Serena Vox
ONE love, blood, life
Hello ladies. 
I meant to post this sooner but paper and pencil (or fingers and keyboard in this case...) have not been my best friends these days. I'd like to thank all my readers who give me wonderful comments and my lovely beta for putting up with me. 
Disclaimer: Don't own/know U2, don't make money off this, this never happened...etc.
Warnings: Little bit of language this time.
---
Since Grace’s absence at her home her mother decided to make an appearance, visiting the aging father of what seemed to be the object of her extreme distaste. The family was one of much abnormality; one could argue. Their beliefs and traditions were quite questionable to the average person, which was why they had inhabited this small town and why so many secrets were kept.
When one didn’t adhere to the ways, they were dealt with. By whatever means deemed necessary. And family…family were no exception. The differences in the dealing were dependent upon the person, what was done, what the relation is to the rest; easily called a cult of sorts, with no name.
And even though she had fled, it had just begun.
This quiet evening, her mother stopped by the house, catching up with her father and discussing their ‘plans’. He had been looking through a photo album spanning his lifetime from his childhood, to his marriage, his oldest son Gary's and Grace’s births, to the divorce and beyond. The occasional photos of those four familiar musicians were sprinkled sparsely from page to page, depending on the date and who was in he photo. He pulled out one particular picture, studying it intently.
“But here is the question, dear. Do you honestly think that they will tell her?” Jeanie asked, gaining his attention.
“He’s gonna eventually slip up. He can’t hide it from her forever,” He replied, taking a sip out of the cup of water that he kept by the in table.
His eyes fixed down on the photo in his other hand. It was a torn, yellowish paper by now, taken from so long ago. The singer was stood straight up, his hands supporting the little Grace sat on his shoulders, the other three young men gathered around. To his memory, they’d been a nice bunch. They were always respectful, open-minded and passionate about what they did. Even for kids their ages.
The impression that they left, would be forever remembered to this family. The charismatic singer had easily befriended his normally quiet and shy daughter. She had never been one to talk to people, not even to show off in front of most friends of the father. How the young man had managed it, he’d never know. Thinking back, he began to regret pulling Bono out of Grace’s life. It had been a necessary move to take the largest positive influence out of the midst to sway her to their side. Unfortunately for them, it hadn’t worked. Grace was a smart child; a very smart child. She possessed a keen sense of right and wrong and that in itself, was enough to make her reject their traditions, however questionable they may be.
Therefore, as a result of this, she became the black sheep.
And what’s more, he hadn’t expected Bono to reappear in her life. He made sure all the townsfolk knew not to divulge any information about the girl to anyone foreign to their town, much less the country.
“Aha, but will it have the desired effect?” She suddenly asked, knocking him out of his train of thought.
“I can’t really say for sure. The best I got is that finding out from us, will push her towards him, so perhaps the opposite will make her push him away.”
“Perhaps? You’re going out on a limb here? Dammit, Jack. I told you we should’ve dealt with her sooner.”
Jack sighed, looking up at his ex-wife, “Look, as much of a pain as she is—”
“More like a disgrace. We named her wrong,” She cut in, snorting.
“Shut up for a minute,” He said sharply, “She’s not all bad, okay?”
“Listen to yourself, Jack. She’s not one of us. Plain and simple.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Damn, woman. Of course I know that. I’d rather just get this over with. Did you talk to her?”
“She didn’t answer, so I left a message on her phone.”
“Good,” He replied simply, taking another sip of water. “Now we wait.”
Jeanie watched him lay the photo down on the in table and set the glass down from his other hand. She sighed. Waiting had not been her favourite game to play, by far.
***
Back at Bono’s apartment, nightfall began to approach. The rest of the band had taken off for the evening, leaving Grace in the lead man’s hands for now, after much argument from Edge’s part. They felt it best to leave her with him to sort things out without them all hovering around her, making her feel as suffocated as Bono probably did by himself, being in her face all the time.
She looked down at the basically empty pizza boxes lying around. Her gaze shifted over to where each of his band mates had been sitting earlier in the evening, all empty spaces. Bono was leaned up against the chair, resting his head on the arm. She looked at the clock, sighing. The thought that perhaps she should take off, not that she’d know where on earth to go, crossed her mind.
She stood up from the chair, the singer looked up, watching her pick up the jacket he’d given her and lifted his head off the arm.
“Where are you going?” He asked, standing up straight.
“It’s getting late…”
“Well, I was just thinking maybe…you’d like to stay here for tonight. In the guest room, of course,” He said quickly, trying not to stumble over his words.
She looked down at the floor for a moment, before returning her eyes to his. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a bother.”
“You’re not. I just…I’d worry about you if you went back there after what happened today. At least here, I’ll know you’re safe.”
He doesn’t want me to go back there alone, does he?
“Alright,” She said with a small sigh, resting an arm on the chair.
He walked over to her, taking the jacket from her arms and placed it onto the coat rack by the door. He turned to look back at her, watching him with those curious eyes of hers. She tore her gaze from him and looked down at the carpet, suddenly feeling awkward even though there was nothing to feel awkward about here.
“Do you need anything at all? I have some shirts that would probably be a big fit you need something to sleep in…”
“I’d like that…” She replied, looking down at her clothes.
“Gimme a sec,” The singer said, walking off into his bedroom to rummage his belongings. He searched through his shirts until he found a rather large, black one and returned into the living area with it, holding it up. “Will this do?”
She looked at it and nodded approvingly. “That will be fine. Not too fussed about looks.”
“Of course,” He handed the shirt to her and took her arm carefully, leading her down the hallway. He showed her where to find the bathroom and other such things before opening the guest room for her, motioning for her to go inside.
“Hey Bono?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you…”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, really…” She trailed off, looking down at the floor. “No one’s ever really done anything like this for me before…thank you.”
“You deserve it at the very least. You’re very welcome,” He replied, holding his arms out to her. She approached him, wrapping her arms around him as he pulled her into a tight hug. They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to let the other go, knowing they’d have to; before things got or felt awkward to say the least. He pulled back from her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “Now then. Get some sleep. I’ll just be down the hall if you need anything at all, alright?”
She nodded in response, rubbing her eyes with her hands. She looked down at the shirt in her hands and let out a bit of a sigh, “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, love. Good night,” He said, pulling her close enough to kiss her forehead and exited the room, closing the door behind him.
He sighed, his gaze focused down on the floor. What the fuck is happening to me? He thought, his mind suddenly raking over the feelings swimming around in his head. It was all so new and foreign to him. Sure, he’d liked plenty of women long before Grace showed back up in his life, or vice versa. Though lust may serve as a better word. Something was different this time. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on just yet. And that same something that has only encouraged his approach to the young woman. Shaking it off, he went back into the living area, chucked off the jacket and laid down on the couch, still fully clothed in the garments from the day.
She changed into the shirt he’d given her and crawled into bed, She was tired but at the same time, not. She sighed, lying on her back, looking up at the dim ceiling as thoughts raced through her mind. Everything from what her father was going to say when he saw her next to what to make of Bono. Giving up after just a few moments, she sighed, rolling onto her side and drifted off.
***
The next morning had come by all too soon. It seemed to be shaping up to be a fairly nice day judging by the sunrise Grace had watched before dozing back off, having been drifting in and out of sleep for quite some time now. She turned over onto her back, wriggling her shoulders against the soft material of the baggy tee shirt Bono had given her the night before. His scent trailed over her senses several times, causing her to breathe it in and exhale almost contently. She finally lifted up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
After a moment, she finally slid out of the bed, pulling off the large shirt. She set it down onto the bed and picked up her clothes from yesterday, pulling them back on. Once dressed, she looked over at the clock. It was fifteen past nine.
Bono’s probably already up...
She went out of the room, closing the door behind her quietly in case by some chance he was still in bed and looked down the hallway. She saw him sprawled out on the couch, looking to be half asleep. His hair was mussed, his clothing wrinkled to the ends and back, disheveled from his sleep. He looked peaceful, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly parted and his chest rose and fell steadily with each breath. A smile crept across her face. With a small giggle, she walked by him and into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of water she had sipped on the night before. She opened it and took a large drink of it, carrying it off into the living room. Bono stirred, looking up at her with a faint grin, “Good morning, love.”
“Morning Bono.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I think so,” She replied, sitting down in the chair with her water.
“Good. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. I don’t usually have much of an appetite when I first wake up.”
“Fair enough,” He said, pulling his legs off the couch and sat straight up.
“If you are, don’t let me keep you from eating.” She said, looking him over.
“Nope, not really,” He replied, running his fingers through his tangled hair, wincing at the snags. He leaned back against the cushion, looking up at the ceiling.
She fell silent for a long moment and he followed suit. Spending the night at his place, same room or not had proven to be a tad on the awkward side. At least for her. She scratched her head and looked down at the floor, finding herself at a loss for words. The singer studied her face, looking at what was left of the bruise that probably still hurt a little and sighed.
“It looks better,” He spoke back up.
“What does?” She asked, clearly confused.
“The mark…”
“Oh. That.”
“I’m sorry…” He trailed off, lifting himself off the couch and made his way over to her.
He motioned for her to scoot a little bit and she did, making room for him to ease his weight against the arm of the chair, being sure that his feet were secured to the floor lest he tip it over. She looked away from him, all sorts of thoughts swimming through her head. And yet no idea what to make of any of them. He leaned down, putting his arm around her. She tried to pull away at first, but gave in, sinking into his touch.
“It’s not your fault,” She protested.
“No, it’s not. But I am sorry that it happened. I’m not letting him hurt you again, or anyone for that matter.”
Grace continued to look down at the floor, not once meeting his gaze. Her eyes began to well up with tears at his words. She finally got the courage to look him in the eyes, only realizing now the he sported no sunglasses to speak of. His eyes sparkled brilliantly, holding a loving glint in them. She found it hard to tear her own glance from them but willed herself to, feeling the tears begin to trickle down her face. He eased down the arm of the chair, almost right onto her and pulled her into both of his arms, trying to comfort her.
“Oh, love. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
She fought it for a moment, pushing against his chest to try and pry his grip loose but she found she could not. Not for the lack of strength, but for the lack of comfort. She threw her arms around his neck, turning to face him. He watched her bury her face into his shoulder, the tears beginning to dampen his shirt in that spot.
“I’m sorry…I…” She mumbled against his shoulder.
“Shh, it’s okay,” He whispered. Seeing a woman cry was never his favourite thing. No matter whom it was. Then or now.
He held her tight, allowing her the moment she obviously needed. He rested his chin against her temple, letting out a long exhale. She picked her head up off his shoulder after a long moment and wiped away the tears from her puffy, red eyes. He lifted his hand to her cheek, caressing the skin gently all the while taking care not to aggravate the bruise. She flinched but soon relaxed, looking into his calming ocean blues. His fingers trailed over the skin, moist from tears, to her ear, pushing the stray strands of hair behind it and eased her close to him, raising his own head up without so much as a thought. Her ragged breath stilled as his lips covered hers, treading carefully in the process, lips brushing against the softness of hers. Once he found no protest, he leaned closer, letting his tongue flicker out; wetting her lips, seeking entrance. Floored, she grabbed for the shoulders of his shirt and opened her mouth, allowing his unfamiliar tongue to taste hers, to dance with hers. Her emotions began to shift as quickly as the breeze, happiness began to well up and boil over.
If this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.
She tentatively explored his mouth, his scent and taste weighing heavy on her senses. It seemed like ages before they parted. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. His eyes were closed, an intent look on his face. Perhaps he was studying what he’d just done. She’d probably never know. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to complain either. He scooted forward, standing up out of the chair.
“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have…” He finally forced out, not once meeting her glance.
No, don’t be sorry...
“I-it’s okay,” She stammered, not knowing what else to say.
“When should we go?” He quickly changed the subject.
“The sooner the better.”
He walked over to the shelves, grabbing his keys from the top of it and shoved them into his pocket. He then marched off to his bedroom without a word, going through his things for his cell phone. As per usual, he was having trouble locating it. His thoughts raced, his mind wandering. He leaned up against the wall, banging his head against it carefully, so as not to hurt himself. What are you doing?! What were you thinking?! He thought to himself. With a sigh, he looked down to see the phone in plain sight and grabbed it up from the night stand.
Grace walked down the hallway shortly after, going back into the guest room to gather her things. She leaned over the night stand, picking up the blue sunglasses and put them on over her head, shoving her hair out of her face with them and picked up the cell, ignoring what was an obviously upset text message from John. She deleted it, stuffing it into her pocket and met a freshly changed Bono back in the hallway. She handed the shirt over to him and he took it, leaning into the bathroom and threw it into the dirty clothes. He turned to face her, letting out a small sigh. “Shall we?” He asked hesitantly and she agreed.
I meant to post this sooner but paper and pencil (or fingers and keyboard in this case...) have not been my best friends these days. I'd like to thank all my readers who give me wonderful comments and my lovely beta for putting up with me. Disclaimer: Don't own/know U2, don't make money off this, this never happened...etc.
Warnings: Little bit of language this time.
---
Since Grace’s absence at her home her mother decided to make an appearance, visiting the aging father of what seemed to be the object of her extreme distaste. The family was one of much abnormality; one could argue. Their beliefs and traditions were quite questionable to the average person, which was why they had inhabited this small town and why so many secrets were kept.
When one didn’t adhere to the ways, they were dealt with. By whatever means deemed necessary. And family…family were no exception. The differences in the dealing were dependent upon the person, what was done, what the relation is to the rest; easily called a cult of sorts, with no name.
And even though she had fled, it had just begun.
This quiet evening, her mother stopped by the house, catching up with her father and discussing their ‘plans’. He had been looking through a photo album spanning his lifetime from his childhood, to his marriage, his oldest son Gary's and Grace’s births, to the divorce and beyond. The occasional photos of those four familiar musicians were sprinkled sparsely from page to page, depending on the date and who was in he photo. He pulled out one particular picture, studying it intently.
“But here is the question, dear. Do you honestly think that they will tell her?” Jeanie asked, gaining his attention.
“He’s gonna eventually slip up. He can’t hide it from her forever,” He replied, taking a sip out of the cup of water that he kept by the in table.
His eyes fixed down on the photo in his other hand. It was a torn, yellowish paper by now, taken from so long ago. The singer was stood straight up, his hands supporting the little Grace sat on his shoulders, the other three young men gathered around. To his memory, they’d been a nice bunch. They were always respectful, open-minded and passionate about what they did. Even for kids their ages.
The impression that they left, would be forever remembered to this family. The charismatic singer had easily befriended his normally quiet and shy daughter. She had never been one to talk to people, not even to show off in front of most friends of the father. How the young man had managed it, he’d never know. Thinking back, he began to regret pulling Bono out of Grace’s life. It had been a necessary move to take the largest positive influence out of the midst to sway her to their side. Unfortunately for them, it hadn’t worked. Grace was a smart child; a very smart child. She possessed a keen sense of right and wrong and that in itself, was enough to make her reject their traditions, however questionable they may be.
Therefore, as a result of this, she became the black sheep.
And what’s more, he hadn’t expected Bono to reappear in her life. He made sure all the townsfolk knew not to divulge any information about the girl to anyone foreign to their town, much less the country.
“Aha, but will it have the desired effect?” She suddenly asked, knocking him out of his train of thought.
“I can’t really say for sure. The best I got is that finding out from us, will push her towards him, so perhaps the opposite will make her push him away.”
“Perhaps? You’re going out on a limb here? Dammit, Jack. I told you we should’ve dealt with her sooner.”
Jack sighed, looking up at his ex-wife, “Look, as much of a pain as she is—”
“More like a disgrace. We named her wrong,” She cut in, snorting.
“Shut up for a minute,” He said sharply, “She’s not all bad, okay?”
“Listen to yourself, Jack. She’s not one of us. Plain and simple.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Damn, woman. Of course I know that. I’d rather just get this over with. Did you talk to her?”
“She didn’t answer, so I left a message on her phone.”
“Good,” He replied simply, taking another sip of water. “Now we wait.”
Jeanie watched him lay the photo down on the in table and set the glass down from his other hand. She sighed. Waiting had not been her favourite game to play, by far.
***
Back at Bono’s apartment, nightfall began to approach. The rest of the band had taken off for the evening, leaving Grace in the lead man’s hands for now, after much argument from Edge’s part. They felt it best to leave her with him to sort things out without them all hovering around her, making her feel as suffocated as Bono probably did by himself, being in her face all the time.
She looked down at the basically empty pizza boxes lying around. Her gaze shifted over to where each of his band mates had been sitting earlier in the evening, all empty spaces. Bono was leaned up against the chair, resting his head on the arm. She looked at the clock, sighing. The thought that perhaps she should take off, not that she’d know where on earth to go, crossed her mind.
She stood up from the chair, the singer looked up, watching her pick up the jacket he’d given her and lifted his head off the arm.
“Where are you going?” He asked, standing up straight.
“It’s getting late…”
“Well, I was just thinking maybe…you’d like to stay here for tonight. In the guest room, of course,” He said quickly, trying not to stumble over his words.
She looked down at the floor for a moment, before returning her eyes to his. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a bother.”
“You’re not. I just…I’d worry about you if you went back there after what happened today. At least here, I’ll know you’re safe.”
He doesn’t want me to go back there alone, does he?
“Alright,” She said with a small sigh, resting an arm on the chair.
He walked over to her, taking the jacket from her arms and placed it onto the coat rack by the door. He turned to look back at her, watching him with those curious eyes of hers. She tore her gaze from him and looked down at the carpet, suddenly feeling awkward even though there was nothing to feel awkward about here.
“Do you need anything at all? I have some shirts that would probably be a big fit you need something to sleep in…”
“I’d like that…” She replied, looking down at her clothes.
“Gimme a sec,” The singer said, walking off into his bedroom to rummage his belongings. He searched through his shirts until he found a rather large, black one and returned into the living area with it, holding it up. “Will this do?”
She looked at it and nodded approvingly. “That will be fine. Not too fussed about looks.”
“Of course,” He handed the shirt to her and took her arm carefully, leading her down the hallway. He showed her where to find the bathroom and other such things before opening the guest room for her, motioning for her to go inside.
“Hey Bono?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you…”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, really…” She trailed off, looking down at the floor. “No one’s ever really done anything like this for me before…thank you.”
“You deserve it at the very least. You’re very welcome,” He replied, holding his arms out to her. She approached him, wrapping her arms around him as he pulled her into a tight hug. They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to let the other go, knowing they’d have to; before things got or felt awkward to say the least. He pulled back from her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “Now then. Get some sleep. I’ll just be down the hall if you need anything at all, alright?”
She nodded in response, rubbing her eyes with her hands. She looked down at the shirt in her hands and let out a bit of a sigh, “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, love. Good night,” He said, pulling her close enough to kiss her forehead and exited the room, closing the door behind him.
He sighed, his gaze focused down on the floor. What the fuck is happening to me? He thought, his mind suddenly raking over the feelings swimming around in his head. It was all so new and foreign to him. Sure, he’d liked plenty of women long before Grace showed back up in his life, or vice versa. Though lust may serve as a better word. Something was different this time. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on just yet. And that same something that has only encouraged his approach to the young woman. Shaking it off, he went back into the living area, chucked off the jacket and laid down on the couch, still fully clothed in the garments from the day.
She changed into the shirt he’d given her and crawled into bed, She was tired but at the same time, not. She sighed, lying on her back, looking up at the dim ceiling as thoughts raced through her mind. Everything from what her father was going to say when he saw her next to what to make of Bono. Giving up after just a few moments, she sighed, rolling onto her side and drifted off.
***
The next morning had come by all too soon. It seemed to be shaping up to be a fairly nice day judging by the sunrise Grace had watched before dozing back off, having been drifting in and out of sleep for quite some time now. She turned over onto her back, wriggling her shoulders against the soft material of the baggy tee shirt Bono had given her the night before. His scent trailed over her senses several times, causing her to breathe it in and exhale almost contently. She finally lifted up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
After a moment, she finally slid out of the bed, pulling off the large shirt. She set it down onto the bed and picked up her clothes from yesterday, pulling them back on. Once dressed, she looked over at the clock. It was fifteen past nine.
Bono’s probably already up...
She went out of the room, closing the door behind her quietly in case by some chance he was still in bed and looked down the hallway. She saw him sprawled out on the couch, looking to be half asleep. His hair was mussed, his clothing wrinkled to the ends and back, disheveled from his sleep. He looked peaceful, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly parted and his chest rose and fell steadily with each breath. A smile crept across her face. With a small giggle, she walked by him and into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of water she had sipped on the night before. She opened it and took a large drink of it, carrying it off into the living room. Bono stirred, looking up at her with a faint grin, “Good morning, love.”
“Morning Bono.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I think so,” She replied, sitting down in the chair with her water.
“Good. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. I don’t usually have much of an appetite when I first wake up.”
“Fair enough,” He said, pulling his legs off the couch and sat straight up.
“If you are, don’t let me keep you from eating.” She said, looking him over.
“Nope, not really,” He replied, running his fingers through his tangled hair, wincing at the snags. He leaned back against the cushion, looking up at the ceiling.
She fell silent for a long moment and he followed suit. Spending the night at his place, same room or not had proven to be a tad on the awkward side. At least for her. She scratched her head and looked down at the floor, finding herself at a loss for words. The singer studied her face, looking at what was left of the bruise that probably still hurt a little and sighed.
“It looks better,” He spoke back up.
“What does?” She asked, clearly confused.
“The mark…”
“Oh. That.”
“I’m sorry…” He trailed off, lifting himself off the couch and made his way over to her.
He motioned for her to scoot a little bit and she did, making room for him to ease his weight against the arm of the chair, being sure that his feet were secured to the floor lest he tip it over. She looked away from him, all sorts of thoughts swimming through her head. And yet no idea what to make of any of them. He leaned down, putting his arm around her. She tried to pull away at first, but gave in, sinking into his touch.
“It’s not your fault,” She protested.
“No, it’s not. But I am sorry that it happened. I’m not letting him hurt you again, or anyone for that matter.”
Grace continued to look down at the floor, not once meeting his gaze. Her eyes began to well up with tears at his words. She finally got the courage to look him in the eyes, only realizing now the he sported no sunglasses to speak of. His eyes sparkled brilliantly, holding a loving glint in them. She found it hard to tear her own glance from them but willed herself to, feeling the tears begin to trickle down her face. He eased down the arm of the chair, almost right onto her and pulled her into both of his arms, trying to comfort her.
“Oh, love. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
She fought it for a moment, pushing against his chest to try and pry his grip loose but she found she could not. Not for the lack of strength, but for the lack of comfort. She threw her arms around his neck, turning to face him. He watched her bury her face into his shoulder, the tears beginning to dampen his shirt in that spot.
“I’m sorry…I…” She mumbled against his shoulder.
“Shh, it’s okay,” He whispered. Seeing a woman cry was never his favourite thing. No matter whom it was. Then or now.
He held her tight, allowing her the moment she obviously needed. He rested his chin against her temple, letting out a long exhale. She picked her head up off his shoulder after a long moment and wiped away the tears from her puffy, red eyes. He lifted his hand to her cheek, caressing the skin gently all the while taking care not to aggravate the bruise. She flinched but soon relaxed, looking into his calming ocean blues. His fingers trailed over the skin, moist from tears, to her ear, pushing the stray strands of hair behind it and eased her close to him, raising his own head up without so much as a thought. Her ragged breath stilled as his lips covered hers, treading carefully in the process, lips brushing against the softness of hers. Once he found no protest, he leaned closer, letting his tongue flicker out; wetting her lips, seeking entrance. Floored, she grabbed for the shoulders of his shirt and opened her mouth, allowing his unfamiliar tongue to taste hers, to dance with hers. Her emotions began to shift as quickly as the breeze, happiness began to well up and boil over.
If this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.
She tentatively explored his mouth, his scent and taste weighing heavy on her senses. It seemed like ages before they parted. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. His eyes were closed, an intent look on his face. Perhaps he was studying what he’d just done. She’d probably never know. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to complain either. He scooted forward, standing up out of the chair.
“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have…” He finally forced out, not once meeting her glance.
No, don’t be sorry...
“I-it’s okay,” She stammered, not knowing what else to say.
“When should we go?” He quickly changed the subject.
“The sooner the better.”
He walked over to the shelves, grabbing his keys from the top of it and shoved them into his pocket. He then marched off to his bedroom without a word, going through his things for his cell phone. As per usual, he was having trouble locating it. His thoughts raced, his mind wandering. He leaned up against the wall, banging his head against it carefully, so as not to hurt himself. What are you doing?! What were you thinking?! He thought to himself. With a sigh, he looked down to see the phone in plain sight and grabbed it up from the night stand.
Grace walked down the hallway shortly after, going back into the guest room to gather her things. She leaned over the night stand, picking up the blue sunglasses and put them on over her head, shoving her hair out of her face with them and picked up the cell, ignoring what was an obviously upset text message from John. She deleted it, stuffing it into her pocket and met a freshly changed Bono back in the hallway. She handed the shirt over to him and he took it, leaning into the bathroom and threw it into the dirty clothes. He turned to face her, letting out a small sigh. “Shall we?” He asked hesitantly and she agreed.
(Well-written, I mean, but ominous! I can't fathom people who would actually think like that.)
Naughty!
Amazing story..more more! 
