Page 45
Story: Finding Fate
"What?" he says with a deep laugh. "That's what you took from all that? Hell, I've been preparing that speech since last night."
"You, this big tatted bad boy. You're a feminist."
"Am not."
"Are too," I say, poking his shoulder through the slats as I laugh at the audacity of what I'm saying.
"Whatever," he grumbles. His fingers wrap around mine, holding it in place between the wood. I yelp at the sensation of teeth lightly sinking into the soft pad. "Just don't tell anyone, okay. It’ll ruin the spotted reputation I've worked hard to earn."
Instead of dropping my finger, he gently traces the outside of his lips with the tip. I want to tell him to stop, but then again absolutely not. Damn, this is bad. It’s been like two days, three maybe, and here I am swimming in emotions I've only read about. It's a drug, this feeling. The high of sitting this close, talking and laughing. It all makes sense now, what the fuss is all about.
"Fuck yes," he exclaims, snapping me out of my swirling thoughts. "This proves I was right when I disobeyed his damn direct order to get on the bird."
"You what?" I hiss and push away from the wall. "You did what to come back here?"
His laugh turns into more of a cough. "Don't make a big deal out of it. I do it all the time. They say it's why I was fired from the Army."
What the...? "Fired?"
"Kicked out?"
"How about dishonorably discharged. I think that's what it’s called."
His soft chuckles rattle the wooden planks. "You say dishonorably discharged and I say potato. Same thing."
"You're crazy. Why were you 'fired' if it wasn't for the disobeying orders thing?"
I sense instead of see his mood shift, the silence and darkness between us now menacing, dangerous. All sense of humor and softness from seconds ago has evaporated.
"I beat the shit out of the wrong guy." The rage in his voice sends a shiver of excitement down my spine that settles low in my belly.
"Do I want to know why?" I try to joke but he doesn't answer. Pressing my back along the divider, I curl on my side and sigh into the dirt. "Good night, Nash."
"Good night, badass."
"You, this big tatted bad boy. You're a feminist."
"Am not."
"Are too," I say, poking his shoulder through the slats as I laugh at the audacity of what I'm saying.
"Whatever," he grumbles. His fingers wrap around mine, holding it in place between the wood. I yelp at the sensation of teeth lightly sinking into the soft pad. "Just don't tell anyone, okay. It’ll ruin the spotted reputation I've worked hard to earn."
Instead of dropping my finger, he gently traces the outside of his lips with the tip. I want to tell him to stop, but then again absolutely not. Damn, this is bad. It’s been like two days, three maybe, and here I am swimming in emotions I've only read about. It's a drug, this feeling. The high of sitting this close, talking and laughing. It all makes sense now, what the fuss is all about.
"Fuck yes," he exclaims, snapping me out of my swirling thoughts. "This proves I was right when I disobeyed his damn direct order to get on the bird."
"You what?" I hiss and push away from the wall. "You did what to come back here?"
His laugh turns into more of a cough. "Don't make a big deal out of it. I do it all the time. They say it's why I was fired from the Army."
What the...? "Fired?"
"Kicked out?"
"How about dishonorably discharged. I think that's what it’s called."
His soft chuckles rattle the wooden planks. "You say dishonorably discharged and I say potato. Same thing."
"You're crazy. Why were you 'fired' if it wasn't for the disobeying orders thing?"
I sense instead of see his mood shift, the silence and darkness between us now menacing, dangerous. All sense of humor and softness from seconds ago has evaporated.
"I beat the shit out of the wrong guy." The rage in his voice sends a shiver of excitement down my spine that settles low in my belly.
"Do I want to know why?" I try to joke but he doesn't answer. Pressing my back along the divider, I curl on my side and sigh into the dirt. "Good night, Nash."
"Good night, badass."
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