Her Wicked Ways [3xR - Rated R] 10

[Andrea]

<b>Her Wicked Ways</B>
By Andrea Sinisterra
Rated M
Romance / Humor
<i>Standard Disclaimers Apply</i>

<b>Author's Note:</b> Thank you for sticking around and waiting for me to get back on track. I love you all so dearly for your continued support.
Here's the next installment. I want to finish <i>Her Wicked Ways</i> this year; I don't think there should be many chapters remaining? perhaps just two more and that should be it. Also, I've reread the whole thing and there are so many errors, they should be called horrors. If I get around to it, I want to tackle this thing again and edit and rewrite and repost it? Plans, plans, plans? Anyway, hope you like this chappie, I had tons of fun writing it. I did cackle evilly on a part or two? Don't forget to review!

<b>Warnings:</b> Not proofread.
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<b>Chapter 10</b>

So.

So? I've been wishing lately that I'd read all those romance novels Hilde used to send me when we were in university, so that I would know how to proceed if I ever found myself stuck in a weird, I-love-you-I-hate-you m?nage trois.

It's like a weird triangle with odd angles, which suddenly shifts into a square. Girl A likes Guy A and Guy B. Guy A wants Girl A just for sex, while Guy B's intentions are still dubious. Guy A hates Guy B, but Girl A's been spending too much time with Guy B, so Guy A hates Girl A's guts. Secretly, though, Guy A loves Girl A. Enter Girl B. Guy A's using Girl B to get back at Girl A. Girl A is using Guy B to get back at Guy A, but Guy B doesn't seem to mind much, while Girl B is... well, oblivious. Point is that Guy A is an ass.

I don't know? I was never good at geometry.

Blissful ignorance, I always say, is a way of life not all of us have the pleasure to experience. Spending time with Quatre Winner was a game I was not sure I was up to playing. Nights at the opera, extravagant dinners and concert tickets. NFL VIP seats, fundraisers, state luncheons and golf meets? all in all, I was enjoying the lifestyle I've shunned out for years. And why wouldn't I? I had never enjoyed myself more in these past weeks with Quatre, than I have in the company of any other man. He was the perfect gentleman, the perfect dinner partner, the perfect escort? he was the perfect friend.

I would have loved to say a perfect roll in the hay, too, but that was too dangerous a territory. Lately, his advances had been all the more intimate and familiar: sitting silent in the movie theatre while he plays with my hair; his hand on my knee as we have lunch together in the middle of the day; cozy in the back of his limo on the days he comes to pick me up after work?Then there are the times when he takes me out to dinner. Nothing fancy nor particularly romantic, but it's always an experience of subtle intimacy. His looks ardent, his voice breathy, his words passionate, his touch familiar. Quatre Raberba Winner is a lady killer and he knows and enjoys it.

Sometimes I find it easy to laugh; he's sexy and charming, the ultimate alpha male through and through. Yet there are times when I have to make myself smile at his quips and flattery, feeling trapped, as if l were longing for something more. Missing someone else. I am a masochist of the highest caliber, playing with fire in a cotton dress.

My mother? my dearest mother, who, to this day in time, still does not understand she has her own life to live, calls me daily, several times a day, or just shows up at my apartment whenever the mood strikes her. It's like she has a matchmaking license to kill. My wallet is overflowing with cards of eligible, high-crust bachelors my mother has introduced me to in the past couple of weeks.

<i>Just in case there's a fallout with that dear man, Mr. Winner. You must understand, Relena, you're not the most reliable person when it comes to relationships. A little boost never hurts!</i>

My mother has completely forgotten all about Trowa Barton. It's like she deleted the tape as soon as the breakup spilled to the media. Her eyes have dollar signs in them; Quatre has completely eradicated Trowa from her mind with his words, charm and pedigree.

I don't know why I would mind; Quatre is a much better catch than Trowa. He treats me with respect and he seems to genuinely care for me. I have never felt like this before: seemingly becoming the world to someone else. He hasn't said anything, but his eyes and the way he treats me say more than a thousand words ever would. He's caring and attentive. He has a curious habit of always knowing what I want or what I am going to say. In the past few months, Quatre Winner has sneakily crawled under my skin, and I don't know how I should feel about it.

He's Prince Charming, and I am the unwilling damsel in distress.

Then why am I not happy?

Stupid, arrogant, son of a bitch. I still can't seem to get rid of the picture of Stupid Krista hanging like a fucking perch on Trowa's arm. Everything always revolves around that wretched man. It turned out to be harder than I thought, seeing Trowa at work after his confession that fateful night months ago. Watching him traipsing around town with Stupid Krista Mackenzie; the rumor mill already running wild with talks of wedding plans and whatnot was even worse.

I was a coward.

I had a small hunch that all this flirting he had going on with Krista was just a ruse. I want to believe that he's doing all this to get back at me, but I'm too proud to say or do anything about it. Trowa treats me with malice, taunting me and criticizing me any chance he gets. He calls me a bitch and a man-eater, I tell him he just wants women to drop to their knees and open their mouths. He tells me to go to hell, I tell him to fuck off.

However? sometimes when it's just the two of us left at the office, the hour growing late and we coincide in the break-room, he hesitates to come in, or I start thinking that if I leave, it would appear as if I were running off. Sometimes he comes near me as I'm making myself a cup of coffee, his shirt sleeve grazing my arm, and I feel the tremors shoot up my spine and settle in my bones like an old memory. Sometimes his breath quickens, sometimes his hands shake. Sometimes I can't breathe. But every time he turns to look at me?his eyes a bright, bright green?his mouth softening, and I'm yearning and dying inside, it seems the whole world has stopped and its sole focus is the feverish heat of his skin sinking and fusing with mine.

Then we start breathing and go our separate ways.

<i>"I'm a bad person,"</i> I said to my therapist two days ago. <i>"Look at me! Stringing along a wonderful man who-who? and Trowa! Why do I still want him?"

"Communication is the key foundation to every relationship, Relena."</i>

Why, indeed. Talk to Quatre and tell him? what? Besides, I've been hiding from him for the past couple of days. I don't even know what I want. I'm attracted to him, yes. Why wouldn't I?

Or talk to Trowa. What would I tell <i>him</i>? We said everything we needed to say. Or more like he said everything he needed to say while I just listened. Maybe I could just? be childish and not talk to either of them ever again?very immature of me, sure, but excellent conciliatory solution for the salvation and upkeep of my sanity. I mean, my life was much better before this whole mess started. A little empty, but safe.

Too late I realize that I've spent the past two days moping, not really doing anything to make my life less miserable and more like I really do have a purpose.

My phone rings, and rings and rings. Seventh missed call from Quatre. The wonders of caller ID and my highly successful screening capacity.

Don't get me wrong, we had fun; he's always been charming and gallant and intelligent, but the guilt at using him has gone from low simmering to an overlapping boil since that night, after sealing the contract with Winchester Corporation. I suppose it's never too late for a bitch to grow some conscience. And while growing that conscience, apparently, I've also developed a heart.

________________________________________

Hilde was dressed in rich corduroy made of deep violet velvet. The little number was strapless and reached to mid thigh. On top, a short, black cardigan to balance the outfit. Sexy, nude multi-wrap crop boots finished her ensemble. She looked hot and chic and ready to party. I, on the other hand, with my trashy, neon pink sweatpants with a suspicious hole somewhere on my ass, a NYU t-shirt that had seen better days and a knot of hair beyond any hope of untangling, looked more like I was embarking on a housekeeping weekend spree.

Would you accuse me of being rude if I felt a little on the defensive when I get a critical perusal from head to toe from my stunning best
friend? "What the hell do you want?"

She looked me up and down <i>again</i>, a critical analysis. "What the hell happened to you?"

Bruised and offended, but more at being disrupted than insulted, I crossed my arms over my chest, shrugging my shoulders at her. "What the hell happened to <i>you</i>? And where the hell are you going?"

"What the hell do you mean, where the hell I'm going? Hell!" She laughed and pushed me inside, kicking my apartment door shut with her boot. "I've been trying to reach you for days! It's Duo's birthday and we're having a huge party at Chloe! I've left thousands of messages on your voicemail, sent you millions of emails each and everyone falling short on being death threats and nothing from you!"

Some time later, as I was finishing up the last touches to my make-up, donned in my get-well-soon Christian Louboutin turquoise peep-toe pumps and a mouthwatering one-shouldered indigo Chanel silk dress sent to my attention by none other than Karl Lagerfeld himself (yes, I did giggle when I got it), I realized that I'd been acting like a complete sissy, making half-assed attempts in avoiding Trowa when all I really wanted was to pound Krista a pretty shiner and hijack the bastard and ride him into kingdom come.

And yes, pun totally intended.

God, how do women deal with this kind of shit?

An hour later, I found myself downing my third Grey Goose on the rocks, sitting primly and staring at the glass wall behind the bar like the sweet little loser I was.

Another hour and I could barely even figure out if my nail polish was pink or red. Man, was I wasted. I'd spent the last one-hundred-and-thirty-something minutes staring at myself in the sparkling mirror, and at Krista making a fool of herself, trying to super-glue herself to an obviously distracted Trowa, somewhere in the vicinity behind me.

My skin crawled with self-awareness, prickling all over with hyper sensitive goosebumps and a rush of something delicious between my legs as his gaze insistently kept searching mine through the mirror. Asking me. Inviting. Sinfully, deliciously dangerous.

And I was a James Bond to danger. The slut in me relished. Ate up the attention.

Another glass of vodka landed before me on the counter, the abrupt desire to be completely and utterly sober hitting me with the force of the realization at what I had already subconsciously decided to do. My ass was off the chair and I was already halfway across the VIP section, before my brain even decided to take action.

I was on autopilot.

I was a whore.

And I wanted him with the very last fiber of my being.

To hell with this. I was tired of wanting and hiding and pretending. I was sick of being me, of cheating and lying and feeling guilty and doing absolutely nothing about it.

Alerts buzzing in the back of my head, I knew I wanted to worry about hurting Quatre. I knew?even as I was only a couple of feet from my breakdown?that things would never be the same again. I would never be the same. It didn't matter if Trowa rejected me?and I wouldn't be surprised if he did?I knew I would never love Quatre as I would Trowa. That no man, no matter how many years from now, would ever make me feel this crazy, desperate and eager as I do for Trowa.

I was absolutely, one-hundred percent tired of living my life. I was absolutely, one-hundred percent jealous of Krista and I was going to do something about it.

And so I walked up to Trowa and I lived and died in the surprise that flickered across his face. He was sitting on a high stool that brought him level to my height?his chest was hot as burning coals against my breasts, his hair wild and soft on my hands, and Krista's gasp of outrage a complete turn-on that made me smile even as I sealed his lips to mine. Breathing was difficult, and I melted into him, and though his arms didn't come up to hold me, I could still feel that hot brand of his erection against my thigh. I settled my weight into him, my thighs pressing into the cradle of his hips, and on his gasp of erotic shock, I touched his tongue with mine. To me, it all seemed hours upon hours as I kissed him. Licking at his mouth, luscious strokes; his mouth slack and soft under mine. Velvet. His tongue like smoldering velvet, his breath hot and rushed as it hit my cheeks. Oh god, I could kiss him forever. It felt like forever.

I ventured my eyes open, and I was struck stupid when I met the vivid green envy of his stare and the confusion and surprise that still lingered in its depth. I was the intrepid, secretly scared-shitless schoolgirl all over again; suddenly unsure in the onslaught of my desire. And it was with a final peck on the corner of his soft mouth that I pulled back, a sudden silence, long and overbearing in the wake of our?my??passion. Dimly, I wondered why Krista had not said anything to stop us. I wondered why Hilde kept silent. I wondered why Trowa kept staring at me as if I'd grown several additional heads. I wondered if my heart was suddenly going to go skipping away like rocks on a pond, with how fast it was beating. Sweat lingered in my hands and armpits, and I was nervous with the knowledge that I was going to be rejected.

It was written plainly on his face, while the bass pounded like a second heartbeat.

Shit you not, I really was another person. I had become a stranger stuck in this old skin. I was disgusted at myself, hatred and revulsion at this new me and her audacious guts to even dare to cry. Oh, yes. Struck stupid once again, I was now the high-school geek at her prom dance, the everlasting wallflower pining for the ever-popular Prom King. And like the disgusting coward I had become, I turned around and fled with the proverbial tail between my legs.

Man? was I ever drunk.

The swirling void in my stomach had me rushing to the restroom as if the very hounds of death were behind me. I heard Krista screaming something or the other, her voice so shrill it could even be heard over the music and overall chaos. I wish I hadn't turned around just then, but then again, I've been wishing for many, many things lately. Too many things without giving anything in return. Reason why I wasn't surprise to see karma slap me in the face in the form of Trowa gathering Krista in a tender embrace, consoling her as she cried on his shoulder.

Tears burned in my throat and my eyes hurt and stung?he looked at me for a moment over Krista's shoulder, his eyes somber before hiding his face in her neck and hair.

In my rush to escape or hide or simply <i>die</i>, I bumped into a waiter carrying a tray with drinks. My complete humiliation was already a fait accompli before the colorful drinks splashed onto my dress and shoes. Now? it was brutal annihilation. I was massacred in the middle of New York's most elite club, in front of society's cr?me de la cr?me, all while the waiter, bless his soul, dabbed at my clothes and apologized and begged for forgiveness. All while people whispered and smiled and laughed. All while I stood there like some stupid fool, doing nothing, hiding nothing.

My eyes stung and my jaw ached, but through the humiliation and embarrassment and heartache, I laughed. A heart-wrenching, earth-stopping, one-of-a-kind kind of laugh. I felt sorry for myself. I laughed and laughed and cried and then laughed some more, laughed so hard people started laughing along with me, as if my humiliation was the most amusing, entertaining thing they had ever witnessed. And maybe it was. If someone had told me one year ago I would find myself in this state, in this particular scenario, I would have told them to fuck off. Never would I have allowed myself to be <i>this</i> pathetic.

A hand on my arm snapped me out of my self-pity. "What the fuck is <i>wrong</i> with you?" But Hilde was already dragging me away, breaking through the semi-circle of onlookers, to the less populated area of the ladies' room. The place was blissfully empty, and Hilde wasted no time in locking us in.

"You're pathetic, Relena!"

A glass was shoved into my hands and the hard, cold vodka was ambrosia. I downed it in a single gulp. "Oh, fuck, fuck, <i>fuck</i>!" I dragged myself to the sink, splashing cold water on my face, trying to bring myself out of the stupor. I kissed Trowa in front of a multitude and got rejected. I wanted to feel consoled with the fact that he didn't push me away while I kissed him, even if he never responded to it in the first place. Yeah? Still. Rejected. In front of everyone. "Oh, my god."

More cold water. I felt like I had just lost some part of myself, the sort of feeling you get when somebody you love dies. Empty, aching, desolate. I wanted to cry.

"You look like death rolled over."

"<i>Thank you</i>, Hilde. I <i>really</i> needed that pep talk."

Hilde handed me a fresh face towel, and I dried myself and tried my best to fix what was left of my make-up. I needed to bring myself back up to shape. It was dreadful? all of it. If I really focused, I almost looked like a drowned clown.

There was a single, hard knock on the door and I was about to ask for a minute of privacy when Trowa's voice rang through. "Relena, open up." God, his voice. He sounded angry. He chose Krista. He really chose Krista.

"I'm fucking tired of this fucking drama. This ends tonight." And before I could say anything, Hilde marched like a good little soldier, flung the door wide open and gave him the finger. "Leave her the fuck alone, you understand?"

"Hilde?" But it's nearly impossible trying to reason with a German when she's in a temper. Take my word on it.

"No, Relena. I'm tired of this drama! You haven't been yourself since this ass?Hey!"

Trowa unceremoniously pushed her aside, and his imposing presence seemed to shrink the already small room to an asphyxiating size. I took a few steps back, somehow feeling like a cornered animal, and dimly I thought that maybe I was still reeling from before, because the old me would never let some guy corner me. Oh, yes. I was definitely not in control. Then again, neither was Trowa just <i>some guy</i>. Fucking asshole.

I ought to hate him. Give me a day or two.

"Trowa, please. Leave." I said in the hardest, toughest voice I could muster, somehow though, I still sounded like a fucking sissy. "I want you out of my life. I don't want to see you ever again." <i>I want you to die. I want to murder my father, slowly and painfully. But most of all, I want to forget you ever existed.</i>

"We work in the same firm."

Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious. "Don't be an asshole." I love you.

Hilde walked around, putting her imposing five-foot-one-inch body between Trowa and me, a little human barricade that had me smiling despite the circumstances. "You rejected her in front of half of Manhattan out there. You've done enough harm to last us a lifetime. Why don't you get the hell out of here and take your fucking lap dog with you and just <i>die</i>?"

Frowning, Trowa's head tilted to one side, as if trying to figure if the woman standing before him was real or just a comical figment of his imagination. Oh, goodness? I was unbinding slowly at the seams, unraveling and disarmed and so utterly drunk. I'd never thought I would love someone like this. In the past, it all had seemed so easy and impersonal. Take you pick of any random guy, fuck him and kiss him <i>hasta la vista</i>. Figured, the second I decided to fall for someone it would be with such an astounding depth of feeling?figured he wouldn't want me back.

I started laughing again. Suddenly feeling desperate and bordering on hysterical. "I'm sorry! This is just hilarious. I need to get out of here. I'm drunk and tired and my feet are killing me and I <i>really</i> don't want to deal with you right now." When Hilde made to follow, I put my hand up to stop her. "You stay. This is Duo's party and you need to be here for him. I'm taking a cab home."

Trowa, who hadn't said much since he stepped into the room, grabbed my arm as I went passed him, turning me around to face him at the same time Hilde started protesting about not wanting to stay and keeping me company.

In case I decided to kill myself? Not likely, but a bottle of tequila sounded wonderful.

"Relena. We need to talk. You took me by surprise and didn't even give me a chance to react!"

His eyes were so green. Pale, luminescent green. God, I loved him. This arrogant, egotistical and imperfect jerk. I wanted to punch him. Break something. "You're looking murderous right now, princess. If you want to hit me, please give me a head's up first, would you?"

"I'm going home." Tired and defeated, but most of all, drunk, I left, promising Hilde I would call her tomorrow, sometime after noon if and when I woke up from the awesome drink-fest I would be embarking on in a few minutes. Trowa followed me all the way outside, apologizing and explaining something or the other, but I really wasn't paying him much attention. My toes hurt. Really hurt. And I needed to start the mourning process for my dress. I wondered how furious my mother would be when she's seen my pictures on the papers tomorrow. Would she be furious, disgusted or simply mad? I could spend all of tomorrow watching Pill Bullman's movies. I did love Pill. Bill? Ah ha? Pullman. Oh, whatever.

"Are you even listening to me? You've been standing there staring at your feet for more than five minutes!"

I wiggled my toes. I needed that taxi to take me home, too, so I could start my date with Jose Cuervo. "My toes hurt and I'm dating Jose Cuervo."

"Jesus." Why do people resort to religion when?He spoke something to the driver and I saw them both nod. "Get in."

Oh, taxi. "Taxi. Taxi's are good. I need you to take me home, sir. Somewhere around Lexington Avenue. Hey! Get your own taxi, this one's mine!"

"Move over, damnit! This is <i>my</i> cab, but I'm feeling generous so I'm sharing it with you. So, shut up and deal. When did you get so drunk, anyway?"

"Why the hell do you care <i>anyway</i>? Aren't you worried Stupid Krista's going to leave with someone else?" Man? now that I'm finally sitting down, I was really starting to see the world spin around me. Sleepy, too.

"Didn't I tell you?" He said; his voice gruff but amused, a little faraway, too. His hand was suddenly on my knee closest to him, our thighs rubbing against each other and I suddenly realized how close together we were sitting from the other. "We broke up. This morning. After I told her I was in love with you."

The cabby was looking at us from the rearview mirror, and there was a suspicious slanting of his eyes, as if he were smiling. I promptly slapped Trowa's hand off my knee, feeling like a schoolgirl doing something improper. He talked too much. And he really had balls! Touching me like I was his property! I stifled a jaw-popping yawn, my eyes tearing up a bit. My date with JC was in jeopardy. I was faaaaalling asleep.

"Anyway," Trowa continued after I didn't reply; what was he saying, anyway? He really talked too much. I told him so, but he didn't seem to hear me. "I came over tonight because I knew you would be here. I wanted a last chance to explain things to you. And to tell you that I'm damned tired of playing these fucking games and that I'm jealous to my bones of Winner. I want you with me and I want to be with you, Relena. I know this?"

But I was already dozing off and didn't remember much.

________________________________________

The next moment I opened my eyes, the world was upside down. Literally. Only upside to this was the spectacular view of Trowa's lovely, sexy ass. Was that my carpet?

"There you go." He sounded entirely too upbeat about dumping me like a trash bag on my bed.

Off went my shoes and jewelry, landing haphazardly on the floor and bedside table. I then reached around my back to the zipper and hooks that held the dress together, but after fussing around it for a moment or two, I just gave up. Tomorrow I would worry and torture myself about my brazen and stupid behavior tonight, but right then, my major worry was about not sleeping in my Chanel dress (no matter if it was covered with a triple layer of Vodka and cranberry juice). "Help me out of this."

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes dancing between the bed under me and the door, as if visualizing how fast he could make it out of here if I suddenly decided to attack him. As if. "Please. I'm not going to jump you or anything, but I absolutely refuse to sleep in this dress." Kneeling on the bed, I turned around and showed him the two silver hooks at my nape and the broad zipper running all the way from the middle to my lower back. "I'm so tired."

"I bet." He said conversationally, "I got a client who believes someone's trying to buy them out by illegally acquiring stocks under several trust funds and societies, but all of them owned by the same corporation. A very lunatic conspiracy, might I add. Guy calls me every single day and night, with stories and theories of who these people might be. He believes this guy in his board of directors?"

He sounded so nervous. I was starting to get depressed, the more I heard him talk, the more I wanted to know about him and his life and his clients and everything else. I wanted it so badly I could almost taste it. I could also see him holding Krista just after I kissed him and he rejected me, burying his face in her neck and smelling her hair. "You can go now." I need him to leave. I needed him to leave me alone and give me time to put myself back together so I could face him again on Monday and have a slight chance of at least <i>pretending</i> to be over him and not make a further fool of myself.

I held my dress to my front and got off the bed, intending to show him to the door, but I never made it that far. In a single second, a small fraction of a second, his hand seized my neck at the same time my dress hit the floor. In another fraction, a minimal but very consequential fraction, his lips hit mine in a bruising kiss that had me reeling back from the pain of his teeth jabbing my lower lip. I would like to say I held my ground and showed absolute will power and real decorum by pushing him away and not letting him kiss me, but the real truth is that I was <i>dying</i> to drown in his kiss. He was brutal in his onslaught. Tender and passionate and so overwhelming I almost wept.

He tasted and drank and demanded more and more?more than I should give?his tongue riding an adventurous foray and mine meeting his in a guilty encounter. His arm was a band of steel around my waist, bending me backwards with the force of his kiss; the hand initially on my neck moving upwards to cradle the back of my head, sifting through my hair and making me tingle from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. God? I couldn't breathe. There was moaning and sighing and whispered words uttered, coaxing and begging and pleading. His, mine, ours. I wanted him so much?

"I can't. <i>We</i> can't. Stop, Relena. Stop!" <i>Why?</i>?was all that kept running through my head. Why did he torture me like this? Why did I let him? Why? Why? Why? "Christ? do you have any idea of how much I want you? I want to kiss you all over, touch you, taste you." His hands running up my sides, sliding the backs of his fingers lightly over my left breast and I arched my back wantonly, trying to press the aching tips into his hands.

What's going on? I didn't understand him. "I'm confused."

Trowa laughed and my toes curled at the sound. God, I had it bad. When did it get <i>this</i> bad, anyway? "You're drunk, Relena. Truly wasted. We should?"

"Oh, god! You-you turned me down in front of everyone! You let me make a fool of myself and <i>then</i> you made out with that stupid?"

"I don't want to fight. Get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."

"Do not <i>dare</i> to patronize me?"

Eyes crinkling with laughter and looking ten years younger, he went down on one knee in front of me and pressed his forehead and nose into my naked stomach, breathing and kissing, making skin tingle and my knees buckle. "I want to marry you. I want you for the rest of my life; just you and no one else. After we talk tomorrow and we've both said our pieces, you will marry me. As for now," kissing my hand, he got up and held me close. "Goodnight and sweet dreams. I'll come by bright and early."

His liquid kiss shattered my defenses, hard and abrupt as the sound of my apartment door closing behind him. I never would have guessed this night would end this way. I couldn't seem to erase the smile off my face, or simply forget his parting words. Dressed in just my underwear, I crawled into bed and under my covers, and closed my eyes refusing to think about anything but sleep?

Fucking asshole. Always with the last word.

________________________________________

<i>To be continued...</i>

[The Angry Angel]

...

To put it lightly:

What a fucking roller coaster! *applause* well done well done!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot--took you long enough! Oh my Gawd it was deliverance to see this baby posted. All of life's problems are suspended while this baby shines golden and bright! --Yes, it is that well received Would you like your very own parthenon, Goddess Andrea? ^^

Hoo rah!

[stormwind16]

more more more! Finally you continued!

[Andrea]

...

To put it lightly:

What a fucking roller coaster! *applause* well done well done!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot--took you long enough! Oh my Gawd it was deliverance to see this baby posted. All of life's problems are suspended while this baby shines golden and bright! --Yes, it is that well received Would you like your very own parthenon, Goddess Andrea? ^^

Hoo rah!

Oh yay! You rock my world, hun! Yes, yes yes! You know... I was actually a little hesitant to post this... I received some criticism on my writing style having had changed and being more cheesy and whatnot on a fic I wrote in February... and I don't know. I guess I was smarting about it, so it's kind of super awesome to get such enthusiasm and realize people are STILL reading my stuff. Oh yay!

Aaaanyway, chapter 10. Hahaha... so cool writing that, lemme tell ya! I wanted to take it further, but... yeah. Better to leave y'all hanging. Mwahaha--LOVE YOU, LUCE! MUAH MUAH MUAH!

...
more more more! Finally you continued!

And Stormwind! YAY! I promise I won't abandon this project. I'll have it finished, even if it's the last thing I do... which it won't... you know, be the last thing. Oh gosh, I miss BI, this place is so dead...

Anyway! Yes, thank you both for being so nice to me.

[stormwind16]

I know I miss it too! such a shame so many good stories without an ending

[DogDemonK9]

"Quatre Raberba Winner is a lady killer and he knows and enjoys it."
I love that line! I had the biggest smile on my face when I read this; so much so that my office mate thought my face might freeze up.

I have been waiting for this to update and let me tell you I was so not prepared for this wonderful chapter. I was giggling too much during my lunch break that I had to retire this until I was home, where I could read this chapter properly. But seriously, this was a great end, though I do feel terrible about Quatre?

And can I say I love Hilde in this chapter.

I'm seriously happy to hear that you are not planning on abandoning this story. It's my favourite non-HYxRP fic I've ever read.

[Andrea]

"Quatre Raberba Winner is a lady killer and he knows and enjoys it."
I love that line! I had the biggest smile on my face when I read this; so much so that my office mate thought my face might freeze up.

I have been waiting for this to update and let me tell you I was so not prepared for this wonderful chapter. I was giggling too much during my lunch break that I had to retire this until I was home, where I could read this chapter properly. But seriously, this was a great end, though I do feel terrible about Quatre?

And can I say I love Hilde in this chapter.

I'm seriously happy to hear that you are not planning on abandoning this story. It's my favourite non-HYxRP fic I've ever read.

And the best thing is that you review!!! Oh, I do love reviews! They're soooo awesome. Oh, yes.

Seriously, though... you prefer Quatre? Oh, please, share your thoughts. As for Hilde, she's the bomb. I was laughing my ass off picturing her giving Trowa the finger and telling to go fuck off and die.

I'm happy you enjoyed this chapter so much. I aim to please! ♥

[stormwind16]

I think she feels bad because he's the "nice" guy in this story. But Relena is just not the one for him I'm pretty sure he'll accept that

[The Angry Angel]

I neglected to offer any in-depth comments! If I may...

I for one think Quatre should get her on track record alone. What a catch! It may not be true, aching, agonizing love, or any white-hot chemistry, but it would be a good life! Pleasant. And he knows how Relena feels about Trowa, and bends over backwards for her anyway! Poor guy!

Granted it's turned out that Relena loves Trowa and he her, but Trowa's track record...well, he may love her, but is that enough to change his behavior for the better? Some men (ha! most!) just don't change. He may ditter and be petulant about being in love with Relena, and it may truly be love, but is he a good guy underneath all that? I feel like he would just give up on her and go about his business, getting his shallow love and satisfaction elsewhere. *obsessing*

Trowa just doesn't seem the "now that I've admitted it, and now that I've seen the light, I'm pulling a 180 in my ways, and will be your prince charming one-woman man for the rest of our lives" type dude. Hmmm. She didn't even say yes in her drunken and disheveled state! ((ha! who would?)...then again who _wouldn't_??)

So "hmmm" indeed. I'll wait to be surprised next chapter! Deal?

[stormwind16]

Hmm ,maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic then. Cause all I want to read is just what Angry Angel said about Trowa lolz

But I do see your point, and in real life I agree.......I really need to stop to read romance novels don't I?