don’t know. Why aren’t you?” I ask in all seriousness.
“ Hello? Sarcasm.”
“Never heard of it.” I chuckle, cutting the burger in half. I push the plate to the middle of the table. “Eat.”
With little reluctance, she picks up her half. After smothering it in what I’m sure’s nearly an entire bottle of ketchup, she takes a bite. I decide that I like watching Amber eat. I like it a lot. I like watching her glossy lips move as she chews, her eyes fluttering closed as though she hasn’t eaten in days. I like the way she rolls her tongue over the corner of her mouth, sensually swiping away a small dot of ketchup. I like the way she feels sitting in front of me while she eats half my burger.
Great. I’ve turned into a freak with a fetish for watching Amber Moretti ingest food . . .
What I don’t like is the control she has over me. The unrelenting steel hand she has wrapped around both my dick and heart. Shedoesn’t know it, but she owns me, and I don’t even exist in her world. Christ. In less than thirty minutes, she’s disarmed me, fucking breaking down every molecule of who I’ve been for a while.
Only one girl was able to do that, and she shattered me, twisting my head in ways it’s never been twisted. Thus the reason I turned into what Amber would call a “certified prick.”
My story?
Boy meets girl, boy does what he has to do to get the girl, and the two fall in love. Fucking blissful.
The ending?
Boy walks in on his girl fucking the overaged, beer-belly-sporting father of a few kids she babysits for. Fucking hideous.
Messy break up for the boy and girl, and an even messier divorce for the cheating husband and his unsuspecting wife.
“You haven’t touched your half,” Amber points out, breaking my thoughts from a day I can’t forget fast enough. She continues, her voice flavored somewhere between stern and playful. “The least you can do, since you lied about being hungry to get me here and then put me under the spotlight in front of the whole diner, is take one tiny bite.” She shoves the remaining piece of her half into her mouth and sends me a smile.
Despite my stomach’s protest, I grin, pick up my disgustingly greasy half, and take a bite.
Amber sends me another smile before chugging back a sip of water. “Brothers, sisters, both, or only child?”
“Younger sister,” I answer, my heart caving in on itself. “She’s eight.”
“Does she drive you bat-shit crazy or something? Your whole demeanor just changed.” She sets down her glass. “In her defense, that’s a messy age for a girl. You’re just starting to become aware of your looks, these weird . . . things happening to your body, and how the world around you judges you based on your outer shell.” She shrugs. “At least that’s the way it feels. You’re trying to figure out where you fitin and who’ll accept you. Boys start clogging up your thoughts, which only further fucks the situation.” She playfully wags a finger at me. “It’s a confusing time for her, so be nice, big brother.”
I cringe, thinking about the cesspool of shit Casey’s going through on top of everything Amber pointed out. “Nah. Actually, she’s the coolest little girl around. I’d kill for her.”
Amber’s smile shifts to confusion. “Then why the look of disgust?”
“She has cancer. Acute lymphocytic leukemia, to be exact.” Just saying it makes me feel as though I’m about to puke.
Amber’s shoulders fall, her lips parting. “My God,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry, Ryder. Is she—”
“They’re not sure.” I already know the question.
Death. Though plenty think they are, no one’s immune to it. Every breath we take is one step further from our birth . . . one step closer to our ultimate dismissal. The Reaper comes for each of us, and when he shows up, he lacks prejudice. But fuck if he should be allowed to steal the life of an eight-year-old girl who deserves everything under the stars. An
“ Hello? Sarcasm.”
“Never heard of it.” I chuckle, cutting the burger in half. I push the plate to the middle of the table. “Eat.”
With little reluctance, she picks up her half. After smothering it in what I’m sure’s nearly an entire bottle of ketchup, she takes a bite. I decide that I like watching Amber eat. I like it a lot. I like watching her glossy lips move as she chews, her eyes fluttering closed as though she hasn’t eaten in days. I like the way she rolls her tongue over the corner of her mouth, sensually swiping away a small dot of ketchup. I like the way she feels sitting in front of me while she eats half my burger.
Great. I’ve turned into a freak with a fetish for watching Amber Moretti ingest food . . .
What I don’t like is the control she has over me. The unrelenting steel hand she has wrapped around both my dick and heart. Shedoesn’t know it, but she owns me, and I don’t even exist in her world. Christ. In less than thirty minutes, she’s disarmed me, fucking breaking down every molecule of who I’ve been for a while.
Only one girl was able to do that, and she shattered me, twisting my head in ways it’s never been twisted. Thus the reason I turned into what Amber would call a “certified prick.”
My story?
Boy meets girl, boy does what he has to do to get the girl, and the two fall in love. Fucking blissful.
The ending?
Boy walks in on his girl fucking the overaged, beer-belly-sporting father of a few kids she babysits for. Fucking hideous.
Messy break up for the boy and girl, and an even messier divorce for the cheating husband and his unsuspecting wife.
“You haven’t touched your half,” Amber points out, breaking my thoughts from a day I can’t forget fast enough. She continues, her voice flavored somewhere between stern and playful. “The least you can do, since you lied about being hungry to get me here and then put me under the spotlight in front of the whole diner, is take one tiny bite.” She shoves the remaining piece of her half into her mouth and sends me a smile.
Despite my stomach’s protest, I grin, pick up my disgustingly greasy half, and take a bite.
Amber sends me another smile before chugging back a sip of water. “Brothers, sisters, both, or only child?”
“Younger sister,” I answer, my heart caving in on itself. “She’s eight.”
“Does she drive you bat-shit crazy or something? Your whole demeanor just changed.” She sets down her glass. “In her defense, that’s a messy age for a girl. You’re just starting to become aware of your looks, these weird . . . things happening to your body, and how the world around you judges you based on your outer shell.” She shrugs. “At least that’s the way it feels. You’re trying to figure out where you fitin and who’ll accept you. Boys start clogging up your thoughts, which only further fucks the situation.” She playfully wags a finger at me. “It’s a confusing time for her, so be nice, big brother.”
I cringe, thinking about the cesspool of shit Casey’s going through on top of everything Amber pointed out. “Nah. Actually, she’s the coolest little girl around. I’d kill for her.”
Amber’s smile shifts to confusion. “Then why the look of disgust?”
“She has cancer. Acute lymphocytic leukemia, to be exact.” Just saying it makes me feel as though I’m about to puke.
Amber’s shoulders fall, her lips parting. “My God,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry, Ryder. Is she—”
“They’re not sure.” I already know the question.
Death. Though plenty think they are, no one’s immune to it. Every breath we take is one step further from our birth . . . one step closer to our ultimate dismissal. The Reaper comes for each of us, and when he shows up, he lacks prejudice. But fuck if he should be allowed to steal the life of an eight-year-old girl who deserves everything under the stars. An
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