Christina and Jax

Discussion in 'Literature' started by trammet, Feb 23, 2016.

  1. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    “Damn it!” It’s snowing so hard I can barely see beyond the windshield. The wipers are practically useless at this point. Where the hell did this snow come from? It was bright and sunny when I woke up this morning, and just a little cloudy when I left to make the trek to my parents’. I hadn’t heard a thing about snow. I might not have grown up here but I know a “snow sky” when I see one. There wasn’t an inkling.

    Now this. I’ve been struggling to so much as inch up the road for the past hour, and I know I’m not that far from town. It started snowing minutes after I left and before I knew it I was slipping and sliding. The snow was piling up fast, the winds whipping it around and nearly knocking me off the road more than once.

    I have to turn around. This is hopeless. I thought I might be able to drive through the storm and get to the other side, but no such luck. Holidays or no holidays, it’s just not happening today. I’ll have to try again tomorrow.

    But I can’t see. I can’t freaking see anything. I’d happily turn around if I could so much as see the road. I haven’t even been passed by another car for miles. They must have all caught the weather report I missed. I slow down, hoping to make a U-turn, but all I do slide. I don’t have the traction.

    What the hell am I supposed to do? “Fuck!” I scream, pounding on the wheel. This is just my luck. Why are things like this always happening to me? I’m not a bad person.

    I have to pull over. That’s all there is to it. I’m not making any progress. I also realize, to my horror, that the car’s running out of gas. Fast. Shit! There had been half a tank when I left the house, figuring on stopping once I was on the road of course. Now there’s less than a quarter. And I have no idea where I am or where the next station comes in.

    I slow down, hoping to slide far enough off the road so as to avoid passing cars and plow trucks. I can just imagine being plowed in on top of this.

    Damn, damn, damn! Now what? I’m completely unprepared for this. I know I’m supposed to have a winter survival kit in my car. I always hear about it on the news. Blankets, water, flashlight, batteries, a radio, flares. I’m not even wearing snow boots or a decent pair of gloves.

    Christina, you’re an idiot.

    I might as well curl up in the back seat and try to wait this out. There’s enough gas to get me to the next station, I’m sure. I just can’t make it while there’s a blizzard going on outside. It can’t last forever.

    I check my phone, realizing my parents will be flipping out before long. I’m only around two hours away from them, so once that amount of time passes and they don’t hear from me they’re going to lose their minds. Of course, in keeping with the rest of the day, my phone has no signal.

    Could this get any worse? Now I’m getting colder by the minute and worried about my parents. They’re going to be so upset when they don’t hear from me.

    But then…what about me? What happens if I’m snowed under? What happens if I can’t open the car doors by the time it stops? What if I freeze to death in this damned Corolla?

    Okay, Christina. Deep breaths. I run my hands through my long, dark hair, smoothing it down to calm myself a bit. No need to lose my cool. This will be okay. Things like this happen all the time, I’m sure. It’s not like I’m naked. I’m wearing perfectly warm clothes and while my boots aren’t made for snow they’re warm enough. My coat’s warm, too. I’ll be okay.

    I lean back against the seat, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a nap. At least then I won’t feel so cold anymore. I check the time—it’s a little after eleven in the morning. I set the alarm on the phone for one hour. That won’t be too long. I won’t freeze up. And hopefully by then the storm will have passed and I’ll be on my way.

    I close my eyes…only to have them fly open when I hear a heavy pounding on windshield.

    What the hell is this? I sit up, groggy. How can I be groggy when I just fell asleep? Wait—it’s darker outside. And much snowier. What’s happening?

    I pick up my phone…which is now dead. Oh my fucking god the battery died. How long have I been asleep, anyway?

    “Hey!” I call out to whomever it is outside the car. “Help!” I realize in the back of my mind that this person, whoever they are, could be a murderer. But I might have slept my way into oblivion if it wasn’t for them, too. The inside of the car is beyond freezing, and my teeth are chattering. If only I didn’t feel so groggy.

    I see sheets of snow falling from the exterior of the car and realize I was nearly snowed in. Holy shit. This person is my new superhero, whoever they are.

    I see a dark figure looming outside the car, beside the driver’s side door. I lean forward to unlock it and watch as it opens. An absolutely immense figure in a black hooded parka slides behind the wheel. I can’t see their face, a heavy scarf covering most of it.

    “How long have you been here?” The voice is deep, resonant. Of course it’s a man; otherwise I’d be dealing with the biggest woman I’d ever known.

    “Since around eleven this morning. What time is it now?”

    “Way after eleven,” he replies, his voice grim. “I don’t want to alarm you, but you wouldn’t have lasted much longer out here. It’s a miracle I even saw you from my window.”

    “Your window? Do you live around here?”

    “Not far. Less than a quarter mile off the road. The wind died down for a little while and your car stood out against the snow.” Thank god I went with red, I think.

    “You’re nearly out of gas.”

    “Yes, I know. I was going to stop along the way. I didn’t count on fighting my way down the road in this mess for hours.”

    “Do you even watch the news? They’ve been talking about this storm for days.”

    “They have?” I’ve been so busy at work, I completely missed the alerts. I don’t like the snotty tone in his voice, either. Whether or not he’d saved my life, he didn’t need to talk to me like some sort of idiot. I was doing a good enough job of talking to myself that way as it was.

    “Listen. If you stay out here, you’ll freeze to death. Do you even have a blanket?” I shake my head, feeling lame. He sighs, the exasperated sound of a put-upon parent with a willful child. “I’ll take you back to my house. It’s not far, you’ll be able to walk it. I can’t in good conscience leave you out here.”

    To his house? I don’t know who this guy is. He could be a cousin to Leatherface or something. Maybe this is his thing, waiting for storms to roll through so he can lure young girls to his house for God only knows what.

    He sees me hesitating and naturally knows why. “We can’t spend too much time before you decide whether or not I’m a serial killer. It’s fucking cold as a witch’s tit in here, and getting worse. You’re not dressed for this. Either come with me or don’t. Keep in mind the roads are impassable, and the car was nearly buried when I found you.”

    I know I don’t have a choice. It really is a matter of following him to his house of potential horrors or die out here. Neither is looking better than the other right now, but at least there’s a chance he’s not a murderer. I have no chance out here.

    “Okay,” I reply, throwing my useless phone into my purse. “Lead the way.”

    I only hope I don’t live to regret this.
     
    James and Pejuamadi like this.
  2. Rain

    Rain Active Member

    Messages:
    112
    Likes Received:
    68
    Trophy Points:
    28
    I think 'm gonna like it here ;). Don't stop Trammet
     
  3. Oluomoadebayo

    Oluomoadebayo Moderator Staff Member

    Messages:
    1,037
    Likes Received:
    338
    Trophy Points:
    83
    I'm following.
     
  4. JayMomma

    JayMomma New Member

    Messages:
    25
    Likes Received:
    16
    Trophy Points:
    3
    Good beginning. Keep it up
     
  5. Pejuamadi

    Pejuamadi Active Member Staff Member

    Messages:
    495
    Likes Received:
    223
    Trophy Points:
    43
    It's in you, Trammet. Carry go.
     
  6. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    I’d been working at the coffee shop for less than a year when I first heard about the Angels of Chaos.

    It was a Sunday morning and the place was jumping, just as it always was after church let out. Amy and I were like a well-oiled machine, though, working together seamlessly to keep the line moving. I knew I’d hit the jackpot when I hired her. She needed next to no supervision, totally able to read a situation and go with it. When a shot of espresso was finished brewing she’d start the next without asking. When a tray of muffins was running low she’d go to the back to get a new one. She wiped down the tables as soon as customers left so new ones could sit down, kept the milk and creamers full, everything. I knew I could count on her.

    This left me free to take orders and chat up the customers. “Mrs. Stephens! That’s a large no-foam skim latte and a blueberry muffin, right?” I’d ring up the sale, getting things in order while asking whether her daughter had decided on a college yet. Mr. Brown was a small black coffee and a cheese Danish. His wife had just gotten one of her knees replaced, so I asked after her and told him to give her my best. The Jenkinses always brought in their three-year-old, and I always gave him a special little treat while I fixed their coffee.

    This was what I’d always seen myself doing: Running a little place the townspeople could visit and feel as though they belonged, somehow. Like I cared about them—because I did. When they walked in and heard their order being called out even before they spoke, they felt valued. That’s the sort of treatment that keeps customers coming back for more.

    “How do you manage to keep it all straight?” Mrs. Hauser asked, handing me a ten-dollar bill. “I’d go crazy, trying to remember everything and everybody.”

    “You keep track of all those soap operas you watch,” Mr. Hauser pointed out with a chuckle. “All the characters and the storylines.” I laughed along with him.

    “That’s different. I’ve been watching them for years—she’s only been here six months!” They both looked at me, the picture of a cute little old couple if ever there was one.

    I shrugged. “I have a good memory, I guess. It comes naturally. Plus, I like you. It helps.” I winked at Mr. Hauser, and he chuckled again.

    “If I were thirty years younger…” he hinted. Mrs. Hauser gave him a playful smack on the shoulder.

    “Try fifty years,” she corrected. “Besides, a pretty young thing like Christina wouldn’t have the time for you.”

    Mr. Hauser rubbed his shoulder in mock pain. “See how she abuses me?” They both laughed, and I joined them half-heartedly.

    “If you were young and single, Mr. Hauser, I’d give you my number for sure.” I handed them their pastries, thinking they would drop the subject now that they’d been served.

    “A pretty girl like you should be married, or at least going with somebody,” Mrs. Hauser insisted. I bit the side of my tongue to hide my distaste. One thing about living and working in a small town where you knew everybody: Everybody knew you right back. At least, they thought they did.

    “You’re such a sweet girl, too. Don’t worry,” she patted my hand reassuringly, “the right fella is out there for you.”

    “Chris, another gallon of whole milk!” Amy was working the espresso machine, steaming milk for lattes. I smiled at the Hausers and turned to help her.

    “Thanks,” I whispered. “That was getting awkward.”

    “Mrs. Hauser’s always trying to fix people up,” Amy explained. “She’s a sweetheart.”

    I didn’t disagree. I just wished she’d let my business be my business. There wasn’t much about me I didn’t share with others…except my love life. That was off-limits.

    Awkward conversations aside, I loved the work. I felt energized, accomplished, all because my customers were pleased. Once the rush died down I went from table to table, saying hi to those I didn’t get the chance to chat with while Amy manned the register and coffee machines. All the while I reminded myself that I was making my mark on the town, which was a fantastic feeling.

    It was a great little shop, too. I’d only bought it a little over six months before, when the previous owner had to pull up stakes and move across the country to care for a sick parent. Everything was in working order—all I had to do was step in and take over. The best part was since the move was taking place in such a hurry and he didn’t want to leave the shop abandoned, I managed to get it for next to nothing.

    I wiped down the tables that had just emptied, feeling proud of what we were building here. Sure, the customer base was already healthy when I took over, but now there was a feeling of family. I heard it time and again, how happy the customers were when they came in and I knew who they were. That’s what I wanted to set me apart—well, that and my baking.

    “Christina, this is the best carrot cake muffin I’ve ever had,” I heard one woman say over a mouth full of food. I smiled and reminded her that I could always box a couple up to take home. My recipes were my babies, and I guarded them with my life. I’d always wanted to go to culinary school. Well, this was the next best thing. Besides, what was the point of culinary school but to have my own bakery one day? I’d pretty much cut out the middle man.

    Good thing, too, since I didn’t have the money for tuition anyway.

    A loud growl sounded outside, and every head turned toward the plate-glass windows which looked out onto the street. It was a pretty little street, very all-American, with its shops, striped awnings and leafy trees. The sight of two dozen motorcycles traveling down the center, then, seemed extremely out-of-place. Their engines roared as they passed by.

    “Damn it,” I heard one of the customers grumble. “I thought they were gone for good.”

    Amy came up beside me. “They’re back,” she murmured.

    “Who are they?” I had never seen them before. They all rode black bikes, all dressed in denim and leather. They were a fearsome looking bunch.

    “The Angels of Chaos,” she said. I heard disgust in her voice.

    “Why haven’t I heard of them before? Where did they come from?”

    “Most of them were in jail, some big thing around a year ago. Destruction of property, suspected arson. They were all on probation for one reason or another, so they all got time for violation,” she explained quietly. “I never heard the specifics, but suffice it to say nobody was sorry to see them go. I guess they got out. Their clubhouse is right on the outskirts of town; they’re not allowed to do business inside.” A couple walked in just then, and Amy went back to the register to take their order.

    A motorcycle club? That didn’t fit the town at all. It was like something out of a Normal Rockwell painting; that’s why I settled here in the first place, just before buying the shop. I heard several customers murmuring among themselves, and I inched my way closer to them. Now that I’d heard of the club’s existence I wanted to know more.

    “She was such a sweet girl, too,” one of them was saying. “…never understood why she married him.”

    “Suspicious,” another one declared, shaking their head. “Never believed it was accidental death.”

    “Of course not. Nobody mixed up with that club dies accidentally. Just because she wasn’t a member doesn’t mean she wasn’t part of it.”

    “I heard that he still hasn’t gotten over it.”

    “Would you? A dead wife and no answers? And the way she died…so awful.” They continued their gossip while I walked away to clear off another table.

    I thought back to the men I saw, riding past. I wondered which one they were talking about. Or was he even riding with the club anymore, considering that he hadn’t gotten over his wife’s death? If somebody I loved died tragically, potentially because of what I was mixed up in, I wasn’t sure I’d want to be part of it anymore.

    I hoped they stayed far away from Main Street from now on, and if they didn’t I hoped they weren’t in the mood for coffee when they visited. I could only imagine how quickly my customers would fly away to Starbucks if a motorcycle club started hanging around, no matter how delicious my baked goods were.

    I made it a point to busy myself and stop thinking about it. After all, no sense in worrying about something that haven’t happened yet and probably would never happen.
     
  7. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    Now I’m being led through the snow by a tall man who looks like he could crush me if he decided to. But I don’t have a choice. It’s either this or freeze to death in the back seat of my car.

    We’re actually not far from where I pulled over, I realize. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was only a quarter mile or so. When the storm was at its peak I couldn’t see a damn thing out the windows, though. I could have been driving down the middle of Main Street and never would have known, unable to see more than a foot in front of me. Now I see the house more clearly as we approach. It sits by itself, green siding stark against the gray sky, smoke curling up from the chimney. I turn to check that my car is safe where it’s sitting. I can easily see it from here, even with the flakes that are still falling fast and heavy. I guess that’s how he spotted me.

    A hound dog runs alongside us, bounding through the snow. I can’t help but laugh at its absolute joy. To think I’d probably come close to dying in the same snow this dog finds so thrilling. I wonder if he lives alone, this man, or if he has a family. The idea of freezing isn’t appealing but neither is being raped and murdered in some farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere.

    I’m nearing exhaustion, slowing down even though he’s doing a good job of clearing a path for me through the deep snow. The hound trails behind him, nudging me. Sweet dog. This gets the man’s attention; he doubles back for me, taking my arm and pulling me along with him. I have no choice but to be dragged. I’m glad for it, though. I might have given up if left to my own devices. When’s the last time I ate? I don’t even remember now.

    “Come on,” I hear him shout, urging me to keep up. “It’s getting heavy again. Just a little more.” We finally reach the back porch and stumble up the steps, pushed from behind by the wind that has indeed strengthened once again. We made it just in the nick of time. He opens the door and ushers me inside along with the dog, then pushes it shut against the howling wind.

    I’m standing in a little farmhouse kitchen, complete with a fireplace along one wall. There’s a flight of stairs dividing the room in half, with the stove and other appliances on the opposite side from the hearth. The flames are blazing, which is a welcome sight to my half-frozen eyes. The whole room is quaint, cozy, and not at all what I would have expected.

    “Motherfucker,” he breathes, panting for air. “I can’t believe how hard it’s blowing out there.”

    “Tell me about it,” I say weakly, hardly able to speak. He must see me swaying on my feet because he rushes to me, sitting me in a chair by the fire.

    “Let me take your gloves,” he says in his deep voice. “They’re all wet and cold. Same with your boots, they’re probably soaked through now.” He was right. These weren’t snow boots. I was totally unprepared for this. His rough hands rip the boots from my feet, along with the wet socks.

    “Do you feel this?” He pinches the sole of my foot, and I nod. “Good. They’re red, not white. White would be a problem. Keep them by the fire.” I do as I’m told, while stretching forward to warm my hands as well. If he wanted to rape me, I reason with myself, he wouldn’t be so concerned with whether I lose my toes or fingers.

    Minutes later he comes back, holding out a steaming mug. “Drink this,” he says, thrusting it toward me.

    “What—what is it?”

    “Tea with whiskey. It’ll get your blood flowing again.” I take it, feeling tentative. Is he drugging me? I take a sniff and reel backward, the smell of the whiskey hitting me hard.

    “I can’t guarantee how well I’ll handle this. I don’t know how long it’s been since I ate.”

    “We’ll deal with that later. Right now you need to get your blood going and warm up, especially since you were asleep in the cold.” I see his point and take a tiny sip. It burns a warm trail down my throat and makes me wince, but there’s no denying how nice it feels to warm up inside. I smile a little, making him smile in return.

    “That’s better,” he says, taking off his heavy parka to reveal more of himself. I watch him through the steam coming off the tea. He’s just as big without the coat as he was with it. Tall, muscular, intimidating. He’s wearing a tee shirt in the middle of winter, stretched tight over his broad chest and around his thick biceps. I see tattoos on both arms. His hair is dark, cropped close.

    “I’ve seen you before,” I say, surprised. “You came into my shop one day around a week ago, didn’t you?”

    He grins. “I did. You have a good memory.”

    “I remember all my customers.” I take another sip of tea, choosing to leave out the part where he stuck out because of how gorgeous he was. He’d come in alone, right after I’d opened for the day. I’d sent Amy to the bank for change, leaving just me and him in the shop together. I’d felt a little overwhelmed by him, by his sheer size and presence, not to mention his smoldering good looks and big dark eyes. He’d been nothing but polite, though, and had left a big tip in the jar.

    “You’re probably the only person in town who was nice to me that day,” he says thoughtfully.

    “Why’s that?”

    “Long story. How’s the tea?”

    “I feel like I’m floating on a warm cloud.”

    “That sounds about right.” He smiles, dazzling against his tanned skin. He must work outdoors or something, judging from the body and the tan.

    “So listen, I hate to tell you this but it’s gonna take me forever to get your car out of that snow. It’s probably completely buried by now. Besides, there’s a second storm on its way tonight. Anything that’s cleared off will just be back by morning.”

    “Wait. What are you saying?” I’ve fallen off my cloud and back down to Earth with a thud.

    “I’m saying you’ll have to spend the night. There’s just no way for you to get out of here; besides, there’s no gas in the tank. Remember?”

    The warm, cozy feeling I had disappears in a flash. I’m sure I’ve seen at least one horror movie that started out like this. “Uh-uh. No way!”

    His expression changes. Now he looks dark, dangerous, the way I’d expect him to be if judging him by his tattoos alone. “Listen, sweetheart, you’re more than welcome to walk your ass back home in the middle of a freaking blizzard if you’re so dead set against it. Be my guest.”

    Damn it. He’s right, of course. I’m trapped here whether I like it or not. Even though the part of my brain still rational enough for thought reminds me I could easily be dead right now, frozen in the back seat of my car if it wasn’t for him, the rest of me is annoyed that I have to stay here instead of at home or, better yet, with my parents. Gorgeous or not, he’s a complete stranger.

    A stranger who save my life, that is.

    “You’re right. I’m sorry, that was bitchy of me,” I mumble. “I wasn’t thinking. It’s just that I was so excited about getting home to see my parents for the holidays. It’s been a while, you know? They were looking forward to seeing me, too. This isn’t how I’d planned on things going.”

    “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure they’d rather have you alive than frozen to death in the middle of the road.”

    “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Okay? You’re right. You win. And it’s nice of you to let me stay. It was really great that you came to get me, too. Thank you.”

    “You’re welcome.” We sit in silence for a while, then I remember something.

    “Shit. Is your land line working? I didn’t have any service on my phone, then it went dead. I couldn’t call my parents, they must be worried by now. Especially if they heard about the blizzard.”

    “Oh, yeah.” He gets up and fetches a handset, mounted to the wall by the back door. I take it, hoping the lines are still up and I can get through to my mom.

    “Christina! We’ve been worried sick!”

    “I’m sorry, Mom, really. I got stranded in the snowstorm out here and…had to pull over at a motel for the night.” I glance at him and notice the way he grins when he hears my lie. I roll my eyes, assuring Mom that I’m safe and I’ll call her in the morning.

    I hang up, now at a total loss for words. For better or worse, I’m stuck in a secluded farmhouse with a total stranger. What do I do now?
     
  8. Pejuamadi

    Pejuamadi Active Member Staff Member

    Messages:
    495
    Likes Received:
    223
    Trophy Points:
    43
    Interesting....following
     
  9. Oluomoadebayo

    Oluomoadebayo Moderator Staff Member

    Messages:
    1,037
    Likes Received:
    338
    Trophy Points:
    83
    Just finish reading. Good job @trammet
     
  10. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    Thank you.
     
    Pejuamadi likes this.
  11. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    thanks!
     
  12. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    Jax

    The whiskey loosened up her tongue and now she won’t shut up. If I’d known she’d be a talker I might have left her out in the snow.

    Okay. I wouldn’t have left her out in the snow, I remind myself. Maybe I’d have bought myself some earplugs before the storm, then. Something to help me deal with her incessant talking.

    I know it’s because she’s nervous. We’re strangers, and I’m sure to Little Miss Coffee Shop I’m the Big Bad Wolf. I remember how she looked at me when I first walked into her place last week; her eyes went round before she could stop herself. Her skin was already fair, but it went so pale I could see the freckles standing out against her nose, her cheeks.

    I’m used to getting that reaction when people first meet me, though. It’s nothing new.

    She’s not a bad person, of course. She was genuinely nice to me. But that was because she didn’t know me. She had no idea that I really am the Big Bad Wolf after all.

    So now she’s nervous, alone in the house with me. I notice the way she hesitates before taking off her coat, and I know it’s because she’s still slightly afraid of me. Even though I saved her damn life, she’s still afraid.

    This isn’t exactly an everyday thing for me, either. I haven’t spent this much time alone with a woman, awake and with our clothes on, in years. Ever since…

    “Do you live here alone?” she asks, looking at me with those big green eyes. Innocent eyes.

    “Why? You think the house needs a woman’s touch or something?”

    “No.” I think I see a little bit of a blush on her cheeks. “I was going to say just the opposite. It’s a really nice house. Cozy.”

    “Thanks. It was decorated by…a woman I knew.” I look down at my hands. It’s still hard to talk about her, even after all this time. The girl is smart enough to not ask any questions.

    “I just realized something,” she says, laughing. “I don’t even know your name!”

    “God, of course not.” I’m laughing now, too. “I’m Jax. Jax Fairbanks.”

    “Christina Reardon.”

    “Christina Reardon, you make a mean blueberry muffin. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a week. Really, it was excellent.”

    She definitely blushes this time. “Thanks.”

    “You’ve been there how long now?”

    “Six months.”

    “I bet the town considers you a pleasant change from Ricky.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well…Ricky was..a guy. And not the handsomest looking guy, either.” As a matter of fact, he looked like a troll. But I keep that to myself, not wanting to come off like too much of a duick. “The first thing I thought when I walked in was what a nice change of pace it was, seeing you behind the counter instead.”

    She scowls, and I wonder what the hell I said to piss her off. “So what you’re saying is because I have tits, I have customers?”

    “That’s not what I said at all. I’m gonna chalk it up to the whiskey.” But there’s no backing down from her. She stands up, hands on hips.

    “No, that’s exactly what you meant though. I’m a girl, so people come to my shop. If I was a guy…a plain, average looking guy…they wouldn’t be as likely to come in.”

    “What the fuck difference does it make either way? Why are you getting so worked up over this? Either way it works in your favor. You’re pretty. You’re nice. I’m sure people like visiting the shop and seeing a pretty, nice girl smiling at them. That’s all I meant.” I hold up my hands, surrendering. Christ, she’s tough.

    She’s still simmering, but she sits back down. “My pastries are good.”

    “I just said they are.”

    She folds her arms. “And I remember everybody’s name and what they usually order.”

    “I’m sure they appreciate it.”

    “They do.”

    “Good.”

    “Why do you always have to have the last word?”

    “…I don’t.” She turns her head toward the fire so I won’t see her smile in spite of herself. Now that she’s not looking at me I can size her up. She’s tall, curvy, with wavy dark hair that hangs past her shoulders. She has that rash of freckles on her nose and cheeks, which I don’t normally like but on her they’re cute. She’s the opposite of Marissa.

    My heart clenches like it always does when I think of her. After two years it still clenches up. She was tiny, short and small framed, with golden blonde curls. She was always quiet, thoughtful, never really shared an opinion. Always going whatever way I wanted to go. Always stepping aside so I could stand in front of her. Smart as hell, but not overly opinionated. She’d been taught from an early age to keep her opinions to herself.

    The girl in front of me right now was nothing like that. I’d tried to give her a compliment and she practically jumped down my throat.

    So why am I so attracted to her? She’s nothing like the women I usually go for.
     
    Pejuamadi and Rain like this.
  13. trammet

    trammet Active Member

    Messages:
    132
    Likes Received:
    47
    Trophy Points:
    28
    I hope someone is still following this story?
     
  14. JayMomma

    JayMomma New Member

    Messages:
    25
    Likes Received:
    16
    Trophy Points:
    3
    Yup. Still following
     
  15. Uche Mbonu

    Uche Mbonu New Member

    Messages:
    7
    Likes Received:
    4
    Trophy Points:
    3
    nice..good job
     
  16. Oluomoadebayo

    Oluomoadebayo Moderator Staff Member

    Messages:
    1,037
    Likes Received:
    338
    Trophy Points:
    83
    I'm following for real.
     
  17. Rain

    Rain Active Member

    Messages:
    112
    Likes Received:
    68
    Trophy Points:
    28
    Rain is still followin
     
  18. Oluomoadebayo

    Oluomoadebayo Moderator Staff Member

    Messages:
    1,037
    Likes Received:
    338
    Trophy Points:
    83
    Begging rain not to wet my cloths though.
     
    Rain likes this.
  19. Rain

    Rain Active Member

    Messages:
    112
    Likes Received:
    68
    Trophy Points:
    28
    Lol...don't worry, u'l like it
     
  20. Oluomoadebayo

    Oluomoadebayo Moderator Staff Member

    Messages:
    1,037
    Likes Received:
    338
    Trophy Points:
    83
    I will hold you to that.
     

Share This Page

  1. This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
    By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
    Dismiss Notice