Here - Chapter 21
Saturday, 20-May-00 01:21:36

152.163.206.191 writes:
Sorry for taking so long. It's been quite a hectic time for me this last month! Thanks so much for being patient with me!:)

Anita:)
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Here - Chapter 21

Carly wakes with a start. She is in Sonny's bed.

Again.

She finds herself smiling through her grimace.

And she's alone.

Again.

She slowly rolls on to her back with a lazy groan and rubs her eyes tiredly. She supposes she never managed the all-nighter she told Sonny she was going for.

All-nighter???!! Carly sits up shock-straight, runs a hand through her hair, and notes the bright daylight streaming through the window with a sense of foreboding.

Quickly, she jumps from the bed and looks over at the clock on the nightstand. Her eyes widen when she sees the time. "8:50!!!!!" she gasps out loud. She only has a little over half an hour to get to her first class - her first legitimate class as Caroline Benson.

Her body is so anxious and intent on moving that it can not. She is stuck in place for a few seconds, her mind trying to list the things she has to do to get to class.

Throw on clothes. Her body finally listening to her mind and coming alive, she does this with skill and aplomb, used to having to rush to get dressed and out of someone's bed.

Wash face. She runs to the bathroom and splashes cold water over her face, making her Luke's T-shirt wet at the same time. Then she grabs a towel and dries herself.

Brush hair. She looks in the mounted mirror at her disheveled hair. She has no time to do anything noteworthy with it, so she combs her fingers through her hair one time, pulls it into a ponytail, and decides she looks fashionably messy.

Brush teeth. She reaches for her toothbrush, globs on the toothpaste, and vigorously, torturously cleans her teeth, giving only the slightest attention to the bizarre fact that she actually has a toothbrush in Sonny Corinthos's bathroom.

Furious at being late, she shoves the toothbrush back into the holder. "Thanks for nothing, Corinthos," she mutters, irrationally blaming Sonny for her tardiness. Deep down, she knows that Sonny did not owe her a wake-up call, that she is ultimately responsible, but it is a lot easier to be angry at Sonny.

Especially when he's not here looking at me with those eyes of his.

She dashes down the steps, calling out in an anxious, irate tone, ready to bite someone's head off, "Sonny???"

No response.

She rushes to the door, only stopping to grab her jacket and purse before she runs smack into Francis, who is stationed at the front door.

He is surprised by her harried state and widens his eyes a bit before nodding to her politely. "Good morning."

"Yeah, yeah..." Carly mutters under her breath, shrugging into her jacket and searching the hallway. She looks at the bodyguard accusingly, "Where's your boss?"

Francis's face closes up, "Out."

Carly rolls her eyes, "Out?? Fine." She turns to leave, then momentarily thinks about asking Francis if he could give her a ride to campus. She decides against it and heads to the elevator.

*****

"I want you to drop Coroza, Benny," Sonny says softly, his eyes following a young couple as they stroll down the sidewalk in front of him. The vapors from a hot cup of coffee on the small wrought-iron table fill his nostrils.

Benny blinks, then replies with hesitation, "A-are you sure?"

After a purposeful sigh, Sonny looks around the outdoor cafe. It is late enough that the pre-work crowd has already had their coffee and left. The people who remain appear to be students and/or retirees. Sonny turns his eyes back to Benny, rubbing his thumb over his lip. His voice is soft, yet commanding, "What did I just say?"

Benny takes a deep breath, "They're okay, Sonny."

Sonny takes a sip of his coffee. Then, studying his business manager intently, he voices his thoughts, "I don't like anyone bad-mouthing me and then using my network, Benny."

Benny nods, then purses his lips, "How do you want to handle it?"

Sonny shrugs, "Just tell them that we no longer require their business."

"Just like that...?"

"Just like that," Sonny repeats, becoming frustrated by Benny's demeanor.

Benny remains unconvinced that dropping a major 'client' is a good idea.

Sonny explains, "We'll more than make up the money with the Pfizer deal." He sits back, looking away from his longtime associate, "Besides, I have to send a message, Benny. I have to deal from a position of strength. I don't need people spreading rumors about my mental health, openly wishing for Jason to come back and take over." He pauses for a beat, then says with finality, "Because that's not going to happen, Benny. Jason is out of the picture. The sooner people accept that the better..."

Benny studies Sonny for a moment, wondering just what 'people' Sonny means. For no concrete reason, Benny's mind flashes back to Carly. He does not know why, but he hears himself say cautiously, "You mean you want Carly to accept that Jason's gone?"

Sonny narrows his eyes at Benny, startled by the man's frank reference to Sonny's personal life. Did I mean Carly?? Sonny asks himself, or did I mean me??

Benny stands, sensing it would be better to leave Sonny - and the subject of Carly - alone. He looks at Sonny, meeting his boss's eyes, and says plainly, "I'll take care of Coroza."

Sonny nods, and Benny walks away.

Sonny stays where he is, composing himself and trying to anchor his thoughts.

He sniffs and frowns, his head tilting to the side. He thinks of Carly, how he left her that morning, how her mouth was hanging open and her pillow was wet with drool. He thinks of how her hair was splayed carelessly on his shoulder as she wound her nude body around his in her sleep.

He thinks of how strange, yet wonderful, it is to have someone in his life who seems to actually get him.

He checks his watch, sees that it is almost 9:30. Disappointed, he realizes that Carly is not still waiting in his bed, asleep, that she has most likely already left for her class.

After a sigh, he finally gets up from the small table and leaves for home.

Maybe he will still be able to smell her.

*****

Miraculously, by the time Carly reaches the correct building, she is only a few minutes late. She finds Room 100 in the newly-built and newly-dedicated Quartermaine Business Management Building, Ugh..., then takes a few seconds to catch her breath.

Finally, she takes a cleansing breath to ease her raw nerves and pushes down the handle of one of the double metal doors.

The handle goes down, but the door will not budge.

She looks up at the room number again to make sure she is in the right place. Convinced that this is, indeed, the location of her Accounting 101 class, she uses all of her strength and throws herself at the closed door.

This time it moves.

With a loud, painful, high-pitched scraping sound, the door groans open as if of its own volition. The momentum of its moving weight carries her, tripping over her own feet to keep up, across the threshold and into the classroom.

Carly's eyes widen when she enters. What she sees is more like a small amphitheatre than the desk-filled room she had expected. The room is filled with three sections of at least 30 rows of tiered seats with attached desks. She is standing at the rear of the room, behind the top row.

She believes there are at least 200 students present. And 402 eyes - counting the older man in the front of the room, standing with his back toward the blackboard - are turned toward the sudden noise, toward the intrusion.

Toward her.

Suddenly, her insides feel as if they are being churned up in a blender. Everyone is watching her; ever since Ferncliff, the one thing in the world that she abhors.

Eyes. Accusing, castigating, moralizing, doubting, questioning.

She feels the familiar sensation of a panic attack coming on. Her heart is pounding hard, loud, and fast against her chest, her breathing is shallow, her vision is blurring. She feels light-headed, woozy, as if she will not be able to stand on her own two feet for much longer. She squeezes her hand around her purse so tightly that her knuckles turn white and her fingertips go numb.

If she'd been making a fist, she is certain she would have drawn blood.

Slowly, surely, just as she had her first time behind the wheel of a car, she takes a minute to talk herself down. Okay. I'm not in Ferncliff. These people don't know me. These people don't hate me. They're just looking at me because I'm late and I made a lot of noise. Get a grip, Carly.

After the pregnant pause, she manages a sheepish face at the unnatural silence and proceeds slowly into the quieted auditorium, every face watching her progress.

Naturally, the only seats available are in the front of the room.

This is a nightmare!!!

She walks down the surprisingly steep steps of the aisle and finally gets to the second row. She squeaks an embarrassed "Um, excuse me..." to the three people between herself and the empty seat she is aiming for. They all have to move their books, fold down their desks, and stand so that she make her way to her seat.

"Thanks," she sighs, sinking into the small chair.

The professor stares at her hard with sharp blue eyes, then pointedly taps on his wristwatch with a bony finger before turning his attention back to the black slate in front of him.

On the board is written the name of the professor (Dr. Andrew McGee), and the name of the class (ACCT 101 - Fundamentals of Accounting).

Carly lifts a brow, At least I haven't missed much...

Dr. McGee walks to a small table and lifts a piece of paper from a stack of papers. He clears his throat and speaks in a much deeper voice than it seems his slim body could possibly contain, "As you can see by your syllabus, this class will have a heavy workload. We will be covering a lot of material. So it will be imperative that you attend each and every class, and complete every assignment handed to you."

There is a rustle of papers around her and Carly straightens in her seat. Everyone in the room appears to have a copy of the syllabus. She tries to sneak a peek at her neighbor's copy, but the young man purposely shifts away from her.

She feels like the plague.

She raises her hand meekly, trying to get the professor's attention.

"Yes?" he bellows, looking at her over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses.

She gestures with a hand and hears her voice squeaking nervously again. "I don't have a copy of the..." her voice trails off as he steps toward her and thrusts the paper he is holding at her without a word. He walks away from her before she can bother with a 'thank you.'

The professor continues as if uninterrupted, "There is an error on the syllabus. Test number 2, the midterm, will be replaced by a group research project."

As if on cue, papers rustle again and the sound of scribbling fills the air. With a sick feeling in her stomach, Carly closes her eyes and the image of her bag of notebook and pens sitting on the table at Sonny's penthouse comes into view.

I can't believe this!

She grabs her purse from the floor and does a frantic, futile search for a writing implement.

How could I not have a pen?? A pencil?? A crayon?? Lipstick even??

Placing her face in her hands, she feels like giving up, like bursting into tears.

Then the door's deafening groan echoes through the room again and Carly feels a small stream of relief.

At least I'm not the latest one...

The professor once again stops what he is doing and looks up at the door expectantly.

The low murmurs drift through the auditorium like a wave, starting from the back of the room, then floating, row by row, until the din takes the form of words in Carly's ear.

She hears the whispered question behind her left shoulder, "Isn't that Sonny Corinthos??"

Instantly, Carly's eyes are wide and she whips her head around to look back up at the door.

There, at the top of the steps, stands Sonny, only a touch uncomfortable at the attention he is generating.

He glances around the crowded room, searching. Then, unable to find her, he clears his throat, "Excuse me...I'm looking for Caroline Benson...?"

Carly buries her face in a hand and shrinks into her seat. This can not be happening to me... She slides herself even lower and looks straight ahead, hoping against hope that Sonny will disappear.

Sonny spots the back of Carly's head and recognizes her immediately, "Carly?"

She closes her eyes as if in pain, then, resigned, slowly turns to look over her shoulder and meets his gaze. She lets out a breath, folds down her desk, mutters an apology as she displaces her row-mates once more, and jogs up the steps two at a time. She gives Sonny a hard glare and hisses quietly, "What do you want?"

He holds up a hand, from which dangles her bag of supplies, ignoring her attitude, "I found this stuff at my apartment. I thought you might need it...."

She snatches the plastic bag from his hand and takes a nervous look back at the room. Any eyes she meets quickly turn away.

"A thank you would be nice," Sonny says in a low voice, flashing his dimples at her obvious anxiety.

She tosses him a furious grin and whispers, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says in a pleasant voice, the smile still on his face. His eyes wander around the large, hushed room briefly. Then, suddenly, he leans forward and kisses her cheek warmly.

Publicly claiming her with a soft touch of his lips.

She closes her eyes, feeling the breath leave her body at his unexpected affection. When she opens her eyes again and focusses on Sonny's face, she sees that he is not even looking at her. Instead, his eyes are on the room behind her, daring someone, anyone, to make a snide comment.

This is when she realizes that the kiss was not to reassure her, but was a show for the people in the room watching while pretending not to.

Humiliated, she almost snaps at him, but decides instead to restrain herself and return to her seat.

She turns away, her face flushed, and hears the door groan and slam behind her at Sonny's exit.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the furtively admiring glances of the young women -- and the nearly frightened glances of the young men -- as she makes her way back down the steps to her seat.

She does not even need to say 'excuse me' before everyone in her row pops out of their chairs and steps aside for her.

Even if that little kiss from Sonny wasn't meant for her, Carly can not help the smug hint of a smirk the result brings to her lips.

*****

He is grinning from ear-to-ear when he opens the door for her. "So, you survived."

She walks by him into the penthouse and hits him in his chest with a notebook, "No thanks to you!"

"What?" he laughs, feigning confusion. He follows her to the couch, sits next to her - very close - tilts his head and rests his cheek on a fist. He is still smiling, but his soft voice betrays that his words are more question than jibe, "I thought I did you a favor...?"

She purses her lips, eyes him hotly, then reluctantly sinks back into the sofa. "You did..." she admits.

His smile fades, but the edges of his lips remain turned slightly upward, a countenance of faux-innocence, "Did I embarrass you today or something?"

She rolls her eyes, shakes her head, then throws her head back in incredulous laughter, "Did you embarrass me?? I'd say having the entire world know that I am," she hesitates, "um, associating with the town crime boss could be kind of embarrassing..."

He shrugs, "That's all just rumor. I'm a hardworking businessman."

She laughs again, "Right...what is it? Um, coffee?"

His levity dissipates quickly and he answers, "That's right. Coffee." He stands up and walks to his desk. He clears his throat, distancing himself, "So, what are you doing here, Carly?"

I have no idea... she thinks. But she knows she can not say that, so she makes something up, "I thought I left something here this morning..."

His eyes slide to her, "What?"

"My sunglasses," she lies. "I looked through my purse and I couldn't find them. I thought maybe I left them here..."

He frowns, holding her eyes with his own, "Haven't seen them..." He knows she is lying, but adds, "I'll keep my eye out for them."

She stands up then, feeling dismissed, "Yeah...okay. Thanks."

He nods in response.

As she walks past him to the front door, he stops her with a gentle hand on her arm. She turns to look at him, defiance in her eyes. But when she meets his gaze, she is surprised by the bare truth and need there.

He knows why he has stopped her from leaving, and he knows what he wants to say. He just stuns himself by saying it out loud. His voice is quiet, laced with the slightest touch of apprehension, "You know, you don't have to have a reason to come over here..."

She bites her lip, as if not quite understanding. But, of course, she understands perfectly. She leaves herself unguarded too and says, "I don't?"

He shakes his head.

Uncomfortable, she tries to make light of this - this - whatever it is that is happening between them. She lifts a brow, "So, I can just show up anytime I want?"

He looks at her pointedly, "You do that anyway. But that's not what I said."

She folds her arms over her chest, defensive again.

"I said you don't have to have a reason to see me, to come over here."

She pouts, "Sunglasses didn't fly?"

He shakes his head slowly, a smile growing on his lips, "Carly. Please."

She swallows hard, suddenly nervous. Then she retorts, "Well, you don't need a reason to see me either..."

He searches her eyes, his voice approaching ragged, "I know that."

Her breathing starts to quicken and her heart flutters. She feels herself moving toward him, lifting her face to his, softly placing her lips on his mouth.

At first, he has no idea what she is doing, but when her intent becomes clear, he meets her mouth halfway and returns the light pressure with his own. She starts to back away from the butterfly kiss, but he follows her, his lips lingering on hers, not allowing her to break contact.

After the kiss, she bites her lip, her eyes still closed, "What about tonight?"

Noting her haphazard ponytail, he absently moves some strands of hair behind her ear, "Are you working?"

She nods.

"Closing?" he asks, preoccupied with the feel of her skin under his fingertips.

She nods, her eyes still closed, enjoying his warm touch as he smooths her hair. Then his hands slide along her jawline to the sides of her neck, then back to her face.

She sighs and says in a sleepy voice, "But I could probably get out of it...I have pull with the management...I am management now."

He studies her face, finding her oddly, unexpectedly, extraordinarily pretty. He murmurs, "Doesn't matter to me. I can send someone to pick you up anytime."

Feeling an unfamiliar tingle in her chest at his words, she wonders, Is he saying it doesn't matter because he wants to see me no matter what time it is? Or is he saying it just really doesn't matter?

She opens her eyes and is startled to find him looking directly at her. He seems taken aback by the sudden eye contact also, and pulls his hands away.

The danger signs are all there for Sonny. He knows in his head that Carly is trouble. Common sense and experience should tell him that she could spell big trouble for him.

But in his heart, he does not believe that. Not at all.

He decides to take the plunge, "So you want to keep going with this?"

She watches his face for some hint of sarcasm or nastiness, but she finds none. She asks, knowing the answer already, "With what?"

He gestures between the two of them, "This."

"Do you?" is her immediate, insecure response.

He smiles, shakes his head, and points at her, "I asked you first."

What is this? High school?? What should I say??? What am I doing?? Do I want to keep going? What will happen next? Whatever it is, will I be able to handle it?? Carly's mind is consumed with questions.

But, if she simply goes with what she feels right now, right here, ignoring all of the uncertainties, all of the questions and doubts, only one answer seems clear.

She says softly, forcefully, with more conviction than she can ever remember having, "Yes."