We finished our meals at about the same time and I grabbed hers from her hand, got up and put them to the side for trash. When I sat back down, I didn’t intentionally sit closer. I was close enough to touch her, though. Our legs were stretched out in front of us, separated by only inches. I had never been this aware of someone’s hand, the placement of their thigh or the shift of their head since I was a teen bracing for my first kiss.
The whole right side of my body tingled with awareness and all we did was sit there, not talking, staring at the one point of light coming from a small lantern in this dark room.
“Thank you.” She broke the silence with a pained whisper. I don’t know what she was thanking me for. It might have been for the MRE or the water, or for setting up the cushions. Maybe it was because I was respecting her need for solitude. I would probably never know, so I nodded my head as if I were wise and knew what she was talking about.
Then the toughest woman I had ever known just sort of collapsed next to me. She fell into my side, her head on my shoulder, and her body shook as silent tears ripped through her. I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her closer. She was so small, but she fit to my side perfectly. I held her tight and let her cry. I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t say meaningless platitudes like, “It’ll get better,” or “she’s in a better place,” because personally I didn’t believe either of those statements.
This world was not going to get better. There would be no happily ever afters in a world where people ate each other. Where men like me took advantage of the weak. And how could there be a God in a mess like this? How could an all-knowing God authorize something like this? If there was no God, there was no heaven, so after we closed our eyes forever, it would be blackness, or worse, reincarnation.
I couldn’t imagine being a child in this world. Might as well strap a sign on your back that says, “dinner.”
I was lost in my black thoughts when her shaking stopped and her breath evened out. She had fallen asleep. In my arms. I guess instead of being all glum, I should have paid attention to the woman that made my body tingle. The woman I had been obsessing over since she pointed a gun in my face.
Baby.
The nickname fit.
FORTY-ONE | In Trouble
I awoke with my back stiff and my shoulder asleep. There was something warm and soft pressed against me. I was still propped up against the wall and Baby was draped over me. When I moved to get life into my arm, she moaned in protest and moved in closer, her arm draping over my lap.
It was morning and as a typical male in his early twenties, I awoke showing off my virility. She moved again slightly, coming to and trying to figure out where she was. She looked up at me, her big blue eyes blinking away the sleep. I was so grateful I had left the lantern burning, I got to witness this moment, instead of it being lost in the darkness.
“Morning,” I said to her.
“Morning.” There went that blush again, that flare of red came to her cheeks so easily. It flamed hot when she realized where her hand was resting and what it had stimulated. She moved it quickly, but didn’t break eye contact.
I almost pulled her back when she pushed away from me and got to her knees. I almost took advantage of her grief and her confusion.
Almost
. I let her go, and she went to the door and moved the chair. The light washed over us. It must be late in the morning judging by the amount of light in the outside hallway.
She glanced at me, a halo of light around her as she stood in the doorway.
“I’m going to find a bathroom,” she said and all I could do was nod. I was in trouble.
FORTY-TWO | Giving In
The place was alight in the morning sun. I hadn’t seen a day this pretty in a while. New Orleans winters were generally gloomy, foggy and overcast. The humidity never left no matter how cold it got. It was the kind of cold that got into your bones and never left.
But not this morning. The sun shone brightly, the sky was a bright blue with only a few clouds to mar it. Birds flew in and out of the trees, celebrating the morning and the feel of spring creeping into the city. It was beautiful, but all I could do was stare morosely out of the glass front of the building. The day did not reflect my mood.
Murphey and I were the kind of friends that wouldn’t see each other for months and then start up the conversation right where we left off. When I left the Army, we hadn’t seen each other much. She had come to New Orleans on leave one time, but that was about it. Even though she had been stationed close, she was still living the military life and didn’t agree with me becoming a mercenary.
It didn’t matter though, she still would visit and we would pick up right where we left off. That’s why she came looking for me after Z hit. She knew I was alive. She knew I would help her. And now I had let her die. I had always been stronger in hand-to-hand, Murphey had preferred the air, going SOAR, the Special Operations Aviation Regiment, after Airborne, while I went Ranger. I shouldn’t have let her handle that on her own. I should have been there for her.
A little movie projector in my head replayed the events, reassuring me there was nothing I could have done. We were outnumbered, and I was in the shit myself.
There was nothing I could have done.
My thoughts repeated on a loop. The knife went into her neck again and I shivered.
I needed a bathroom. I wandered around the place until I found a bathroom. I stripped and cleaned up using the water in the toilet to do a bit of wipe down. I used water from my canteen to brush my teeth though, I had my priorities. Sink was for bathroom, toilet for cleaning. The world was fucked up.
I got dressed again. The day might be bright, but it was still chilly. I went to find Rebel. I had been confused when I woke up. I had woken wrapped around him. To make it worse, I had enjoyed it. I felt safe. He took care of me last night. Honestly, he had taken care of me this entire trip. I didn’t know what to think about that. I never had someone take care of me.
Never
. Not even my parents, when they had been around. It was weird, it was off,
it was warm
.
I found him standing in the hallway using the mirror in the hall and the light through the windows to shave. He was shaving his beard off using an old fashioned straight razor. The kind that folded and was used by barber shops.
I felt my entire perspective shift. I stood there staring at him like a fool, my gut twisted in knots.
“I found this in the director’s office. It was in a fancy leather case.” He held up the case and smiled. With half a beard and a big smile on his face he was ridiculous and attractive. My stomach flipped. My perspective shifted two more degrees.
Why not?
Really, why not?
I had worried about what Rebel would prove to me on this mission. I shouldn’t have, because the only thing he proved was that I could trust him. That he was a good guy.
He looked back to the mirror when I didn’t say anything and continued to hack away at his beard. He was not used to using a razor of this kind, it was apparent by how he was doing it. I walked up to him and took the razor from his hand.
He looked down at me and I pushed his chin up.
“Why are you shaving your beard, Rebel?”
I placed the blade against his neck and he swallowed nervously. My mind flashed to Murphey’s neck again. And what I had done. How I had killed her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I whispered, not know if I said it for him or me. I began to shave his face. Long strokes, and I paid careful attention around his nose and chin. By the time I was done, his cheeks shone and his face was smooth.
I touched his chin and then ran my hands over his cheeks and face. I inspected my work, I had done a good job. He was almost pretty without his beard.
He pulled the razor out of my hand and flipped it close, he put it in the case and set it to the side. Then he encased me with his arms, he placed both of them on either side of me and pressed me against the table. He leaned in close, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. We were both thinking it.
I wanted to forget.
He took my mouth and kissed me with a passion I had never experienced before. I felt the warmth of his attention travel from my lips through my chest and nestle between my legs. It was an amazing feeling and I wanted more. I wanted to forget. I wanted to lose myself in this man.
I opened my mouth for him and his tongue licked at the insides of my mouth. He gripped my hips and pulled me closer. My arms involuntarily went around his neck. My whole body was pressed against him. His erection was hard and insistent on my stomach.
His hands went to my ass and he pulled me even closer to him, I could tell he wanted more. My head fell back as he picked me up and placed me on the small hall table. His cock pressed between my legs as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Damn,” I moaned as his lips found my neck and kissed down the sensitive vein and then bit my ear. His hand left my ass and went to my stomach, pulling my tank top out of my pants and lifting it up to expose my sports bra.
He fumbled with the tight material until I had pity on him and pushed away for a second to pull it over my head.
I kept these babies strapped in tight, so exposing them felt different and heavy. He stared at me, his eyes dilated, his mouth open. I knew I had a nice rack, but I didn’t expect to stun him.
“This is where you say something like, ‘nice tits’ or-” He bent down and captured a nipple in his mouth and I moaned in response.
“Nice tits would be a lie, these are the most beautiful pair I have ever laid eyes on,” he said around licks.
“Yeah, that’s much better.” I moaned again as he did something with his fingertips and his tongue.
That rocked my world.
FORTY-THREE | Thanks for Everything
I was drowning in her. In the smell of her. In the taste of her. She was amazing. She was so responsive. With each kiss, I fell deeper into her. All I knew was her and everything from now on would be her. It scared me and excited me and made me want to run as far and as fast as I could into her arms.