‘You don’t even know me.’ She smiles rather sadly. ‘Not anymore. This job has sucked the fun out of me.’
‘Bullshit. You’re witty and sharp, and you’re so fucking pretty.’ Without realising it, I lean forward, pressing my lips into her hair.Who the fuck did this to you?
‘Maybe when I’m not working all the hours, and I’m always working. My regular hours are pretty bad, too. I can’t tell you the number of anniversaries I’ve missed, birthday parties, weddings, and shit. It was never on purpose. It’s just, in my line of work, I can’t leave just because the clock reads five.’
‘Only an arsehole wouldn’t get that. Babies aren’t born during office hours. It’s all part of the job, though, isn’t it? It’s what you signed up to do. Your duty.’
‘I don’t suppose I need to talk to you about duty, do I?’ She reaches a languid hand, poking me gently in the chest. ‘Is that why you joined the Army? A sense of duty?’
‘Nah.’ I draw out the word, having not even the least intention of being honest. ‘Chicks dig a bloke in uniform.’
‘Always with the quip,’ she says with a sigh. ‘But I guess you understand better than most. You know, in your line of work.’
I nod, realising she can’t see me agreeing. ‘Yeah, I get it. And someday, you’ll meet a man who’s right for you, and he’ll get it, too.’
She’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that I feel the pinch of her silence like an ache in my chest. We hardly discussed the parameters of today. I truly hadn’t expected her to react the way she did. I expected her to brush me off a few more times at least. I don’t want to hurt her, but a relationship with a man like me would only hurt her more in the end. I’m so caught up in my own fears, I almost don’t realise as she begins to speak.
‘I’m not sure there’s a man out there for me. But maybe,’ she adds, ‘if there is, I hope his skills in the kitchen are as good as you’ve shown me today.’
‘Nowthat’sprobably a tall order. A good man might be hard to find, but a good, hard man—’
‘I might’ve known,’ she drawls, ‘you weren’t being nice but only feeding your own ego.’
‘Ow, what the fuck!’ I squeak as she pinches my nipple.
‘I thought you liked it rough.’ Her body shakes against my chest as she begins to giggle.
‘I like to fuck rough, but my ego is delicate,’ I retort.
‘Delicate, my ass,’ she scolds. ‘You’re a compliment whore.’
‘Agreed, but that’s your fault.’
‘My fault?’ she begins, twisting her body to look at me.
‘When you spend your whole life feeling like the ugly duckling and basically being ignored—’
‘Don’t you dare!’ This time, she pokes me in my thigh, and my cock twitches under the sheet.
‘—by the one person you’re desperate for attention from.’
‘Asshole!’ she chastises softly. ‘Ignoring you was a protection mechanism. It was my version of not poking the bear.’
Speaking of bears, or bare. Random thought: I kind of love that she doesn’t look like a pre-teen. I dig the neat little triangle and love the smooth underneath, ripe for the glide of my tongue.
Back to our usual programming...
‘It had everything to do with protecting myself,’ she continues.
‘I was misunderstood,’ I reply, my tone pouty and sad even as I relish the heat in her comebacks.
‘You were a horrid, mean little boy who chased me with worms and killed my fish.’
I bark out a laugh. ‘I didn’t kill your fucking fish!’ Oh, God. I’d forgotten about this.
‘Yeah, you did. I watched you flush Swim Shady down the pan!’
‘Jesus Christ.’ I rub my palm down my bristled face. I walked right into this one. ‘You killed your fish,’ I reply, reining in my amusement. ‘I was just trying to save you from the painful realisation that you were a murderer.’ While also saving Melody from an afternoon spent at a goldfish funeral, with mourning wear, hymns, and a matchbox coffin. And for that, she gave me her pocket money for the week.
