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Just Another Friday Night
Reply to Michelle K. or visit her websitePosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list November 7, 2004
Title: Just Another Friday Night (1/1)
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Archive: List archives. Anyone else ask.
Spoilers: Up to 'Behind the Music'
Summary: And Liz is at her door.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Notes: Written in Maria's POV. Third in the "Revelations" trilogy. Archivist's note: The first story in this series is The Answer Book.
I haven't seen Liz since what happened last week. Well, I've *seen* her - at a distance, avoiding my eyes. I've been calling out of work, citing an illness, then a 'busyness' with school. At some point, I might blame the cycles of the moon.
Yeah. I can't do this forever...
You know what? Maybe I can. I don't need to hang out with her and the Czechoslovakians anymore. I can just graduate, leave town, make a new life with new people. Leave her behind.
Except I don't think I can do that. Not just because it's lonely sitting at home on a Friday night while your mom's out on a date, but because, well... she's Liz. She was my best friend for years before I thought about kissing her. I'd like to shrug that off, but I can't.
I'd like to say I won't need to, but I'm not able to run into Liz's radius and demand to be returned into good standing in her thoughts, and certainly I can't force her to want to kiss me.
I have no advantage in this situation.
I sigh, turn on the television. So many channels, all of them the same: pointless and empty. Not that I don't love brainless entertainment - it just helps to have little on your mind while viewing it. Idiocy is so depressing when one is... well, depressed.
I hear a knock on the door. An *urgent* knock, and suddenly my mind starts working overtime - somebody's in trouble, somebody's going to die...
But when I open the door, it's Liz, sans panicked look. "Hi."
Not the greeting of someone in dire need of assistance. "Hi. What are you doing here?"
"I needed to talk to you, Maria," she answers. She waits for a moment. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," I say, although my sullen tone is probably giving her a clue to the fact that I'm not too delighted at this. What more is there to say, really? I step to the side, allowing her entry. I close the door, turn to look at her. "What do you need to talk about?"
She stares at me, her eyes wide. "What do you think?" she spits out.
Damn it. Hasn't this been hard enough without her acting like I'm Satan?
"What do *I* think? *I* think *you* have no reason to be angry here."
"What? You ran out on me. You've been avoiding me. I think I should get to be a little mad."
"*I've* been avoiding *you*?"
I think I'm getting tired just from the stressing of pronouns.
What do you want? I need levity now that my best friend openly hates me.
"You're too busy to come into work. You turn away whenever I'm walking towards you. You're driving me crazy, Maria." Her voice is growing louder with each syllable. "You never gave me a chance to deal with this, to talk to you. You just say something that changes everything--"
"How does it change anything? I want you. I can't have you. It's been like that for weeks."
"No, Maria. It changes everything." Her voice cracks, and she looks away from me.
"Liz," I say softly. She turns her face back to mine, raw emotions written on her features, and I do all I can think of: I kiss her. Her lips are unresponsive, so I pull away as quickly as I'd swooped in. "Damn it. Damn it, Liz, I'm sorry."
I turn away, bury my face in my hands. Why do I have to screw everything up? Why couldn't I have just been happy with finishing this blowout with Liz, a blowout that could've resulted in some friendly understanding and reconciliation? Why did I have to make her angrier?
"Please don't turn away from me again." Her hand's on my shoulder, so I turn towards her. She stares at me silently before saying, "I thought about what you said for a long time, okay? It went by so fast, and I felt like I was losing my best friend... which I guess I kinda did for awhile. But I... I don't want that to happen." Then, next thing I know, she's pulling me towards her.
She's kissing me.
Needless to say, I'm kissing her back.
Then, I start to think. More than 'oh-my-God-this-is-really-happening,' at least. I start to think: What if this is all she can think to do to pacify me?
"Stop," I mutter, pulling away.
"I thought you wanted this," she says, voice breaking. "Jesus, what *do* you want?"
"I do... want this. I just don't want you to kiss me out of pity."
"I'm not a pity kisser," she says, and I almost laugh. She pauses for a moment. "I wouldn't have come here tonight if I didn't want this," she declares.
I feel a heat rise between my thighs, more immediate than any reaction I'd had from thinking about Liz. Because she's *right* *here* and she's serious. And, in another moment, I'm kissing her again. She sucks on my bottom lip before trailing her lips down to my neck. She places a couple of light kisses there before moving up and pressing her lips against mine.
"So," I say, "you're not mad at me?"
A tiny laugh. "No. Not now."
The trek to my bedroom is a haze. I start to think, 'Hey, maybe we shouldn't rush into the sex,' but I don't say it. The whole kissing thing is sorta hampering the use of my voice.
"I love you, too," Liz says. "I love you. I'm in love with you."
She kisses me again, and I'm starting to have problems with the whole breathing thing. Perhaps because on top of the kissing thing, Liz is definitely using her sincere voice. Which is actually just her voice, but the fact that there is no chance of her lying about this just...
Well, it'd make idiotic TV highly enjoyable, in the hypothetical situation that I'd want the set on now.
She pulls away for a moment, lips swollen.
"We shouldn't have sex," I say.
She stares at me, her smile wide. "Okay. That's one way to reply."
I shake my head. "I... I was meaning to say that. I just ended up saying it now because my mouth was free. Also, it allowed me to seem completely insane, which is always nice."
"Ah, Maria. I already knew you were insane."
I'm not sure if she didn't hear me or doesn't care, but Liz's hands slide under my shirt. I lift up my arms.
Apparently, I wasn't listening either.
She takes off my shirt and unhooks my bra quickly. She stares at my breasts, then looks away shyly.
"I'm sorry, this shouldn't embarrass me."
"It's okay. Really. We're moving too fast, aren't we?"
"I... I don't know."
She looks back at me and tentatively brings her hands to my breasts.
"We shouldn't have sex," I say again. "You... I... We have to get used to this."
"So we should stop here?"
"But we can keep doing this, right?"
"I was hoping for that, yes."
She smiles into the kiss as she slowly moves her fingers over my flesh, kneading me. Though she's treating me a lot less like dough than that word implies. She pulls away from me for a moment to shed her own shirt and, then, she's embracing me, our skin pressing together. A shiver runs through me that makes me wish that I hadn't vetoed sex, but there will be time for that later.
We make-out for longer than I've kissed anybody, and it certainly is the longest I've ever felt up a girl. Granted, the last part is really a default situation, but I'm sure it would be true if I were the lesbianic heartbreaker of Roswell. Because I really don't want to stop touching her. The thing that ends up stopping me is nature: I fall asleep. Thankfully, it's after the marathon is over and not during the tonsil hockey because that? Would be embarrassing.
As I'm drifting off to sleep, I say, "I'm glad you're here."
She curls up closer to me, and that's all the answer I really need.
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