Page 62 of Little Bird
And when the sun rises fully and breaks through the mist still laying on the ground, he turns his face to it, closes his eyes, and breathes out softly, like he’s releasing tension he didn’t realize he was holding onto.
Like something—or someone—has finally found the spot that was hurting and pressed their knuckles into it, allowing him to relax for the first time in years.
Taryn
“What the fuck are you doing?”
The question is sudden and unexpected and happens right as I’m reaching too far for it to be a good idea, and I immediately slip on the stool I’ve been using to reach the higher shelves. My ankle gives and the stool scoots out from under me, and the next thing I know there’s nothing under my feet and I’m falling sideways.
Strong arms grab me before I can fall, though, and set me gently on the ground, and I take a moment to get my feet under me—literally—and then punch the man who caused the situation in the first place.
“Ow!” Gabe shouts, grabbing at the arm I just hit. “What was that for? I just kept you from falling on your ass!”
“You caused me to nearly fall on my ass!” I retort. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone who’s obviously doing something?”
“Well, what are you doing, anyhow? Why are you in here?”
His face tells me that he thinks I just proved his point, and I nearly punch him again. Then I decide that punching him won’t do me any good, because he won’t admit that he did anything wrong and will just think he can keep going around scaring people.
Besides, it’s more fun to make him pay for his mistakes another way.
“I’m cataloging the food we have,” I say, gesturing at the shelves of the pantry. I kick the stool out of the way, grab him, and yank him toward me. “And as long as you’re here, you can help. Get everything off the top shelf and put it on a lower shelf, so I can reach it.”
He stares at me, shocked at the demand, and I see the moment he realizes he’s been tricked. His eyes blink rapidly and he opens his mouth to argue, but I’m ready. I bat my eyelashes at him and twist a bit, looking up at him like I’ve never seen anyone so handsome in my entire life.
“Please, Gabe? It’ll keep me from having to climb on that stool again.”
He narrows his gaze, seeing right through me. “That’s cheating.”
I put on my most innocent look. “Cheating? I’m just asking you to save me from a potentially dangerous situation. Unless you’d rather I fall.”
I stoop and start to drag the stool back over, making sure to demonstrate how wobbly it is, but before I can take a step onto it he’s kicked it out of the way again. He gives me another narrow-eyed stare, his feelings written all over his face, and starts pulling things down off the top shelf.
“Cheater,” he mutters.
I shrug. “All’s fair in love and war, my friend. Use that spot that I cleared out right there.”
Within ten minutes he’s removed everything from the top shelf, which I can’t reach, and put it on a shelf that’s within range of my shorter frame. I start going through the food there, checking expiration dates and throwing out anything that’s too old.
“You asked me to get food down so you can throw it out?” he asks, scandalized.
“No, but a lot of this stuff is from—” I glance at the crackers in my hand. “—Five years ago! Jesus Christ, these have been here since I lived here! I might have bought these!”
He snatches them out of his hand and looks down. “Doubtful. I don’t remember you doing much shopping when you were here. I don’t remember you doing anything helpful, actually.”
I snatch the box back. “Probably because you were too busy flirting with Sally Hennings to notice what I was doing.”
Now he really does look scandalized. And offended. And something I can’t put my finger on. Sally Hennings was the girl he quasi-dated in high school, though, and I can’t understand what he has against me mentioning her.
“I did not flirt with Sally Hennings so much that I didn’t notice what you were doing,” he mutters.
“Um, you did. You two were always out here making eyes at each other. Or up in your room making?—”
I don’t get to finish the sentence because something flashes across his face and he moves, pinning me against the shelves behind me in a single move.
“Making what?” he breathes, like I just insulted his mother and he’s challenging me to a duel at dawn.
I forget how to breathe. True, a couple nights ago Gabe and I were lying in his closet, his head on my chest and his nightmares surrounding us, but I don’t think I’ve seen him this intense since... ever. I’ve never seen him this intense. His eyes are blue fire, his skin so hot it feels like it would burn me if I got close enough to touch it. I don’t have any skin-to-skin contact with him, but I can feel his heat seeping through the fabric of my shirt, and I suddenly realize that every inch of him is hard as rock. I’ve seen him without his shirt on and know that he’s all muscle these days, but feeling that muscle pressed against me suddenly feels overwhelming.
