4
Chapter Four
Sin
Reese is likemy own personal detox. For every moment of anger and hostility this girl has redirected toward me, I have grown a new appreciation for the badass side I see growing within her. I can't take my eyes off of her as she slowly slips her clothes back on, all while trying to hide the struggle of a smile painted across her pretty little lips. "I should practice shooting some more," she says tying up the laces on her boots.
I haven't made much of an effort to get dressed as I'm sitting here against the tree in nothing but my boxer shorts, so I reach up and grab a branch, tugging it away from the tree. "Here, shoot that leaf," I point to the one dangling inches over my head.
"Are you out of your mind?" she asks, tying her hair back up.
"Yup. Now shoot."
"I could shoot your hand off, or—or I could end up putting a bullet right through your head."
"Well, I wouldn't do that. That would kind of suck." I continue holding the branch still. "Come on. Show me what I know you can do."
"Sin, no. I'm not doing it."
"What happened to the girl with confidence?" I stare at her for a minute, watching a darkness seep in through her eyes. There it is. She walks over to the pistol and lifts it back up, inspecting it for a moment, stalling. She backs up until she's at least ten feet away from me and lifts her arms up, holding the pistol just as I showed her. "Back up some more."
I can see she's debating whether or not to argue, but I also think she doesn't want me to remind her of the confidence issue. She backs up another five feet. I'll quit bugging her now since I guess I would like to keep all of my fingers. She lifts the pistol back up and squints her right eye shut. My eyes are locked on her chest and the heaviness of each one of her breaths. "Sin," she breathes out.
"You won't hurt me," I tell her. She squeezes her finger over the trigger and releases. I squint, nervous at first to look up at the leaf and hopefully all of my fingers. With one eye open, I glance up, seeing another hole directly through the center of the leaf. This girl is damn good. "Shit, girl. You got some sick gift there. You sure you never shot a weapon before?"
She drops the pistol down by her side and walks over to me slowly. The wind is blowing the loose strands of her blond hair across her forehead and I unintentionally lose myself in the moment, seeing something change within her. I don't know what it is, but she's driving me nuts. She kneels in front of me and leans in toward me. "How do you know I wasn’t taken here for my bad behavior? How do you knowIwasn't being committed to Applebrook the day you saw me in the hall? How do you know I didn't murder someone with a weapon," she looks down at the pistol, "just like this one." She leans in closer, her lips close enough to touch. "Have you considered the thought that maybe you've had me all wrong?"
Holy fu— her lips crush into mine as her legs wrap around my waist. An ache in my groin has me losing my mind and trying to figure out how to get her clothes off as fast as I can. But that thought is interrupted when she stands up, leaving me with the wind of her presence as she walks off back toward the water. This chick will most definitely be the death of me.
She takes her bag from the ground and slings it over her shoulders before squatting down in front of the water. I watch her observing the dead bodies at the bottom of the pool. The train of thought running through her right now is intriguing and I want to know exactly what she's thinking because regardless of her being locked up for three years, she still seems like she's got this hidden secret of intelligence I'm dying to uncover. "We need to keep walking," I tell her.
"We need water. Is there any water that isn't deadly?"
"There is, but it ain't near here." I finally stand up against the tree, feeling a slight unease in the back of my head. I reach around to the wound, checking on the damage left behind from the food fight. I pull my hand back around to check for blood, displeased to see that there is, in fact, blood coating my fingers. "Hey," I say, softer than I intended. This wound is starting to make me a bit nervous. I can't afford an infection right now. I don't have much for medical supplies and what I have has to last us until we die or get the hell out of here—whichever comes first.
Reese runs over to me with worry laced through her blue eyes. "What's the matter?" She looks down at my hand and back up at my face. "Did I do that?" She thinks she shot my hand.
I nod and laugh quietly. "No, babe." I wipe my hand off on my pants and turn around. "It's my head."
"Where's the first-aid stuff?" she asks, urgency filling her voice.
"In my bag." Reese runs over to my bag, rummaging through it. She pauses for a minute while she's in there and I know the first aid shit was right on top, so she shouldn't be having much trouble finding it.
She still hasn't moved. I hear her unfolding paper. What the hell? Why now? I move up behind her, tearing the paper out of her hand. "I just need you to help me with my head." I shove the paper into my back pocket. Damn, I can't keep much from this girl.
"What is that?" she asks.
"My head, please," I say, although it comes out more as a growl.
"It looked like directions. Do you know how to get out of here?" she asks.
It's the question I've asked myself hundreds of times, yet the only information Mom left for me makes no goddamn sense.
"No. Just, Jesus, can you help me or not?" She presses on my shoulders, forcing me to sit in front of her feet. She squats down behind me and I can feel her eyes inspecting whatever the damage must look like. It can't be good if she's looking at it as long as she is. "Am I dying, or what?"
"It's infected," she says quietly. I can't say I'm surprised. The ache has been running down my back for hours, but I've done my best to ignore it. Being inside of her made forgetting about it pretty easy. Although I think if I suggested that as a quick fix right now, she'd probably just call me an asshole again. "This is going to hurt."
"It already hurts," I remind her.
