Good isn't perfect [c.e] | 18+ a Chris Evans fanfic

8 | Laughter and Wine

Caroline Danielsen

"R-r-rerja-what now?" Rick looked at me and laughed. "What the fuck is that?"

"Hey! We don't say those words." I faked an angry face at him. "Okay, have you ever had diarrhoea? Like really bad diarrhoea?" He shook his head and his face got bright red. Liar. "Come on, don't lie to me, pretty face. It is totally normal to get diarrhoea occasionally."

"Fine. I have. But what about it?" I knew it. I always knew when someone was lying. I guess it was because I was a master at lying myself and if I had to guess it came from when the court moved me and my brothers to our dad when my parents got divorced. I had to lie when I met up with my mom without my dad knowing. I had always felt horrible for not telling him.

"So, rænnaræv, is like really bad diarrhoea, but then you have to multiply it by like a hundred-no with like thousands of times. I had it once after I ate like ten skoleboller. It was not good." I laughed.

Rick leaned forward and paused the movie. We weren't watching it anyway. He pulled me to his side and kissed the top of my head. "Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" My body froze, and the event started to play again in my head.

My breath quickened, and the pain was unbearable. It felt like I couldn't breathe. It had been a long time since I had a panic attack. Rick placed me in between his legs, face to face. "Breathe, Caroline, breathe."

"Can you do that for me? Can you breathe for me, sweetheart? In for four and out for four." His soft voice did nothing to calm me down. I gasped for breath, it didn't fill my lunges at all with oxygen.

"Breathe. You are going to be alright. Focus on my voice. Do you hear me?" I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. Before I knew it his lips were on mine. It made me think about the kiss instead of the memory. When he noticed that I was somewhat breathing normally again he pulled away.

"Yo-you kissed me." I was in complete shock.

"I did," He looked at me. "I read in a study on panic attacks, that sometimes it can be helpful for a person to have a thing to focus on, so when you couldn't focus on my voice, I kissed you."

"You did not" I giggled. "You took that from Teen Wolf." He nodded. "Yes, I did."

"Ha! I knew it!"

He placed his hand on my cheeks. "How long have you been having them? If that's okay."

"It's fine. I got my first one right before my maths exam in tenth grade. It was pretty bad timing on my side. And it was completely my fault."

"Look at me, it isn't your fault." I wiggled down his lap and got out of bed and stood up. It was my fault. Everything was. Everything I touched eventually broke.

"We need wine! Do you want some?" He nodded and I turned around and slipped and fell. "Oh my God, did you hurt yourself?" I turned around on the floor and started laughing. This was so typical of me.

"I'm fine. This is so me! It's so typical for me to embarrass myself in front of cute boys."

"You think I'm cute?" I ignored him internally cursing myself and walked out of my room and into the kitchen. Getting two glasses from the cupboard. I walked over to the refrigerator and leaned my head on the door. I let out a groan.

Why the fuck did I say that? Seriously, what is wrong with me? Now he must think I'm stupid or something. Why? Just why?

Opening the door to the fridge I took out the wine bottle. Taking the glasses in my other hand I closed the door with my foot and walked back inside to my room. Plopping down on my bed again I gave him one of the glasses.

I unscrewed the top and poured myself a big glass, before I gave him the bottle. "I'm really clumsy, and one of the things that usually don't go my way is pouring things into glasses and stuff like that." I gave him a small smile.

*

The wine was going through my veins and we had been laughing and talking for hours. He had just asked me about my best moment in highschool and I had to think about it. I had explained the whole school system in Norway and how we had first to seventh grade - grunnskolen, then eight to tenth grade - ungdomskolen, and then eleventh to thirteenth grade, or as we called it; first to third grade - vidaregående skole. This event happened in May in third grade on vidaregående skole.

"Ok, so in third grade, we have this tradition where we party for the whole of May until our national day, May 17th every weekend. And if you were crazy you partied every day. We call it russetida. So we have this party, a baptism where you get your name. I wasn't into drinking at that time, so me and my best friend, Emma, took a walk at the beach we were at, you know, to get away for all the drunk people, and we got attacked by a seagull-mother that was protecting her seagull-child, we turned around and sprinted back to where we came from."

We fell into a fit of laughter and he pulled me into his arms. He laid me down on his chest and played with my hair. "Something that bothers me with the English language is that you only have 'I love you'. That's the nice thing about Norwegian. You have two sayings for 'I love you'; 'Jeg elsker deg' and 'Jeg er glad i deg'. The first one you say to like a girlfriend or a boyfriend and the second one you can say to like a friend or a family-member. But I feel like 'Jeg elsker deg' kinda gets thrown around a lot, so for me 'Jeg er glad i deg' is stronger than 'Jeg elsker deg'."

He stroked his hand down my arm and intertwined his fingers with mine while using his other hand to keep stroking my hair. I hummed in content and smiled. He looked down at me and smiled.

"Caroline?"