Page 69 of Life To My Flight

Was I ready for that?

Was he worth it?

The throb between my legs pulsed with the aftershocks of our coupling, reminding me of what we’d just shared together.

It was good.

Really good.

And I wanted him.

I missed him when he wasn’t there.

I’d missed him for a whole year.

Reaching my closet, I found the box in question.

It was a normal brown box.

Nothing special about it, but it meant something.

Something huge.

Taking the last step, I opened the box.

***

Rue

“Where are we going?” I asked for the fifth time.

I looked down at my boots that were now caked in mud, and grinned.

We were on the back of Cleo’s bike, but we were driving slower than hell, and had been for nearly twenty minutes.

I’d lost track of the amount of times we’d taken a turn where I hadn’t realized that a turn was even possible.

“Few more minutes,” he said shortly.

Uh-oh. Was he mad that I wouldn’t shut up?

He’d been snappy since we’d left my place, and I didn’t know what to think of a pissy Cleo.

I’d only been around him when he was in a good mood.

This was a new side of him that I wasn’t sure that I liked.

“Whatever,” I snapped back.

He pulled over to the side of the road, turned the bike off, and stood quickly.

I hadn’t even had time to realize that he was stopping until he was already three feet away from me.

“What’s your fucking problem?” I yelled, tired of his attitude.

He stopped and put his hands up on his head.

“I’m just...I need you...I’m confused,” he finally decided.

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