Fiona jolted and pulled up her pants.
Dig fixed a picture frame on the wall that had turned at an angle.
“Tommy!” I searched his arm before he was able to pack himself away. “You’re alive!”
“Get off me!” He pushed me aside, potent fear on his face.
Dig growled and pulled out a knife. “You touch my girl, I touch you.”
“She touchedme!”
“And that’s a fucking privilege.”
Fiona and I smiled at each other, only briefly, our friendship was not strong enough to endure more than a one-second smile.
“I can’t believe you’re safe,” I said to Fiona.
“I can’t believeyou’resafe,” Fiona said back. “I’m a trained hunter, you’re an idiot.”
“Are you okay?” I asked Tommy. “I heard you got injured. I’ve come to take you to the hospital.”
“I’m fine.” He rubbed the bandage on his arm. “It was just a graze.”
“Good.” I nodded quickly. “Then I’ll take you back to Dig’s apartment. We have food and water and safe shelter there. You’ll be safe Tommy. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Uh, we got food and water here.” Fiona stuck her thumb to the kitchen. “And I’ve already rigged this place with some decent traps. Tomorrow’s the last day of the Battle, it would be safest if we stayed here for the night.”
I pursed my lips. “Huh, okay.”
Dig sighed and looked to me. “You’re telling me this whole time these guys were safe, and we could have stayed at my apartment and had shower sex?”
Dig and I took the spare room.
Furnished with a queen-sized bed in cotton sheets and bedside tables with matching flower lamps. I pulled back the paisley printed curtains to let in the last drops of sunlight. Since Dig had made me dinner, I thought I’d surprise him with my own cooking skills. Tommy and Fiona continued with their escapades in the main bedroom, and I got to work in the kitchen.
I dumped the contents of cans and fresh picked herbs into a bowl and stirred it around with a smile, presenting it neatly on a plate and brought it to Dig.
He sat on the edge of the mattress in the bedroom. Smooth muscle cut into his flesh along with a tapestry of tattoos and scars, marking him into a warrior. He finished padding a stab wound with rubbing alcohol.
“I made you dinner.” I presented him my gift. “You cooked for me, now it’s my turn.”
He looked down at the plate and back up to me. He looked down and back up a second time. “You made this?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“To… eat?”
“Yes, to eat.”
“You want me to eat this?”
“Yes.”
He looked down at the plate again and back up to me. “Yeah, alright.”
