Page 55 of Collateral Damage

My most resented day of the year. My jaw falls open, unable to close it, wandering over to the table trying to muster up the words to thank her but I'm unable to speak. I feel completely foolish with little to no make up on, no shoes or socks and no time to prepare for this. Meanwhile she’s stood there in a black shirt, most likely new, her black denim jeans and boots, cutting up vegetables with the sleeves rolled up and I suck my lips in, trying to ignore the fact that this is unnecessarily attractive.

She always slicks her hair back and I'm growing fonder of it by the minute. Everything about her is everything I would have resented. I was never one for the bad boys but I'm swooning like an idiot right now. She’s so dark and still full of mystery I desperately want to uncover.

“What is all this!” My hand takes the back of the chair, admiring the cute little red napkins and petals on the table.

“Well. I thought, as I couldn’t exactly take you out for Valentine Day, I’d bring Valentine's Day to you.” I frown with confusion. This is all so beautiful but why is she even going through all this for me?

“We aren’t even dating?”

“Does it matter?” No. But I hope she doesn't think we are. We are closer now, but we aren't that close. I've never been in any sort of relationship with anyone.

“I never took you for the romantic type.” A scary serial killer making me pancakes and doing a Valentines dinner is definitely not how I saw this turning out three months ago. I'll be honest, I thought I would be dead by now, if not from my own idiocy, then her getting sick of me.

“I’m not. I’ve never done this for anyone, so count yourself lucky.” I lace my hair through my fingers, tucking it behind my ear and a fire burns beneath my cheeks. There is something about seeing this sweetness in her that's sending me all sorts of crazy.

“I- I don’t even know what to say-” I take another look around, taking in the effort and holding back tears, imagining every birthday like this but being left with no one to share it with.

“You don’t need to say anything.Just sit.” I sit without hesitation. She's showing kindness but she's still so intimidating it makes my hair stand on end.

“Are you cooking what I think you’re cooking?” I see her grin from her side profile, the tea towel tossed over her shoulder like a professional and it's making me smile like a little girl. My head rests in the palm of my hands as my elbow leans on the dining room table.

“I told you. I’m the jack of all trades.” She did. I indeed underestimated her. I'm swimming in this overwhelming ecstasy.

“You didn’t have to do all this. This is too much.”

“Trust me. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t have. But you deserve this. You deserve some normalityAlora,” her words bleed into my lifeless bones, giving them strength again. I used to hate it when she said my name. But now it makes me swoon.It sounds so gentle from her mouth. She won’t admit it but she cares deeply, and this side of her is building my broken bridge. She pulls the tea towel from her shoulder quickly as she spins on her axis towards the fridge.“Which also means! We are going to break that alcohol virginity today.”How did she know I have never drunk alcohol?

“Mm, mm. Nope, absolutely not.” My Mother would turn in her grave.

“Come on! One drink won’t hurt.” She pulls one of her beers out, walking over to me and my chest locks with this pressure building between my thighs. That feeling again. That dull ache that subconsciously screams to be touched.

“I was always told it was dangerous.” Alcohol was a no go for multiple reasons.

“I never said it wasn’t. But you also want to live? Do you not?”Live? What has living got to do with consuming alcohol?

“And how exactly do they correlate?” My face scrunches, waiting for her to give me an answer as she gazes over my figure silently for a couple of seconds.

“Freedom. Living is all about escaping shackles.” She confuses me. She said freedom was not possible.

“I thought you didn’t believe in freedom?” She undoes the cap of the bottle with her teeth making mine itch before placing it in front of me.

“I don’t. But this is what your clouds up here are forLittle Dreamer.” Her index finger taps my head gently, trailing the tip down against my cheek, trying to read my thoughts as I stare at the bottle, enticing me with her touch to trust her.Is she trying to tell me that freedom lives inside of me?

“How do I know you haven't drugged it?” Realistically, I know she hasn't. She just opened it in front of me, but I still love to explore this bratty nature I seem to have acquired.

“You don't.”My eyes pulse. Hot waves surging through my insides. Why would she even say that? She still loves to instil this fear in me even though I know she won't hurt me anymore.

“You're not funny.” I grab the bottle, fiddling with it against my fingers, gathering the condensation as it wets the tips.

“As you keep saying.” Her arms cross, waiting for me to drink it and as if I didn't already feel intimidated enough.

I sip it, squinting as the bitter taste hits the back of my throat, swallowing its coarseness. It's definitely, different. But if it does help me chase some freedom then why not? She is staring at me with achievement and it's making me want to drink more. What even is that?Validation? Praise?

“Why sunflowers? They don’t exactly scream Valentines Day?” I ask curiously, staring at the beautiful shade of yellow,almost amber?

“They match your eyes.” Before I even have a chance to respond she stands up and makes her way back to the kitchen where she carries on with her cooking, leaving me with bottle in hand as one swig turns to five, that turns to ten, that turns to an empty bottle and I'm definitely feeling something. The smell of spaghetti Bolognese has never been more orgasmic as I sit here drooling, getting the munchies. I wait patiently for my dinner as I watch her and Shep be nothing but themselves, giving him all the love and tossing food into his mouth.

After what feels like four hours when it's probably been about fifty minutes, she begins to plate up and my tummy growls in the desolate silence of the kitchen.How embarrassing. This is probably the first proper meal besides take out and snacks I've had and I'm ready to devour this food if I can help it. She finally walks over, plates in hand as she presents it to me and either I'm already drunk, or that looks fucking fantastic.Who knew she had that in her.

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