the two of them.
“I’m adding the blanket to the burn list,” I
say under my breath.
Fletch beams me in the face with the pillow
he just employed as a penis protector.
I toss it back in the event he discovers a
creative need for it before heading off to find Laken.
Fletch has more than his fair share of balls
to sleep with Carter, front and center, in the common room—either
that or he’s dumb as a post. If he gets caught, they could both get
tossed out on their bare-naked asses.
The clanging of pots and pans fills my ears
as I take in the scene from the kitchen.
Flynn has his hands up like there’s a
hostage situation underway while Laken turns two long-handled pots
into a pair of annoying gongs.
“What the heck?” I shout, speeding over.
It’s only then I notice Hattie cowering in the corner, looking
scared as all hell with her arms up over her head. “Whoa!” I disarm
Laken before she commits a culinary-based felony. “What’s going
on?”
Flynn jumps up, pumped with adrenaline. “I
was making out with this chick, and your psycho girlfriend storms
in and starts banging pots and pans in our ears like its fucking
New Year’s Eve. You’d better call Flanders and tell him to set up a
permanent bed at the palace for the mentally unstable.”
Coop’s grandfather started up the psych
hospital, and ironically I’d like nothing more than for his
grandson to take up residency there.
Laken snatches a dirty steak knife from the
counter before I can defend her mental stability and darts over to
Hattie like she’s about to decapitate her.
“ Laken !” I dive over the island and
knock her down in a play that could rival any move made on that
field tonight. She struggles free, sending the blade sliding up my
cheek.
“Shit!” She drops the knife and covers her
mouth in horror. “Oh my God, Wes, I’m so sorry.”
“We’re out of here,” Flynn says, moving
Hattie toward the door. “Lay off the booze, girl.” He shouts to
Laken. “You’re one mean drunk.”
“Wait, Flynn, she’s…” Laken folds into me
helpless as they walk out of sight. “She’s not human.”
I touch my cheek and examine the pink stain
on my fingers.
“You’re cut.” Her voice quivers as she lays
her hand over mine.
“It’s just a graze. I’ll do more damage with
a razor in the morning.” I get up and help her to her feet. “What
did you mean she’s not human?” God knows we have enough of that
floating around in our world for me to consider it an option.
“She’s”—Laken shakes her head as if
searching for answers—“a real bitch. I saw her hanging all over
some guy back at Henderson. Her tongue was in his ear, and it was
just sick. I don’t like her messing with Flynn like that. He seems
like a nice guy.” She pinches her shoulders to hers ears as if she
were stressed beyond belief.
“What?” I pull her in and melt a kiss over
her lips. “Trust me. Nobody wants to be taken advantage of more
than Flynn. He’s anti-monogamy—roaming hands don’t offend him.
Now—pots and pans might offend him if they’re used in an effort to
stop him from hitting a homerun. I think you should let Flynn worry
about Flynn. But that’s what I like about you best.” I run my hand
up her cheer sweater and adhere to her heated skin. “You care about
how other people feel.”
“You’re right, Wes.” She gives a limp smile.
“I absolutely hate the thought of someone being taken advantage of.
It kills me to know there are people being used—abused and tortured
in this world, especially when I can’t do a damn thing about it.”
She buries a hard look into me as if she were wielding that knife
all over again.
I clear my throat.
Just hearing those words makes me think of
those kids down in the Celestra tunnels. I’ve seen their long
faces, their hollow eyes that let you know they miss living—that
they’ve already died on the inside.
Laken freezes like she’s having a
seizure—probably envisioning
“I’m adding the blanket to the burn list,” I
say under my breath.
Fletch beams me in the face with the pillow
he just employed as a penis protector.
I toss it back in the event he discovers a
creative need for it before heading off to find Laken.
Fletch has more than his fair share of balls
to sleep with Carter, front and center, in the common room—either
that or he’s dumb as a post. If he gets caught, they could both get
tossed out on their bare-naked asses.
The clanging of pots and pans fills my ears
as I take in the scene from the kitchen.
Flynn has his hands up like there’s a
hostage situation underway while Laken turns two long-handled pots
into a pair of annoying gongs.
“What the heck?” I shout, speeding over.
It’s only then I notice Hattie cowering in the corner, looking
scared as all hell with her arms up over her head. “Whoa!” I disarm
Laken before she commits a culinary-based felony. “What’s going
on?”
Flynn jumps up, pumped with adrenaline. “I
was making out with this chick, and your psycho girlfriend storms
in and starts banging pots and pans in our ears like its fucking
New Year’s Eve. You’d better call Flanders and tell him to set up a
permanent bed at the palace for the mentally unstable.”
Coop’s grandfather started up the psych
hospital, and ironically I’d like nothing more than for his
grandson to take up residency there.
Laken snatches a dirty steak knife from the
counter before I can defend her mental stability and darts over to
Hattie like she’s about to decapitate her.
“ Laken !” I dive over the island and
knock her down in a play that could rival any move made on that
field tonight. She struggles free, sending the blade sliding up my
cheek.
“Shit!” She drops the knife and covers her
mouth in horror. “Oh my God, Wes, I’m so sorry.”
“We’re out of here,” Flynn says, moving
Hattie toward the door. “Lay off the booze, girl.” He shouts to
Laken. “You’re one mean drunk.”
“Wait, Flynn, she’s…” Laken folds into me
helpless as they walk out of sight. “She’s not human.”
I touch my cheek and examine the pink stain
on my fingers.
“You’re cut.” Her voice quivers as she lays
her hand over mine.
“It’s just a graze. I’ll do more damage with
a razor in the morning.” I get up and help her to her feet. “What
did you mean she’s not human?” God knows we have enough of that
floating around in our world for me to consider it an option.
“She’s”—Laken shakes her head as if
searching for answers—“a real bitch. I saw her hanging all over
some guy back at Henderson. Her tongue was in his ear, and it was
just sick. I don’t like her messing with Flynn like that. He seems
like a nice guy.” She pinches her shoulders to hers ears as if she
were stressed beyond belief.
“What?” I pull her in and melt a kiss over
her lips. “Trust me. Nobody wants to be taken advantage of more
than Flynn. He’s anti-monogamy—roaming hands don’t offend him.
Now—pots and pans might offend him if they’re used in an effort to
stop him from hitting a homerun. I think you should let Flynn worry
about Flynn. But that’s what I like about you best.” I run my hand
up her cheer sweater and adhere to her heated skin. “You care about
how other people feel.”
“You’re right, Wes.” She gives a limp smile.
“I absolutely hate the thought of someone being taken advantage of.
It kills me to know there are people being used—abused and tortured
in this world, especially when I can’t do a damn thing about it.”
She buries a hard look into me as if she were wielding that knife
all over again.
I clear my throat.
Just hearing those words makes me think of
those kids down in the Celestra tunnels. I’ve seen their long
faces, their hollow eyes that let you know they miss living—that
they’ve already died on the inside.
Laken freezes like she’s having a
seizure—probably envisioning
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