Page 42 of Sink With Me

She pushes at my chest, making me laugh as I turn towards the wall of the living area in front of the bed. To most, it probably looks like cabinets or a closet, but as I slide them open, she gasps. I turn to see her shadow sprint across the room with God knows what in her arms and gin in her hand, barely giving me the chance to register her jumping on top of the bed.

“Where’s the remote?” She exclaims while laying out numerous bags in front of her, clinging to a jar of pickles like it’ll disappear if she puts it down.

“Oh no, you’re not picking what we watch.” I mumble as I sit on the other edge of the bed and untie my boots. She’s so still beside me that if she didn’t keep up so much space in my head, I’d forget she was even there. I peer over my shoulder to look at her. She’s staring at me, brows pinched and lips in a tight line. Just as quickly as her scowl comes it fades, replaced with that cocky smirk I’m sure I’ve memorized by now.

“Don’t you have any manners? I’m a guest, I get to choose—unless I’m still a prisoner.”

Just as she finishes the sentence, the popping of the jar’s lid fills the space with an ungodly smell. She’s trying to twist my arm and she’s doing a damn good job, because one thing is for sure, manners are paramount. I reach into my nightstand drawer and throw the remote behind me, earning a very excited squeal. I guess it didn’t hit her in the head like I intended.

“So, you were jealous earlier?” I question while unbuttoning my shirt. Even if she’s here, I’m not going to start living any differently. That means I will be sleeping in my boxers. If she wants to fight me on it, then she can sleep on the floor. Who am I kidding? I’ll tie her to the bedpost before I do that, mainly because I don’t want to prove my insanity by beating the shit out of a floor for making her back hurt. What the fuck has happened to me?

A candy bar hits the back of my head, making me laugh. I’m sure she was expecting me to wince or scowl, but I can’t help it.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

"Whatever you say, little siren.”

Date: 5-14-2024

Time: 1704

I wasn’t jealous, and yes, I’m still seething over that comment even two hours later. Everything feels so different. I want to blame it on my feminine side. The part of me that begs for a normal life and real human connections. I want to be able to feel everything I'm supposed to at twenty-four years old: joy, irritation, excitement, hurt. But I don't know how to project those notions. I was taught not to have them, they've always stayed. Judging by the chest-shaking laughs and tension lining Tide's shoulders every so often I think I've been doing it right even if I know I shouldn't. Okay, so maybe I was jealous and this odd thing inside of me became determined to gain Tide's attention, but I will never admit that out loud.

Knowing me, I chose Game of Thrones. What can I say? It’s a comfort show and even while I haven’t shown it, I do indeed need comfort. I used to envy Karma or anybody for that manner for the confidence they had. I even used to mimic them, but once I had my own I felt free and uniquely me. It didn’t last for long. How do you stay yourself when everything you thought you knew completely changes?

No, wait, it didn’t change. This isn’t some fairy tale where the villain ends up being good. I’m not going to let him live because he’s a strategic soldier who knows all the right moments to plant false information in my head.

It’s kind of hypocritical to think the way I do while I’m lying beside him, fully stuffed with so much junk food I can’t even see and a little buzz of the half bottle of … What was it called? Gin. I wonder what my parents would say if they saw me now. Would they be upset?

Usually, I hate my quiet time being interrupted, but I don’t mind the dozens of questions he’s asked throughout it all. I’ve never truly had someone take an interest in something I like. Hopefully, he fell asleep because now I think I’ve let myself feel too much at once for the wrong person.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Nope, he’s not asleep but I still don’t want to look over at him. I hate how it seems like he can see through me some days. Taking a breath I look in his direction, I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol causing my cheeks to warm and my heart to race or if it’s seeing him laid on his side with his head propped on his hand. Every chiseled muscle of his chest flexes as he breathes and a stray wild hair falls over his brow.

”Is Moe your brother?” I ask, trying to come up with anything to keep myself from thinking about how much heat his body is radiating.

“Sort of.”

I let out a huff. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give me anything to go off of. A smile stretches across his mouth, turning higher on one side than the other.

“He was left at the front of the base when he was just a baby.”

“That’s sad.”

I turn fully to my side, mirroring his position. He chuckles with one of those half-hearted sounds. I can do this. Holding a conversation won’t hurt anything. He’s the enemy. I won’t focus on how the sheets make the green in his eyes pop.

“My mother brought him in, my father didn’t fight, the rest is history.”

I nod my head, understanding. I’ve never known much about his mother, all that was exposed was how she was the one who kept his father on a tight leash. From what I understand, they had a relationship like my parents. There was one file I came across long ago of his father waterboarding a man just for touching his mom the wrong way. My parents weren’t as violent, but it’s sweet in a sick, twisted way.

“He didn’t get much time with her, though. Cancer is the worst evil there is, I guess.” He pauses, shrugging the shoulder that isn’t relaxed on the bed. “Besides you, of course.”

I scrunch my nose, punching him in the chest. Instead of taking my chance to inflict pain, it is light. I can’t keep looking at his stupid face. He’s too distracting, yet I can’t tear myself away either.

“He likes you; you know?”

“I like him too. He doesn’t piss me off like you do.”

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