A/N: I started this a while ago and just now finished this chapter. Tell me if it works. I hope so. The first chapter of my Grace/Luke fic should be up soon. I might wait until I finish the second chapter as well. The point is I'm working. Alexandri.
"Jane?" Adam asked as his hand brushed across her arm.
"What?" she asked back, jumping from the contact.
He frowned at her, his expression a mixture of misgiving and astonishment.
Why shouldn't he look at her like that? He hadn't snuck up on her or anything. They were sitting on his couch watching television. It's not like he should expect her to spazz out whenever he touched her. Except for the fact that she'd been doing just that for the last three days.
"Are you okay?"
Good question. Joan was pretty sure the answer was no, but she nodded anyway. Things had been getting progressively worse since the semester started. It was all because of that damn Human Sexuality class she was taking for her major. Ever since that class started, her natural awareness of Adam had increased exponentially. She was super-sensitive to everything: his nearness, his touch, his smell. It was making her crazy. The merest thought of him was likely to spin off into some vivid fantasy of him carrying her up to his bedroom to make mad, passionate love. Five years of waiting had finally gotten to her.
Adam didn't appear to share her current affliction. If it weren't for the fact that she knew better—after all, Adam was still a guy—she'd think he wasn't interested at all. Once they'd discussed the issue of sex and she'd said she wanted to wait, he'd agreed and had gone out of his way to guarantee that they did. They had developed an elaborate set of rules to avoid "intimate situations" like never staying in the car or a bedroom together too long or being around each other in skimpy clothing. They'd learned that lesson over Spring Break their freshman year. A couple of enamored teenagers with wildly raging hormones should not spend a week looking at each other in bathing suits.
Now it was Spring Break again, junior edition, and they'd decided to stay in town instead of going someplace warm or home. And for the past three days, at Adam's insistence, Joan had stayed at his apartment. He didn't like the idea of her staying in her apartment by herself for a week. She'd told him she was a big girl and could look after herself to which he'd replied, "Bad things happen, even to big girls."
Joan bit back a heavy sigh. How was she supposed to get through the next five days without hurting his feelings or jumping him on the sofa?
"Did I do something?" Adam asked quietly. "Are you mad at me for some reason?"
Closing her eyes, Joan berated herself for making him feel like he'd done something wrong. "It's not you," she confessed. "It's me."
"A classic break-up line isn't reassuring, Jane."
She thought about how best to explain her dilemma, but found herself staring at the commercials flickering across the television. It was so much easier just to tune out the entire mess, let the ads seduce her into thinking about nail polish and cereal and cars she didn't care about. But that wasn't fair to Adam. He deserved an answer, no matter how embarrassing it was for her. With uneasy resolve, Joan turned off the TV and faced her boyfriend.
He wasn't looking at her. That helped. "It really isn't you, Adam. It's just I've been thinking lately that . . ." she stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence. Once she did, there was no taking it back. They'd have to deal with it and she wasn't totally sure they were ready for that.
"It isn't something bad, is it?"
"No." He looked up her then, clearly confused. She could almost hear what he was thinking: then why are you acting like you can't bear to be around me? Taking a deep breath, Joan decided that they'd just have to deal whether they were ready or not. "I think I'm ready."
She held her breath, unsure of what he'd say or even what she wanted him to say.
"Ready for what?" he asked, looking at her blankly.
Letting out her breath with a huff, she groped for a way to delicately broach the subject and be perfectly clear at the same time. "I think," she began, "that I'm ready to stop waiting."
"Stop waiting for . . ." he cut himself off with a gasp as understanding dawned. "Oh. Jane."
"I know." Now that his full attention was trained on her, she felt strangely conspicuous like she'd flashed him in public instead of telling him in private that she wanted more.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure that I've been thinking about it lately. A lot."
"But," Adam stammered, "we decided to wait."
"I know."
Adam seemed at a loss for words. His brow furrowed. His breath came in short, anxious puffs. He turned so that he sat facing her, his legs crossed, a mirror of her position. "I haven't done anything to make you feel pressured, have I?"
"No, you've been a perfect gentleman," she said, smiling.
"Because I'll wait until you're ready. I'm not going anywhere. I never want to make you think you have to do this."
The smile faded from Joan's lips as a horrifying thought bloomed in her mind. "Adam, do you not want to? With me?"
"It's not that."
"Then what is it? Because I'm starting to feel very insecure."
He cupped her face in his hands and leaned forward until his forehead rested on hers. He scrunched his face in concentration, then sighed and sat up. "I do want you, Jane. But this is kinda sudden."
"I know."
"When we do finally have sex, I want to make sure you're ready, we're ready. I don't want you to regret it."
"But it would be with you," she blurted out. She squeezed her eyes shut only to look up at him through her lashes seconds later. The pleased grin on his face brought a smile to her own. "I'd never regret being with you, Adam."
Taking her hands in his, he brushed a quick kiss across her knuckles. "You say that now. But what if you get pregnant or something?"
"That's what protection is for."
"And if it doesn't work? Then what?"
Joan peered at him curiously. He seemed so reluctant to consider the topic. If it wasn't about him not wanting her, then why was he arguing against this? "Adam, are—are you ready?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"Oh." Her jaw hung open as shock spread through her. It had never occurred to her that Adam might have reservations. She'd just always assumed that he was sitting on ready, waiting for her to be ready, too.
Grinning at her expression, Adam gently placed a finger under her chin and closed her mouth. "It's not as simple as 'I'm a guy therefore I must be prepared to have sex,' Jane."
"I see."
"No. You don't," he said kindly. "But that's okay." He picked up the remote and turned the TV on as he scooted into the far corner of the sofa.
A part of Joan expected him to keep talking, thinking that maybe he'd turned the TV on for background noise. When a full minute passed and he hadn't said a word, she realized that he'd ended their conversation. Reaching over, she plucked the remote out of his lap and turned the TV off.
"Hey!"
"What was that?"
He dropped his head on the back of the sofa. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Oh. So because you don't want to talk about it, the conversation is over?"
"Jane," he sighed.
"Adam," she countered. "Look, you said I don't understand, so explain it to me."
"There's nothing to explain. I'm not sure I'm ready."
"But you just said that you want me."
"I do."
Joan gaped at him, still not understanding. "But . . ."
"Wanting you doesn't make me ready," he snapped.
For the second time in five minutes, Adam had surprised her into gape-mouthed silence. He never raised his voice to her. He never snapped at her. He rarely showed displays of temper at all. What had she done?
Shocked by her behavior, Joan got up and went to the kitchen.
"Jane," she heard him call. She ignored him. "Jane?"
She got a cup out of the cabinet and filled it with ice, still too dazed to comprehend what she'd just done. She'd just turned the faucet on when Adam's arms wrapped around her.
"Jane?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
Setting her glass on the counter, Joan slowly turned to face him. "I can't believe I did that to you. I tried to force you to do something . . . you'd never . . . I'm so sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is. You were just trying to figure out why I feel the way I do. There's nothing wrong with that."
Joan wasn't so sure her motives had been so pure. She felt such a deep sense of disappointment; she was certain she'd been hoping to change his mind. "You said you weren't ready. That should have been enough." She turned back to the sink, hoping he'd go back to the living room so she could berate herself in private.
He didn't leave but he didn't say anything either. Once she'd filled her glass, she considered facing him but her shame at her behavior wouldn't let her. Why wouldn't he just leave?
"I'm scared," he finally said.
"Scared of what?"
"Disappointing you." Joan turned toward him, disbelief written across her features. "Hurting you. It's all just a little intimidating." He chuckled self-consciously. "Our first time in every sense."
Slipping her arms around his waist, she peered up into his face until he met her gaze. "You could never disappoint me, Adam."
"Uh-huh. Sure."
"It may not be fireworks and champagne, but it will be whatever it's destined to be."
"And what if it's destined to be disappointing?"
She shook her head at him. "It's not. It's destined to be unforgettable."
"I don't doubt that."
Joan smiled. "And beautiful. I know it will be."
He stared at her, awed by her easy faith. "How can you know that?"
"Because the way you touch me is beautiful. And the way you look at me like I'm some heavenly, exquisite creature God put on Earth just for you."
"You are," he stated, blushing but not averting his gaze.
"How could it be anything but beautiful?" She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him.
"What about hurting you?"
Joan shrugged. "I expect a little pain, Adam. I mean, given the nature of it, I'm sure it'll hurt some in the beginning. Don't worry about it."
Adam dropped his chin on her shoulder and held her close. She knew that he was worrying about it anyway. Rubbing his back, she closed her eyes and hoped that this blew over. She didn't want to spoil their break.
"Let's go out tomorrow."
"Hmm?" Joan pulled back and looked up her boyfriend. "You want to go out?"
"Yeah. Let's go have dinner, maybe see a movie or a show or go bowling. Something like that."
"You mean like a date." She grinned. "We haven't gone on a date in a long time."
"I know. So tomorrow we'll go out and, when we get back, maybe we'll test that theory of yours."
"What theory?" she asked, frowning.
He smiled. "That our first time together will be beautiful and unforgettable."
"You don't have to do this, Adam."
"I know."
"It's not like I'm some raging sex addict or something."
"I know that, too," he said, trying not to laugh and failing.
"I can wait. It's probably for the best. I mean, I'm probably not as ready as I think I am. If we keep waiting . . ."
"It'll just get more intimidating. I'll be even more nervous. And it really would end up being disastrous. I'm not saying tomorrow night at nine forty-five sharp, we're going to take the plunge. I'm just saying that, if things look like they're headed in that direction, we won't hold back."
Joan stared at him with uncertain eyes. "Are you sure?"
"We can't go back to waiting, Jane. It's out there now."
"I was afraid of that."
Adam brushed a soft kiss across her mouth. "There's no rush, Jane. We'll see how it feels. When it's right, we'll know."
"Promise?"
"I promise," he said with a smile.
The tension in Joan's shoulders began to ease and she returned his smile. "So we're okay?"
"Mm-hmm."
"What do we do now?"
He opened his mouth then closed it in thought. "I don't know," he said finally. "But I'm sure we'll figure something out."