DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
You hang up the phone and run out into the hall and yell out loud for anyone who can hear. “They’re back! Party! We gotta have a party!”
In the distance you hear a “Woo-hoo!”
You laugh at Kim and hurry back into your bedroom and grab your notebook, ripping out the page with the grocery list you have ready…amazed that you are so organized for this. It’s going to be simple, just birthday cake and assorted snacks and such. But you only have 24 hours – less, in fact, now that you look at the clock – to get his present ready. The boy never had cupcakes, so he’s getting cupcakes. It’s not that creative or impressive, but baking is something you’re pretty damn good at so that’s what he’s getting. Food is always an appropriate gift, no matter the occasion. When you’re short on cash, effort is always a good substitute. You grab your purse and jacket and head out for the grocery store.
You awake earlier than normal the following morning. You roll out of bed and grab your trusty flannel shirt and sweats. A shower and presentable clothes can come later. First, you bake.
You happily slide the cupcake pan into the oven, pleased with your batter and its proper chocolate content. Now you have to tackle the frosting while they bake. You put the small pan on the stovetop and let the butter melt over low heat while you begin to chop the chocolate and whistle a tune as it comes into your head.
As the chocolate melts lusciously in the pan, you dig out the small hand mixer and prepare for the onslaught of powdered sugar. Once the chocolate is completely melted, you begin to add the sugar and slowly introduce the mixer, keeping it on low speed to avoid inhaling the sugar. You try to keep a steady hand on the mixer to avoid spattering the frosting out of the pan.
“Good morning!”
You jump and involuntarily jerk the mixer out of the pan, spraying warm chocolate goo all over the counter, the wall, and you. You turn toward the voice with an evil glare. “Obi-Wan!!” Your brain finally engages, and you switch off the mixer and drop the pan back to the stove with a clatter and shut off the burner.
“Ooohh nooo,” he says, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Obviously,” you say, grabbing a towel and slapping him with it before wiping the frosting off your arm.
“You…you,” he says pointing around in the air. “On your face, too.” He begins to grin a little.
“It’s not funny!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to put on a serious face.
You wipe your cheeks with the towel, and then it dawns on you. “Hey! Get outta here.”
“What?”
“Top secret stuff. Move it,” you order, pushing him toward the door. “It’s probably ruined now, though.”
He looks into the pan. “It looks good, whatever it is,” he says. He attempts to poke his finger into the chocolate, but you whack his hand with a wooden spoon.
“Out,” you say, waving the spoon at him.
“Well, that’s not a very good welcome home…beating me with kitchen utensils,” he mumbles as you hurry him out into the hallway.
“Excuse me, pouty boy, but I’m trying to have a birthday party for you,” you say. “I don’t have time to coddle you.”
He laughs and turns around to face you once you’re out in the hallway. “I will forgive you on account of your inevitable martyrdom.”
“Hey,” you say, whacking his arm with the spoon.
“Alright, alright,” he says, raising his hands in defense. “I’ll leave you to your business. I just thought I’d stop by and see how you are.”
“I am fine,” you say. “And your mission? Exciting? Full of galactic intrigue?”
“Oh, of course,” he says. “In fact, I’m exhausted from the excitement.”
“Well, in that case,” you say, “you’re probably too burned out for a birthday party.”
“Nooo,” he says with a gentle whine. “I am looking forward to it.” A silly grin forms on his face. “Especially my present.”
“You’re getting a little greedy in your old age,” you say.
“You planted the idea in my head,” he says. “My corruption is your responsibility.”
You laugh. “I think that began long before you started slumming with me.”
“Perhaps,” he says. “Well, I will take my leave. I will see you later this evening.”
“Sounds good,” you say. “Glad to see you back safely.”
He smiles and just looks at you.
“What?”
“You have chocolate on your face,” he says as he points to the approximate location. “Right….no, a little higher…there.”
You rub your fingers near your nose in an attempt to remove it.
“Wait,” he says. His hand moves toward your face. “Let me do it.” He rubs a spot above your lip. “There, just about perfect.”
“Just about?” you ask with a tease. As he moves his hand away, his fingers lightly brush your lips, and you are caught off-guard by a tremor running through your body. You stand, frozen, staring at him. He does the same, staring at you. Both of his hands lightly brush your cheeks, and his face moves a little closer…then backs up a bit…and then moves closer still.
“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, just millimeters from your lips. Your breathing has become slightly erratic, and you are sure the whole building can hear your heart pounding. Your breath catches sharply as his face moves slightly closer. Your senses are overwhelmed by him, and your body begins to tremble as his fingers continue to gently stroke your face. You can practically feel the sparks arc between your lips and his as he hovers just beyond you. And then….the line is crossed. His lips barely – just barely – brush against yours, avoiding full contact, but definitely beyond chaste.
“Alright you two, get a room!”
You jump and smack your head into the wall. You slide nervously to the side, and Obi-Wan leans against the wall where you once stood. Your eyes finally focus and you see a couple of the girls, Terri and Nicole, grinning at you. “H-Hi,” you stutter. And then you feel Obi-Wan’s hand on your shoulder as he steps up to your side, his thumb lightly rubbing THAT spot under your ear. You gasp at the seemingly innocent touch.
“So, birthday boy,” Terri says. “Are you ready for your party tonight?”
“Absolutely,” he says, smiling at them and then at you as he continues to stroke your neck.
You swallow hard.
“Well,” Terri says. “You’d better scoot so we can get to work on this party.”
Just then, you hear the timer in the kitchen. You turn your head toward the high-pitched beeping. “I…. I gotta get that,” you say. You move quickly into the kitchen and switch it off. You take a deep breath as Obi-Wan enters the kitchen…followed by Terri and Nicole.
“Mmmm…smells good in here,” Nicole says.
You stand nervously, finding it very difficult to look at Obi-Wan at the moment.
“Yes…well…I’d better be going,” he says. He walks to you, somewhat oblivious to your audience, and runs his fingers across your forehead, pushing your hair aside. He then not-so-quickly kisses your temple and your cheek before moving back as your breath catches again. “See you tonight.”
Despite the trembling of your body and numbness of your brain, a funny thought strikes you. “I’ll go,” you say.
“Hmmm?”
“I’ll go…to your party thing,” you say.
“I’m sorry? I thought you were organizing this party.”
“No, not your birthday party. The Temple thing. The one you asked me about before,” you say. “I’ve decided I’ll go…if you haven’t found a date already.”
He smiles broadly and swoops back in to kiss your forehead. “I would love that. Thank you,” he says, quickly nuzzling your forehead with his nose. Then he takes a few steps back, watching you in your semi-stunned state, and turns to go.
You finally fully exhale once he is gone and smile awkwardly at Terri and Nicole who just sit and look at you. Then you exclaim, “Oh crap!” You jump for the potholders. open the oven door, and remove the cupcakes. You switch off the oven and then survey the damage from your frosting fiasco.
Two hours later, you work is done. The cupcakes came out practically perfect, complete with sprinkles. You’ve assembled the troops to decorate the party room and make sure the food arrives on time…especially the cake. Now you just need to shower and decide what to wear. But instead, you sit on the corner of your bed, bouncing up and down nervously. It was a kiss. Most definitely a kiss. The beginnings of a kiss, perhaps, but still a kiss. The fact that your lips tingle when you recall the moment proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was a kiss.
You continue to bounce for a good, long while, pondering what all this means. Then you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You look brooding and serious. You stand up and walk to the mirror and tell yourself, “Obi-Wan kissed you.” Then you break out into giddy laughter…a laughter you haven’t felt for ages. You cover your mouth with your hand and stare at yourself in disbelief. “He kissed you!” And then you laugh again. And slowly but surely you allow yourself to feel all the wonderful, silly, earth-shattering emotions of falling for him…and falling hard.
You flop down on your bed and giggle some more. You aren’t quite sure how long you lay there, muttering and giggling. You finally look over at the clock and realize how much time you’ve wasted. “Oops!” You spring up from the bed and march into the bathroom.
After your shower, you rummage through your closet. Your clothes suddenly look boring and not quite up to the occasion for this birthday party. “To the smut closet,” you say heartily as you turn on your heel and hurry out your bedroom door.
You begin to giggle again as you examine the array of options in the smut closet. And –dare you think it – the possibility of sex crosses your mind as well….which makes you laugh even more as you imagine trying to even get into some of the vinyl items hanging in that section of the closet.
You come across a dress with promising potential. It hangs in the more respectable wardrobe section, of course, but it beats what you’ve got in your own closet. And then your eyes fall on IT, and you laugh out loud. You reach forward and pull it off the rack. You hold the green and blue plaid skirt at arm’s length and grin. You then grab the little white blouse that was hanging next to it and examine the two of them together. You turn toward the mirror and hold them up to your body. You laugh again, as it is obvious that the skirt would barely cover your ass, especially with the pleats giving it an extra kick.
“Let me guess…naughty schoolgirl.”
You turn to see Terri standing in the doorway of the large closet. You smile and say, “Yeah, is it me?”
“Sure, why not? Men are suckers for that. Especially him,” she says.
“Him, who?”
“Obi-Wan, of course. The poor, poor padawan pining away for….” She looks around in the air. “What was her name again? Started with a ‘P.’ Pil-something, I think.”
You swallow hard. “Pilara.”
“Yeah! That’s it!” She laughs. “Men are so silly. Is there a woman in this building he hasn’t told that naughty schoolgirl secret to?”
“The Qui-chicks, perhaps,” you say, forcing a smile.
She nods. “Yeah, you’re right. So, are you gonna wear it?”
“Nah, probably not,” you say.
“Oh, you should! Trust me, you’ll score some major points. Tell me,” she says, “has he given you the friend hypothesis yet?”
“The what?”
“You know, the bit about friends becoming more than friends…about taking the risk and going for something more….”
Your giddiness has just packed up and left. “Oh, that bit. Yes, I think I’ve heard that.”
She scurries over to you. “I know it sounds silly and cliché…and I know I should be a smarter woman…but let me tell you, there’s something about Obi-Wan telling you how special you are…how him being a Jedi isn’t good enough for you…that you deserve more…. I mean, I know he must say that to everyone, but it’s just the way it sounds coming from him.”
“Yeah,” you say. It’s all you can say.
“And he’s just so darn beautiful and delicious. You can’t help but eat that up. And besides…. I think he really does believe it. You know, in the moment. I think he’s just a romantic guy. Certainly can’t hold that against him,” she says.
“No. No, you can’t,” you say as your brain goes numb.
“And he’s just so gentlemanly about it…. Like asking your permission for the relationship to go further. Most guys today don’t have the first clue about how to treat a woman, you know?”
“Yes, I know,” you say.
Terri shakes her head. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m a total airhead. Here I am all flighty and giddy over him. But he just has that effect on me.” She smiles. “I know we probably should be kicking his ass for playing us all off of each other, but when he smiles….” She sighs and then laughs. “I’m such a dork!”
“No you’re not,” you say.
“Yes, I am,” she says as her cheeks blush.
You turn around slowly, your hands shaking slightly, and hang the blouse and skirt back up.
“Aren’t you going to wear that?”
“No,” you say.
“Why not?”
“Just don’t feel like it,” you say.
“Aw, c’mon! It’ll be great. He will love it, trust me! Don’t forget, I saw you two in the hallway this morning. Now, he swore me to secrecy on the naughty schoolgirl bit. But just between us girls, that man would not be able to resist you for a moment longer if he saw you in that,” she says. “C’mon, give it a go.”
You shake your head. “No. I’ll just wear something out of my closet. But feel free if you want it,” you say.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” you say, trying to maintain your composure.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “I’ll think about it.”
“Whatever,” you say. “I’d better get moving.”
Terri smiles. “Yeah, me too. See you later. Then she looks at her watch. Oh, not too much later. Party starts in a half-hour. Where’d the time go?”
You smile and shrug your shoulders. “See you later,” you say as you walk out of the closet and head slowly back to your room.
You sit on your bed now, just staring at yourself in the mirror. “Idiot,” you say to your reflection. “Stupid, dumb, desperate female idiot.” Anger, humiliation, sorrow…it all rises up inside you. You stand up and give yourself a hard look. “You will not cry.” Then you hear the sounds of people milling around downstairs. “Shit.” Now what? You consider not going. But you can’t do that. You planned it. If you don’t show, he’ll probably come looking for you, and alone time is not what you want right now. You might kill him…or worse, you may become a blubbering fool.
Is it his fault? You chose to believe him. He is a man, after all. His friendship is real…that much you know. You were just dumb enough to buy his lines. But if he were a true friend, would he give you lines? The last conquest, that’s what you were. It killed him that he couldn’t get you into bed, so he used your emotions to almost get you there. You stare at yourself in the mirror again. “This is Obi-Wan we’re talking about here. He wouldn’t—“ You stop speaking because you cannot make sense of it.
In the mirror you see the reflection of the box of cupcakes you baked for him, all wrapped up and ready to go. You turn quickly and grab the box, ripping off the wrapping paper. You tear off the lid and look at the innocent little cupcakes, their multi-colored sprinkles smiling up at you, their sweet, rich scent making your stomach growl. Then the hurt, betrayed, and pissed-off you kicks in. You march into the bathroom and begin thowing cupcakes into the toilet. One after another after another. You rapidly destroy your hard work until only one cupcake remains, and you suddenly stop yourself before that one meets its fate.
“How very immature,” you say. “And totally disgusting as well,” you remark as you view the soggy chocolate floating in the toilet. You flush it and watch Obi-Wan’s birthday present swirl around and wash away. Unfortunately, a large amount of soggy cupcake remains in the bowl. “Totally, completely disgusting,” you say as you walk out of the bathroom with one cupcake still in your hand. You sit down on the bed and eat it, admiring your culinary skills while cursing the playboy who waits downstairs.
“Well, at least you didn’t sleep with him,” you say as you eat the last bite. It doesn’t feel like much consolation. Perhaps some good sex would’ve have helped offset your self-loathing at the moment. “How could I have been so stupid,” you growl as you stand up and try to figure out what to wear now. You grab a plain, old black dress out of your closet and quickly change into it. You look kind of frumpy, and you certainly aren’t going to bother with hair and makeup. You will just go downstairs, be nice, and make a quick exit. “Remember the ‘be nice’ part,” you tell your reflection before you walk out of the room.
You see him the minute you walk into the room. “Dammit,” you say under your breath as he smiles and quickly makes his way toward you….wearing those black clothes of his, of course.
“Hello,” he says. He leans in and kisses your cheek.
You back away quickly, “Hello.”
He examines you for a moment. “Everything alright?”
“Sure. Fine,” you say. Then you remember to lock your mind up tight.
He eyes you a moment longer and then smiles. “Thank you for the party.”
“No problem,” you say. Just standing next to him could make you forgive everything that he’s done. But you’re not going to let that happen. This is his game, and you are not going to play. You have to be smart this time. He, himself, told you that you have to learn from past mistakes and not repeat them. You stop thinking as his eyes fix on you again.
“And the cake,” he says. “It’s looks great. Is that what you were working on earlier?”
“No, I didn’t make the cake.”
“Oh,” he says. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
“No, I’m just tired,” you say.
“That’s not it,” he says. “It’s something else. What is it?”
“Must you always give me the third degree?”
“It’s just that…something is wrong. I know you well enough—“
“Don’t presume to know me so well, Obi-Wan,” you say a little too sharply.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Did I….” He sighs. “I stepped over the line earlier, didn’t I?”
You are not quite sure how to respond to that. Hell yes, he stepped way over the line…but long ago. Pegging you as a babe to bag was stepping over the line. Using all the friend bullshit on you was stepping over the line. But if this man was just trying to get sex out of you, why would he bother spending so much time…. You shut your mind off again.
He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Tell me what I’ve done,” he says in a hushed plea.
You can’t deal with this now. “Nothing, Obi-Wan. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine. Please just enjoy your party,” you say, making a valiant attempt at a smile.
That seems to placate him, and he picks up his mood. “So how do these things work? When do I get to open my presents?”
“Wow, I’ve really messed you up for good, haven’t I?”
“Yes, I believe so,” he says.
“Well then, have a seat. Let’s get to some presents,” you say. An hour, tops. That’s all you have to get through.
Obi-Wan opens his gifts like a five year-old kid. With each gift he picks up, he gives you a hopeful look, and you slowly hack away at yourself. If you were really worked up, you’d have no problem telling him that your gift is traveling through the sewer lines. But you can’t do that to him. So you remain silent. His gifts are an assortment of items – food, books, various naughty presents. And with each one he opens, you can’t help imagining what kinds of stories he told the giver…the same ones he told you, no doubt. The problem is that you knew this about him. You KNEW it. And you chose to overlook it. However, the real fact is that you didn’t choose it. It just happened. You fell for him, and now it’s going to hurt.
He reaches for the last gift and gives you a big smile. He just knows it’s from you, and you want to crawl under the table. But why all this concern for his feelings? You are the one he’s been playing with. But why would he care so much about your gift if he were just playing games? He opens the card, and you watch with sadness as his face drops when he sees that it isn’t from you. It’s not an expression that anyone else would catch, but you see it. And, apparently, so does Qui-Gon. The Master looks at you…and you at him.
The wrappings and boxes are cleared away, and you sit next to Obi-Wan without speaking as he thanks everyone. None of the words you hear actually sink in while you bide your time and wait for your exit.
“Well, that was fun,” he says.
“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say. “Now you get to have your cake.”
“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I suppose so.”
You know he will never ask about your gift, and you can’t quite think of the right words to say. You look over at Obi-Wan and see him looking in the other direction. You follow his line of sight, and you eyes fall upon Terri…dressed in that short plaid skirt and little white blouse. As she walks across the room his eyes follow her intently, seemingly oblivious to you studying him. She stops to talk to some other girls, and his eyes stop on her. And with that, you slip out of your chair and walk out of the room, up the stairs, and into your bedroom. You lock the door, sit down on the floor next to the bed, and cry.