Page 26 of Manhattan Tormentor
To occupy my hands and my thoughts, I pull out a slimline digital Sony camera from my jacket. It’s become a habit to always have it on me. I use other lenses for my portfolio photos. What started as a hobby has become a passion.
I wait for the guy to finish serving the hungry masses, and I angle the camera onto the lit counter and take a picture of the popcorn machine as it begins to spit out corn like a fountain. Next, I notice a pair of red kicks with silver laces. A kid is waiting in line holding the hand of an old guy, grandad probably. The laces trail on the rusty red carpet that’s in need of renewing. Five fast snaps later, I hear, “sorry about that, bro. This place is always busy. You got something for me?”
I slap his hand and pass over the baggie of blow. He grins and shoves it in his pants pocket.
The arcade is a rat’s nest of kids everywhere, but I hear a familiar voice that arrests my chest on my way out. How I hear him I don’t know because the techno music is loud and so are the brats spending their allowance.
Pausing my step, I seek the voice.
It’s easy to see Sage. He splits off from his brother and heads in the opposite direction.
I follow without thought. Like a dumbass tugged by an invisible queer rope.
Of the women who have tried to get me under their control, it’s a fucking guy who has me following him like a stalking idiot.
Watching him buying tokens, my exhales become slower.
I’m taking pictures of him without thought.
Of his long fingers and veined hands. The lock of his blond hair falling over the side of his face. I take so many fast pictures, I really am a stalker.
My anger fuels inside me and when he turns around, I’m there to bump him with my chest, snarling in his face.
“Playing kids’ games, Damsel? Should’ve known.”
I watch his eyes dilate when he realizes it’s me and it puts immediate fire through me. They’re so blue andexpressive. My fingers itch to pull my camera out again and take close snaps of him.
He has a perfect mouth.
What the fuck am I saying?
It’s purely a photographic interest, nothing more.
Yeah, that’s it.
“Hello, Finn. Fancy meeting you here at a place of fun. Not frightened you’ll get outed?”
The way he smiles when he says it, I turn all that aroused fire to pure ice and I shove him. His subtle meaning is very clear.
The little shit has me over a barrel, and that never happens to me. I’m Finn fucking Maverick, I do the blackmailing.
Anger rushes through me like wildfire, being called out by someone like him.
Ano one.
A no one I can’t stop thinking about and who I want to taste again.
Once more.
Right here.
I even take a step forward to ram my mouth up against his until clarity clangs inside my head and I move away a few steps.
“You sanctimonious prick, how does it look up there on your high horse?”
“Looks good, know why? I’m not hiding behind a lie. So scared of what inconsequential people will think about me.”
“We’re not all you, Sage… you know nothing about me.”
