Because, Sometimes . . . #2.
. . . actions speak louder than words.

It was different, just watching and not saying anything as my deaf little sister spoke to me using only her hands.

Ethereal, even.

“Mom?” I asked. “What is she saying?”

“Ariane is asking you how you are,” my mother told me, watching my reaction as I processed her words.

“Oh,” I smiled. “Can you tell her that I’m okay and that I love her?”

“Of course I will, Malina. Do you have to go?”

I nodded quietly, and sighed. “Please tell Ariane that I’m sorry, and that my boss is too strict for me to stay too long. I’ll come back as soon as I can, and hopefully for a longer time.”

Quickly, I stood up and kissed Mom’s rosy cheek and Ariane’s soft forehead before heading out the door.

When I was halfway down the stairs, the tears came—for my sister, for my mom, and especially for me.

---

Five months later . . .

“I have no idea when I’ll be able to go see you nonstop, Ricia,” I whispered hurriedly into the phone. “My schedule is packed: I have to go see Ariane tomorrow as soon as I’ve finished writing the article and after I have to get groceries because I cannot keep eating ramen noodles every day. And then, I have to get my cup of coffee since I’ll practically be driving almost four hours to get to your rehearsal dinner. I’m lucky to even get two weeks of leave, my boss is so strict.”

“Oh my,” my best friend, Patricia, laughed, “you are one busy bee, aren’t you? But what about Henry? Isn’t he still living with you? Couldn’t he get the groceries and all that single apartment crap?”

Regardless of the fact that she couldn’t even see me, I shook my head. “I broke up with Henry a while ago, I thought I told you.”

She was silent for about seven seconds before she replied, “No, I don’t remember. Hm, maybe you’re too stressed. Maybe it’s a good thing we’re going to the spa before my big day.”

“Oh my God, the spa sounds great,” I sighed, already imagining being pampered and preened, and talking about anything and everything with my engaged best friend.

Ricia’s high laugh sounded through the speakers and I joined in with her. “I know, right?! I can’t wait either! Our skin will be smooth and soft and silky and gorgeous and Brian will probably die when he sees me! And,”—here she let in another cheeky laugh—“I’m sure Carter’s jaw will drop waaaay down when he sees you.”

On the other end of the line, I narrowed my eyes. “Is this why you want me to get there so early? To see Carter?”

“No, of course not!” Well, Ricia never was an accomplished liar.

I hmphed and she crumbled underneath my silent wrath. “Well, of course Malina,” she sighed into the phone, “what did you think? I mean, I miss you and everything, but I know you miss Carter more—even if you won’t admit it.”

“What do I have to admit?” I asked, knowing that, yes, I missed him—man, she knew me so well.

“Everything—that you love him and that you miss him and that you want to spend the rest of your life with him. Duh. He's probably the reason you broke up with little ole Henry.”

I sighed. “And? What do you think he’ll say? Last time, he didn’t tell me he loved me or that he missed me or that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. What if I end up humiliating myself in front of him? What then, Rish?” I didn't bother saying that Carter was the reason I'd broken up with Henry.

“Don’t tell him,” she said, “just . . . show him.”

“But . . . how?” I felt like crying, I was so confused. Did I still love Carter? Did he still love me? Did he even remember me?

“That’s up to you, Mal.”

“Yeah,” I managed to say, “I thought so.”

---

The next day, after putting in an hour long visit with Ariane, whose seventh birthday had just past, I got my sustenance from a local java drive-thru and headed towards Ricia’s.

It was three hours and thirty minutes—thankfully with no traffic—before I got to the place Patricia was going to stay in while she waited out the days until her wedding.

She greeted me in a flurry of wild strawberry blonde hair, peaches and cream shampoo, lots of squeals and lots of hugs before she finally let me breathe.

“Malina!” she cried. “I missed you! Oh, you must say hello to Brian!”

I grinned at her. “Of course I will, Rish! I need to give him Malina’s Patent Pending Seal of Approval.”

She giggled. “Oh, you Mal, always joking. Anyways, he’s over here. Come on, come on.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed her nonetheless. When we stopped in front of another house, right across the street, I breathed in and out, trying to calm myself.

It was common sense that I knew about the fact that Carter was on the other side, along with Brian, probably talking cars or money or about Ricia—probably not one word spoken about me.

I mean, sure, Brian loved me like he loved his adorable little sister, but Carter was his best friend and who Carter didn’t like, Brian acted like he didn’t either.

I just hoped Brian would at least smile at me; that would be nice.

When the door opened, I braced myself for it, and was surprised when Brian’s muscle-y arms encircled my body and tightened for a fraction of a second.

“Malina!” he laughed. “You’ve arrived! How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Trying to be discreet (but failing miserably), I scanned around the room and found no sign of Carter.

Hm. “So, where’s the . . . Best . . .—uh, Man?”

“Uhm, he’s making a run for his coffee. Why do you ask?”

“So I could run for the hills before we see each other face-to-face again.”

“You do know you’re the Maid of Honor and therefore you two will be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’d rather put it off while I can.”

“—Put what off?” came the simultaneously pleasing and gut-wrenching voice in my entire universe, as deep and as sexy as ever.

“Put off the time we see each other, Carter,” I broke off, each word slicing through me like a dull knife through hard, steel-like wood.

“Oh, well, hello Malina,” he said, not even betraying any emotion of hearing my voice as I finally turned around and came lips to forehead with him.

If he wanted to, he could kiss my temple right now—though, I doubt he’d want to.

“Carter.”

He was as gorgeous as ever, I realized, my eyes taking in his deep, dark eyes, the way his auburn brown hair played against his forehead, and the fact that his ever-present smirk was absent from his lightly tanned face.

“Malina.” The way he said my name made me shiver and burn inwardly at the same time. Hurriedly, I stepped away from him, until I was beside the other bed in the room.

“Er—“ Ricia butt in, slicing through the tense air effectively, “could you two please help the wedding planners with the flower arrangement for today? Brian and I have to pick up his tux at the tailor’s. . . please? Malina, I promise we’ll go to the spa after the flower arrangements are finished.”

Without hesitating, I replied, “Of course we will.” Ricia was getting married and even if I had to sleep with Carter to make her happy, I would do so—I just hope she didn’t ask me to.

Carter glanced at me quickly for a second before nodding, resigned to his fate.

“Yeah,” he echoed, “we’ll do it.”

“Perfect!” Patricia clapped, as peppy and as happy as ever. She smiled brightly at the both of us.

“You’re due to meet the planner in a few hours, so just settle in, and take a taxi to the Ritz-Carlton when you’re ready. Ta-ta!”

Brian took his hand in hers before both of them smiled and waved, laughing and giggling as soon as they turned away from the two of us.

The tension was heavy in the air between our separate positions in Brian’s and Carter’s room.

“So . . .” I trailed off awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck, my senses on hypersensitive as I tried not to stare too long at the way his back pressed against his well-fitted t-shirt perfectly and the way his hair was messily hanging into his eyes.

It was kinda hard, especially since I was trying to hate him—and failing, obviously.

“So, are you gonna keep checking me out or are you going to go unpack in Rish’s room?”

I blushed immediately, but squared my shoulders and walked until I was in front of him again, lips to forehead.

“You are not going to boss me around while we’re here, okay? We are going to help Brian and Ricia with their wedding whether we like it or not. If they’re not glowing like . . . like two identically adorable suns by the end of this week, I will personally see to it that you never have the chance to have children.”

He raised his eyebrows as he stared down at me. “Is that so?” I nodded emphatically. “Well, then, fine. I’ll help, and all you have to do is promise not to fall in love with me.”

I stared into his eyes for a minute, even though it felt like an eternity. “. . . that—that won’t be so hard,” I told him, hoping that I wasn’t lying to myself.

I just knew I was—because I’d already fallen in love with him; I’d been in love with him for an entire year.

But he didn’t need to know that, now did he?

---

“No!” I cried, hurriedly grabbing his warm, slightly sweaty hand before he could lay one finger on the shiny crystal vase. “Don’t! It’s perfect where it is.”

“How can you say that?” he asked me incredulously. “It’s obviously off center.”

“No it’s not,” I spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s perfect.”

He scoffed, and, even through my furious glare, moved the vase, almost spilling the water and the flowers onto the white tablecloth.

Without even hesitating, I marched up to him and poked him in the chest, trying to ignore the hard muscle underneath my finger.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, getting into his face—pretty stupid of me, really.

I tried to ignore the fact that I was losing my adrenaline rush, that I was letting myself weaken in front of him as I stared even deeper into his eyes.

“Because,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “it was off center. Couldn’t you tell?”

I shook my head, unable to find words at this moment.

“It was so obvious, Malina,” he said, letting the corners of his lips lift slightly as he realized what he was doing to me.

Damn perceptiveness.

“Malina, Malina, Malina,” he sang, his fingers suddenly enclosing around the finger still pointing to his chest, “I thought I told you not to fall in love with me?”

What I wanted to say was that I already had fallen in love with him, but how could I? He’d just reject me again, just like he did six months ago.

“I’m not,” I told him, as stubborn as ever. “Why would I fall in love with you, Carter? It’s not like you were ever in love with me.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but I was already halfway out of the ballroom before he even noticed.

---

After Brian and Rish were finally married—she was still glowing, a full five hours at least; I was feeling rather accomplished—the wedding party entered the ballroom Carter and I helped decorate before that tension-filled scene where I ran out on him, like all the clichés Ricia and I had ever read.

To my chagrin, I had to dance with Carter. It was mandatory, no questions asked. I didn’t even bother.

I tried not to stare too deeply into his eyes, one hand on my waist with another one firmly holding mine, tight.

Instead, I stared at a spot over his shoulder, determined not to say anything—and, it seemed, he wanted to be as silent as I was.

I could feel his gaze on my face, though, the way his deep brown eyes bored into the side of my forehead; it was like he was mentally telling me to look at him, because I really, really wanted to.

My head hurt as my mind relentlessly pounded me with memories of his kisses, the way he looked at me like I was his world, the way he smiled whenever he saw me entering a room or heading towards him.

I remembered the way he kissed my neck, feather light, leaving me wanting more and knowing what effect he had on me. I remembered the way he lifted me up by my waist, twirling me around in the air effortlessly, the way he smiled up at me, and the way he laughed as soon as I started to.

But then I remembered when I told him that I loved him, the way he looked at me with a blankness in his eyes, and the way he didn’t say anything for such a long time that I ended up just getting way from the way he was looking at me and leaving unspoken words behind me.

Finally, after scolding myself for being such a weakling, I looked at him, asking him with my eyes what he wanted from me.

It was only when he brushed his thumb across my cheeks that I realized I was crying. “Hey,” he whispered, a bit of his old self pushing through with the way he said that one word. “Why are you crying? You’re Malina McPherson, and you don’t cry.”

Using my embarrassing clogged voice, I replied, “You’re Carter Farley, and you never loved me. I thought you did with the way you looked at me and—and treated me . . . but you didn’t.” I regretted the way my voice broke on the last word and turned away from him.

Desperate to keep Ricia from learning of any of what was happening between me and Carter, I turned away from the safe circle of his arms to run into the heavily furnished hotel lobby.

“Mal—Mal, wait!” I knew I was going to regret stopping in my tracks later, when I was in my bed, all by myself now that Rish was married and jetting off to their destination honeymoon, but I turned to face him anyway.

“What is it?” I asked him fiercely. “What do you want from me, Carter? You’ve never wanted my love, you’ve never wanted me. What is it then?!”

He grabbed my upper arms and held me there until our bodies were nearly touching.

If they did, I knew I was going to crumple in his arms, breaking down the way only Carter had ever seen.

“Don’t you get it, Carter?” I nearly shouted. “I love you! I’ve loved you for the entire four years I’ve known you; I just never really noticed until the day you asked me to go out with you.”

His eyes softened a little bit, and suddenly he was whispering, “You know I’ve never been good with words, Malina . . .”

I opened my mouth and then closed it, looking like a goldfish that didn’t know what to say. “Well, yeah, but couldn’t you at least try to tell me?”

Carter’s smile grew larger as he pulled me until our bodies were flush, like I both wanted and didn’t want at the same time.

As expected, my knees buckled and his fingers tightened around my upper arms. “Why don’t I just show you?” he asked, lightly knocking my chin with his finger so I could stare directly into his eyes before he bent and captured my lips with his.

The way his lips felt against mine was both familiar and new, and I pressed myself into him, hard, finally letting myself wrap my arms around his neck as his arms encircled my waist.

“Carter—“ I whispered against his lips, the way he was making me feel rendering me breathless, “it’s not hard to tell me you love me. You don’t even have to . . . to be so articulate. A simple ‘I love you’ will suffice.”

“Geez, woman,” he laughed, pulling his lips away for a fraction of a second before leaning close again, “can’t you just let me kiss you for a while? I missed this, I missed you.”

I smiled against his kiss and said, just to spite him, “You just told me you missed me. Telling me you love me won’t be that hard either.”

His laugh deepened and he didn’t bother to reply until I pulled my lips away from his reluctantly. “Fine,” he pouted, letting his lips brush over mine as he whispered, word by word, enunciating each and every one so I got the message, “I . . . love . . . you.”

I grinned now and pulled him even closer to me. “Now that you’ve told me,” I paused, “show me.”

“Well, I think we’re going to have to book a room here . . .”

“—Carter!” I gasped, still laughing as he kissed my neck, alternating between feather-light and open mouthed, “You really think so? A hotel room?”

“I’ll put it on Brian’s tab.” He winked at me before grabbing my hand and heading towards the front desk.

“Wait,” I suddenly said. “To save you money, why don’t we head back to Patricia’s? I have our room all to myself now that she and Brian are going to be on their honeymoon.”

“Think they’ll miss us?”

“Nah. At least, I hope not. Once I tell her I was with you, she’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

“You’re so different now,” he noticed. “Now you’re the one who’s glowing. Is that because of me?”

I blushed, almost immediately. “Uhm—yes, I think it is.” I took one look at his smiling eyes and upturned lips and blurted, “I love you.”

His eyes met mine again. “You know I love you too . . . but why don’t I just show you?”

My eyes sparkled as he pulled me closer again, relishing the way his body fit perfectly against mine. “Be my guest.”

notes. yeah, i haven't updated this in a while, but, well, i write Because, Sometimes when i have an idea, and Malina and Carter came into my head after reading about weddings and old flames that were never really extinguished. i'd love to know what you think!

love,
-toffeecakesxox.

material (c) to toffeecakesxox. 2009.