Much Too Sudden

Hey hey hey, I'm bored af. I need an Arthur in my life. Especially the one with the ink.

So how about y'all beautiful and confident women out there tell the world what your size is.

**~**

When I wake up, I'm sandwiched between my mother's belly and my father. It's not the first time this has happened and I blame all the space and comfiness of my bed. My parents have gotten a bit clingy these past few months too. I think it's the pregnancy and on top of that, wherever mom goes, dad goes.

Yawning, I sit up in the middle of the bed with my eyes half-closed. I look at the clock on the wall to see that it's almost six and I beat my alarm.

I throw a leg lazily over my dad's back to get out of bed. Normally, I would've done it to my mom but I'm too scared that I'll hurt the baby. So that's a no-go.

As I'm stepping over him he starts mumbling, "I got half a mind to throw yo ass off me. You know stepping over people ain't nothing but bad luck. I ain't teach you nothing all these years?" He doesn't open his eyes through any of this.

I roll my eyes, intentionally sitting on his back to set my feet on the ground. He grunts and I smile, but before I can get up, he flips onto his side quickly. I'm pretty sure his elbow catching in the middle of my back and the force behind it aren't coincidental either.

I stumble across the floor, catching myself on my hands and knees. I narrow my eyes when I hear him snickering. I get up, adjust my top, take the book that is conveniently sitting on my bedside table, and smack him on the arm with it.

"Dammit." He hisses and takes the pillow from beneath his head, chucking it at me. I dodge, choking back laughter so as to not wake my mom up, as I make my way over to my closet.

Before heading to the bathroom, I get my underwear, socks, a pair of light blue high-waisted jeans, and a white half-sweater.

Showering is going great as it usually is in the morning--I try my best not to get my hair wet, sing a few tune-y tunes, and get down to scrubbing--until the bathroom door opens.

"Mom!" I exclaim. "Can you at least knock first?" No matter how many times I ask this lady to knock, she doesn't seem to compute the request.

"I have to pee!" she replies, unapologetically. "By the time I knock and you answer, this baby gon have me pissing all over the floor. Is that what you want Grace? Pee pee carpets? Huh?"

"Oh my God," I groan loudly. It's all I can say, because no I do not want that.

I get out of the tub a few minutes after she leaves and lock the door before moisturizing and putting on my bra and panties. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and get into my facial routine. Surprisingly, it's been working in getting rid of my acne and my skin is mostly clear of all the pests called pimples.

It takes five minutes for me to get into my jeans and another five to admire how the fabric clings to me like a second skin, then another minute to contemplate if eating or breathing is even necessary. I take my hair out of my bun and watch in devastation as some of it slowly falls down to my shoulder while other places stay stuck in the air.

"Bun it is," I mutter to myself. Then spend another half an hour (I think) putting my hair in a sleek bun and doing my edges.

Grace, you just get hotter and hotter every day, I think, admiring how my clothes fit my body perfectly, hugging and showing off my curves. I tug at the bottom of my sweater. It's pretty thin for a sweater but it looks great around my bust area.

As soon as I walked out of my bathroom I hear two voices saying separate things.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"What the hell do you got on?"

Take a guess who said what.

I acknowledge the second statement because it's the one that needs elaboration. I crunch my eyebrows up, taking in the sight of my parents well snuggled up in my bed.

"What?" I look down at myself.

"What's all this?" He gestures to his chest.

I glance at my mom who's staring at him, just as confused as me apparently. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Hell, there ain't!"

Sighing, walk over to my vanity to get one of my scarves hanging over the top of the mirror. "What should I wear then?" I tie a blue scarf around my edges tightly.

"Something that can cover you."

"Oh come on, I think she looks nice," my mom says. "You look great, sweetie."

"Look, babe, you really don't have a say in this," he responds and my mom makes an appalled, squeaking sound, leaning away from him.

I decide to indulge him and make my way over to my closet. I grab one of the oversized white t-shirts I'd stolen from him and hold it up to my body. I raise my eyebrows at him.

He grins at me, "Perfect."

"Are you serious?" I retort, dropping my hands. It's literally a short-sleeve T. I'll look like a joke wearing it over my sweater.

He points at the shirt, giving me a look.

Just to make sure, I pull the shirt on over my head, careful not to mess up my hair, and stand there. He smiles widely, nodding.

"You can work anything, girl," he says sassily.

I can see my mom holding back a smile. "Andrew," she says but there's humor as much as there's reprimand in her tone.

He chuckles. "I'm just playing. Go ahead and change into the shirt." He waves toward the bathroom.

The sound that comes out of me is full of frustration and irritation. I adore my parents more than life itself, but they can tap dance all over my last nerve. There's nothing wrong with the top! It's not my fault I'm a woman with assets.

My dad mimics me and I glare at him. "Yeah, yeah, go change."

"Not another night," I mutter to myself, heading to the bathroom. It's my fault for not kicking them out when they came in here last night. I just love them so much and that's my only flaw as a daughter. But never again.

"Love you!" he calls out as I'm closing the door. I don't respond. "I know you love me too!"

I roll my eyes as I smile.

**~**

I'm at my locker switching out my books for third period when he approaches me.

Arthur leans against the locker next to mine and stares at me. He smells incredible and don't get me started on how he looks.

It's only the second day of school and it feels different just walking into the building. It may be because of him; the fact that I've seen him about a dozen times already, since we're in the senior wing, and we've smiled at each other every single time. I never dreamed he'd actually approach me though. I've gotten so used to passing him in the hallway and hardly looking his way that this is kind of odd.

Glancing around the hall, I turn back to him with my eyebrows raised. "Can I help you?"

"Go on a date with me."

I'm so shocked by the suddenness of it that I gape at him. It's only last night that we mended some things at the beach but that doesn't mean...

"Arthur," I stutter, eyeing him. Did I give him the wrong impression?

Probably. I let him cuddle me standing up and I smiled at him last night. And those other fifty times this morning.

Hugging my books to my chest, I close my locker as I turn to face him. It's not that I want to say no. But I don't want to say yes either.

"Please?" he says softly. He reaches out and takes one of my hands from its chokehold around my books.

My heart flutters. Oh no.

He's looking at me with those eyes. Those bright brown eyes that make me want to pull him into me and hold him for a long time. My skin tingles where he touches me and my eyelashes flutter next. He's moving forward and smiling at me. My heart stutters and stumbles like it's trying to sprint toward him.

"Grace," he says. His voice is low and smooth, grounding.

It's enough to snap me out of my trance and before I can even think about anything else, I snatch my hand out of his. His face falls.

"Hey-"

"I have to get to class," I mumble, turning away and practically running down the hallway. I don't look back when he calls after me or look at anyone when they glance my way.

"He just came up to you like that?" Sarah asks as we walk through aisles of cafeteria tables.

It's lunch and I'm telling the girls about Arthur and I's encounter this morning as we weave our way around bodies and furniture. The guys are already at our table, talking and eating--which is nasty by the way--when we get there.

"Yes," I whisper to her as I slide into one of the empty chairs. "I almost had a heart attack. Gosh."

I set my food down on the table, sit, and start shaking out my hands. The situation has been sitting on my conscience all through third and it hasn't gotten better.

"I feel like I'm going to pass out." I really don't know why I'm acting like this. I've been asked out before. Numerous times and all those times, I declined as nicely as I could without feeling like I owed any of them anything.

Why is it so different with him? Why am I still feeling like this? Why is my heart still pounding as if he asked me minutes before and not over an hour ago?

"Grace? Grace. Baby, breathe," Kim says, taking the seat next to me and running a hand up and down my bicep. "It's not that big of a deal. If you don't want to go out with him, say no. You've done this before." It looks like it hurt her to say it.

"Not with him." I turn to her, my eyes bouncing over her features frantically. "God-" I'm still flashing my hands, "-Kim you should've seen his face. I don't think I can do it." My heart starts pounding uncontrollably, almost painfully in my chest, and I think I might die for a second.

"You need to calm down," Kim murmurs.

Everyone's minding their business, having different conversations, and aren't even aware that I'm having a mini breakdown, possibly a panic attack, but I'm okay with that. I'm partially glad they're not noticing because it's embarrassing enough that I'm freaking out over a guy to begin with.

"Incoming," Kim hisses, but it's already too late.

"Hey."

I stop breathing, my hands freezing mid-flash. Maybe if I stay still, he won't see me anymore and leave. Disappear. Be invisible, Grace. You can do all things...

"You good?" Arthur asks. I can hear the worry in his voice.

I close my eyes instead of looking at him. "Yeah, fine!" I chirp.

The empty chair on the other side of me screeches across the tiles. Goosebumps rise on my arms.

"Is this about today?" Arthur asks lowly. I can smell him in my bubble and it's so intoxicating my head swims. "This morning?" he adds.

Exhaling, I open my eyes only to stare at the table. "Not everything's about you, you know."

"Then why won't you look at me?" he responds easily. I don't say anything.

Seconds later, one of his hands grip mine on my lap. I don't realize I'm wringing them until he forces me to stop. He runs his thumb across the back of my hand. I can't do anything other than sit there and watch our hands.

"I didn't mean to make you anxious," he says softly.

"I'm not anxious." I still don't look at him. I don't want to say no to him, but I'm not ready. I'm not the dating type and it's him. It's Arthur. We hardly spoke to each other for how long and I haven't forgotten why. Why we haven't spoken. I'll never forget what he said to me that day.

"You're a good liar, Grace. But even I know that's a lie." He squeezes my hand and that's when I look up at him. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Especially not with me. So you don't have to worry about it. Just forget it, yeah?"

I stare into his deep brown eyes and have to blink away the stinging in mine. All I can hear are those words like he'd said them to me yesterday. Grace... a pregnant woman has nothing on you. You and all those hormones.

He sees my eyes watering and the chill look on his face transforms into worry. He doesn't hesitate to stand, tugging on my hand as he does. "Let's go out into the hall for a little bit."

I don't deny him because I don't think I can and I don't want to. My emotions are running rampant and I don't need anyone else to see me acting this sad. So I mumble my departure to my friends without looking at them.