Page 52 of Fight Or Flight

“It’s the middle of March, it’s probably arctic.”

She elbows me.

“Chicken.”

Yeah, now would be a good time to cut her off. Fuck the fire department. If she keeps drinking, I’ll have to call the Coast Guard. I take the beer from her and she turns her head to protest, but I lift it to my lips and drain the bottle.

“Maybe you’re not a chicken after all,” she teases.

Setting the empty beer bottle on the other side of me, I turn back to her and wrap my arms around her, pulling her close so she’s settled between my legs, her back pressed against my front. Her body suddenly goes stiff in my arms.

“Not a chicken,” I hum against her ear.

She glances over her shoulder and our eyes lock.

“So, you’ll go swimming with me?” she questions.

“Sure,” I reply with a nod. “In the summer.”

“Will you even be here then?”

I tear my eyes away from her to see if anyone heard her question, but the girls are still dancing around in the sand and Danny is too busy rolling a blunt to give a damn about anything else. Bringing my eyes back to her, I notice the frown on her lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that,” she whispers. “No one here knows your plans, do they?”

I shake my head.

“It’s fine.” I’m not entirely sure why I’m keeping it a secret. I’ll be eighteen soon enough and with graduation near, my parents are going to expect me to decide on a college. I guess I figured I’d drop the bomb then—no pun intended.

But to answer Brooklyn’s question, the odds of me being here this summer are slim to none. Basic training is normally ten weeks long, but since I’m interested in infantry, it’ll likely be closer to fourteen weeks and the plan is to enlist right after I’m finished with school. The thought of not being able to swim with her doesn’t sit well, and it makes me wonder what else I’ll be missing.

“Yo,” Danny calls, interrupting my thoughts. Lifting my head, I find him standing in front of us, holding a blunt. I might’ve stood a chance of rejecting his offer if it wasn’t for the grim truth weighing on my mind. Instead, I quickly unravel my arms from Brooklyn’s body and take the blunt. She moves, so she’s sitting beside me and watches me intently as I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my lips around the end of the blunt. Desperate to clear my head, I hit it hard. The smoke burns my throat and instead of focusing on all I’ll be missing; I lock eyes with what’s right in front of me.

Her.

Right here.

Right now.

I drag the blunt away from my lips and a cloud of smoke trails past my lips as I pass it to her. She stares at it for a beat, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. Reading the hesitation in her eyes, I ask, “You’ve never smoked before, have you?”

She shakes her head and releases her lip.

“I swear I’m not a prude. It’s just…well…you know.” Her voice fades as she diverts her eyes to the empty beer bottle. She lifts it and I open my mouth to remind her I finished it, but I lose my will to speak the second her lips wrap around the bottle. Her head tilts back, revealing her neck, and my eyes take in the smooth span of skin.

I’ve never wanted to mark something so badly.

Frowning, she lowers the empty bottle and glances back at the blunt.

Her eyes meet mine and she holds out her hand to take the blunt from my fingertips.

“Show me how to do it,” she whispers.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or if it's knowing that our time is limited, but all my common sense seems to flee me. I don’t give a fuck if we’re being reckless. I don’t care about anything but the here and now.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I say as I lay my legs flat in the sand. “Come here,” I say, motioning to my lap.

Her hooded eyes widen slightly, but she obliges and straddles my lap. I close my eyes for a second, my senses on overload as I will my dick not to react.

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