to the table by which he was now standing, placing candles on the chairs. When I came close to him, he slipped one arm around my waist before carefully setting down the last candle.
"So do you forgive me then?" Seth wanted to know. I sighed and looked up at him.
"Yes, I forgive you," I said simply, and he bent to kiss me. His lips landed on mine, soft and demanding at once, and before I knew it he was pressing me against the table, both arms around me. When I suddenly felt something hard, edgy and cold press against me, I yelped and broke the kiss.
"Holy crap, what the hell is that?"
He stepped back, startled, but then grinned and reached into one of the front pockets of his coat.
"I almost forgot about this. Here."
He pressed something cold into my hands, and I couldn't help staring at it for a number of seconds.
"Chocolate Chip Mint ice cream. You were actually serious?"
"Isn't this how girls handle all of their problems?" He shrugged and gave me a half-smile. "I figured it couldn't hurt." He was finally getting around to taking off his coat, throwing it carelessly onto the next table.
"It's fine," I assured him. "Did you want to talk about your feelings next thing?"
I could hear his laugh as he pulled his sweater over his head. "Not really," he told me, approaching again and reaching for the zipper of my raincoat. "At least not while you're still dressed."
This was the first time I'd been with him that I would have preferred not to take my clothes off. There were still issues between us that I wanted to address, and I wasn't going to be able to do it while we were making out. I raised my hands and stopped his by grasping them, but not before my coat had come off.
He looked at me, with dawning realization.
"You're still mad." It was a statement, not a question.
"Not mad," I corrected him. "Maybe a little annoyed with you."
He let his hands sink to his sides and leaned back against the table. "Oh."
"I really am impressed with what you did," I said, gesturing towards the candles and the ice cream. "But I honestly wanted some time just to talk to you."
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere. He leaned forward again and softly stroked my hair with one hand. "You're making it kind of hard is all, Jenna."
I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised his hands, indicating he hadn't meant offense.
"I'm not saying it's your fault, it's just, when I see you... ." He touched my hair again, gently twirling it with his fingers, and suddenly I wanted to be closer to him. "Your hair is so silky, and you look at me with that sweet, soft look in your eyes, and all I want to do is to kiss you. And I -" He stopped himself, looking towards the floor.
"And you what?" I asked, closing the distance between our bodies. He immediately slipped one hand around my waist, grasping a fistful of my hair with the other and directing my mouth towards his for a kiss. His lips were soft, yet demanding, and I moaned softly into his mouth when his hold on my hair tightened.
"God, Jenna," he whispered into my ear after breaking the kiss, "you make me so hard."
I was sold. Screw talking, we could do that later. I pressed myself against him, feeling for myself what he had just announced. His hands were wandering, from my hair down my back, cupping my ass and then burying themselves in my hair again. His mouth found mine once more and he kissed me intensely, his tongue teasing mine. His body was warm and solid against me.
"I'm going to get you sick," I whispered in between kisses, but he ignored the warning.
"So I'll get sick," he whispered back. "I can play ball with a cold."
I laughed at that and ran my hands through his hair, teasing. "You're not going to brush this off as easily if it actually happens."
"Maybe not," he said in between small kisses on my throat that made me squirm for more, "but it's worth it."
"You're too good at sweet-talking," I sighed, letting his hands undress me. He actually took his time about it, running his fingers over the skin of my back as he lifted my sweater. His lips placed small kisses on my jawline and then stopped as he pulled the sweater over my head. It landed somewhere in the vicinity of the next table; apparently Seth wasn't worried about accuracy, only about avoiding the candles when flinging my clothes away. When he turned, I could see a large, dark bruise on his shoulder blade.
