Page 98 of Fight Or Flight

Eric

Four months dwindled down two weeks and weeks soon turned to days and still, it didn’t hit me that I was leaving—until an hour ago when I brought my bags upstairs and laid them by the front door. There was something so final about seeing them there.

It’s crazy when you think about it—how something so simple can set things into perspective. I spent most of the week saying goodbye to everyone, and it was the sight of those bags that made my chest ache. In a couple of hours, my parents would drop me off at the airport.

There’s no turning back now—not that I’m having second thoughts or anything. I’m fully committed to the United States Army and even more excited to start my future, one I can share with Brooklyn and of course our fish, Splish and Splash.

It just sucks that I’m leaving them.

It’s always been in the back of my head, but I’ve been so focused on building a solid relationship with her and enjoying every fucking moment we have together, that I didn’t let myself acknowledge how leaving was actually going to feel.

It’s those fucking bags—they’re screwing with me.

“Did you set the alarm?” Brooklyn asks as she crawls into my bed. My eyes rake over her, taking in the cotton sleep shorts and the thin camisole that does a piss-poor job of covering her tits.

After she surprised me for my birthday, the parental units eased up on the no-sleepover policy and she’s been spending every night cuddled next to me. Knowing this is the last time in God knows how long that I’ll lay in bed with her makes me want to throw up. I lift my head and our eyes lock.

How the fuck am I going to do this? How am I going to leave her? All my reasons for joining the Army suddenly seem irrelevant.

“Yeah,” I rasp, forcing a swallow. My throat tightens and I hold out my hand. “C’mere.”

She throws one leg over me, straddling my lap as I sit up and comb my fingers through her hair.

“I know we said we were going to stay positive and all that, but I…” My voice trails as I lean my forehead against hers. “Tell me I’m making a mistake, Brooklyn. Tell me not to go, that you need me to stay. Say the word and I swear to God, I won’t go.”

I mean it. I’ll tear up the contract I signed with the Army and suffer the consequences. My grandma set me up with one of those 529 college funds that matured on my eighteenth birthday. I cashed it in because I wasn’t going to school and opened a bank account. I was planning on using that money to buy Brooklyn a ring after my Turning Blue ceremony, but I’ll take it and get us a studio apartment instead. We don’t need more than that yet, it’s just the two of us. Oh, and Splish and Splash—but fish food is cheap enough and I’ll get a job. I’ll get two jobs if I have to.

All she has to do is say stay, but she isn’t saying anything. Not a single word.

Why isn’t she saying anything?

“Brook?” I ask, searching her eyes—for what, I don’t know.

A sign.

A plea.

Something.

Anything.

I find nothing. Her eyes are void of emotion, her face expressionless as she raises her hands to my cheeks. Lips that were created solely for my pleasure, press against mine. It’s slow and desperate all the same. My lips part and her tongue slides into my mouth. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I take charge and deepen the kiss, lapping at her mouth, flicking my tongue over hers.

If kissing her was a drug, I’d die chasing the high.

She moans or maybe she whimpers, I can’t be sure—whatever it is, I eat it up. I pull one hand free from her hair and reach for the neckline of her camisole. Tugging the cotton down over her tits, my hand closes around one boob. Her nipple goes hard against my palm and I quickly tear my mouth away from hers, bending to suck the tiny bud between my teeth.

I nip at it, lick it, and suck harder. She goes crazy in my lap, gripping my shoulders and grinding her sweet pussy over my erection. My mouth moves to take her other nipple into my mouth, and I reach between us, sliding my hand inside her shorts.

No underwear.

Thank you, Jesus.

Cupping her pussy, my thumb finds her clit as the rest of my fingers circle the wetness dripping from the lips between her legs.

Tell me to stay.

Please tell me to stay.

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