Page 90 of Fight Or Flight

There are no guarantees in life. This ball can roll into the street and a car can strike me down as I retrieve it. When the clock runs out, there is no overtime. The game is over. But my brother doesn’t give me a chance to tell him that. Instead, he brings his eyes back to mine and drops the ball, letting it bounce between us.

“You don’t have to join the Army to be a hero, Eric,” he chokes. “You’ve been my hero my whole life.”

I feel those words in my gut and it’s like I swallowed a million knives. For as long as I can remember my dad preached about brotherhood and whenever Rob and I fought, he’d reprimand us and say we shouldn’t fight, that it wasn’t part of the plan. They had four kids so that we’d always have one another. Someone to play with not fight with.

Then mom would rebut that and tell us he only said those things because he was an only child and despite having a fleet of brothers, he didn’t understand. Siblings fight, she’d say. It’s how they show their love. Dad didn’t realize he and mom gave us so much more than playmates. Especially when it comes to me and Rob. I love Anthony and Bella, but Rob and I…we’ve got a different kind of relationship. Maybe it’s because we’re so close in age—I don’t know—but it’s a bond that can’t be broken.

Not by distance.

Not by war.

I may be his hero, but he’s my best fucking friend.

“Robert,” I start, but he quickly interrupts me.

“I give you shit because you’re older and it’s my job to torture you, but there isn’t a person on this whole fucking planet that I look up to more. I think what you’re doing is amazing, I just hate that I can’t come along.”

This fuck is going to make me cry.

“I’m sorry I called you a selfish prick,” he sighs. “You’re not selfish, but you’re a total prick.”

That makes me laugh and I pull him toward me. He resists because again, he’s a twat, but I’m bigger. Stronger. A selfish prick who hugs his brother tight, and I’m not sorry for it either. Life is short and there are no guarantees.

* * *

My talkwith Rob made me realize I needed to spend more time with my siblings before I left for basic, so after I scored the winning shot, I left Robert in the driveway and went in search of Bella. I made her pick out a story for me to read to her. Brooklyn was still getting ready, and at this rate, my little sister could’ve asked me to read her one of those old school encyclopedias and my girlfriend would still ask for another five minutes by the time I closed the book. But Bella didn’t pick an encyclopedia, she wanted her big brother to read her a fairytale. A book where the hero gets the girl and they live happily ever after. The book my sister picked had all that, but it wasn’t a traditional storybook. It was a scrapbook my mom had given to my dad on their tenth wedding anniversary. The hero was no prince, and the girl was prettier than any princess. Every page had handwritten notes from my mom to my dad and pictures that told the story of how they became Kitten and Tiger.

On the last page, there were no pictures, just words.

When you find the one, time stands still.

They were wise words and fucking true too.

Time has officially stopped in the back seat of my mom’s Range Rover. I no longer give a shit if Brooklyn and I miss the previews of the movie—I won’t even be here to take her to see any of those movies, anyway. I’m not worried about the long lines at the concession stand either—the promise of buttered popcorn and Sour Patch Kids can wait.

Nothing outside this truck exists.

Threading my fingers through Brooklyn’s hair, I pull her mouth down to mine. Her warm, wet pussy slides over my cock, and her nails dig into my shoulders as she chases her orgasm and rocks her hips.

Such a pretty little hurricane.

Yeah, when you meet the one, time stops all right.

I untangle my fingers from her hair and reach for her ass, grabbing and squeezing each globe as I arch off the leather seat and push deeper. She clenches around me and with no worry of anyone but the people in the parking lot hearing her, she goes off like a firecracker.

She lights up my whole fucking sky.

Flips my whole world upside down.

Her tight pussy tremors around my cock and it’s all over for me. There’s no holding back. My fingers dig into her ass cheeks as I drop my head to her shoulder and let go. I come hard and long…so long that I wish I had a fucking stopwatch because I’m pretty sure I just broke the book of Guinness World Records with that orgasm.

Seriously, is there someone I can call?

Brooklyn goes lax on my lap, my dick still buried inside her as she pulls away and pushes the hair away from her face. Her eyes find mine and a grin spreads across her lips.

“That was good, like really good,” she exclaims. Her tongue sneaks out of her mouth and runs along her lips. “Did you like it?”

She may be new to this, but my little hurricane is a quick learner and an A-plus student. Where I’ve spent countless hours of my teenage years slapping my dick to free porn I’ve found on the internet, she’s getting her education in the back seat of my mom’s Range Rover. It’s a beautiful thing.

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