I don't think I'm going to let Cameron sleep tonight.
“I can tell you're deciding whether to shoot me or not,” Christian addresses me with a raised brow, and it’s the last thing I expect. “But I'm injured, so stop that and come over here.”
Demanding now, aren't we? But injury doesn’t mean amnesty,estrellito.
Still, I find myself walking up to him without a word. I barely reach the doorway when he disappears inside and shuffles around for something, and I'mquiet as I watch him, unsure if to choose to be an asshole or not, when he holds out a red shopping bag towards me.
“For you.”
It takes me a moment to blink.
“What, you thought I'd shop for Evie and not anyone else?” His energy takes on a genuinely confused hue. “Wouldn't that be weird?”
I raise a brow, “So you actually know what's weird and what's not?”
He glares, “I can make a few guesses. Just don't go spreading strange things.”
“Like what?” I sneer as I step forward, the unpleasantness inside me lashing out for an uncontrollable moment. “That my official new recruit likes little girls?”
His stare becomes deadly and I hate that that's not the expression I wanted to see. But even the irritation in his energy dulls out with a huff as he pushes the bag into my chest, “That’s not it. And I thought of you first, asshole.”
I pause, and the foulness in my chest shrinks a fraction. “What?”
“As thanks for letting me be a part of the team,” he avoids my eyes for a shy moment. “And accepting me as an official member.” He drags the towel out of his hair to rest it on his dresser. “It was my first time ‘shopping’... It’s been long enough for me to say that at least. Dahlia helped but I got distracted and ended up buying too many things.”
I'm noticing now the number of shopping bags packed up against the floor and on his bed... and right on cue, I feel like an asshole.
“Anyhow… ‘Merry Christmas.’” There's that strange joy in his energy again, shimmering in the air just for a moment. The words on his tongue sound unfamiliar… tested. And there’s a strange gentleness that reaches his eyes, even as he avoids my gaze. A vulnerability that wasn’t there before.
And just like that, all the spitefulness from the last few moments burns away inside me. Like some kind of evil spirit exposed to the sun as I reach out for his chin and pull his gaze back to mine.
“Merry Christmas, Christian,” I reply. The warmth that spills onto his face, and the pleased flicker in his energy, like the shimmer of a thousand stars, isenough to convince me he’s not a trained soldier at all.
I’m holding a golden retriever in my hands.
How’d you survive in this world for so long like that?
Is there a reason why those words make you that happy?
It’s impossible to think someone as soft as this, and as tough as what I saw in the ring that day, could all be the same person.
A frown touches his lips while I’m holding his face, “Wait, but you’re heading out now, right? Give it back then, you can come back for it later.” He reaches for the bag in my hands but I release him to step out of the way and out of reach.
“No, I'll take it with me.”
“What? Why?”
Because you’re too fucking cute. I tilt my head inexpressively, “I don't need a reason to take my own stuff outside.”
“It became ‘your own stuff’ pretty quickly,” he quirks a brow. “Where are you going anyway?”
I grin, “None of your business.” He follows behind curiously as I walk out the door.
“Are you working?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then can I come with?”
