Eye of the Hurricane

Home : Stories by Catw00man/Stories by Zippit : MBN Universe : Eye of the Hurricane

Summary: A day in the life of a bouncy ball.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: mbn@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
SERIES/SETTING: MBN Universe
CHARACTERS: Kevin Harvick, Casey Mears, Dale Earnhardt Jr, Kevin POV.
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #35 (#10 for me) - Bouncy Ball
COMPLETED: March 24, 2007, Revised November 22, 2009
WORDS: 5,892
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ok, this is more of the dark and twisted MBN Universe and takes place the weekend after the bar scene in Outsider and Insomnia.  This picks up with Jeff’s journal entry mentioned at the end of Insomnia. And bonus points for those who see that the summary isn’t exactly literal. :)
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Talladega Superspeedway: October 1st, 2005

God, sometimes I wish it was possible to turn my mind off, block out everything, and just be empty for once. I know…I’ve done it before. Hell, I did it for years. Why can’t I do it now? I swear I’d do anything to keep my mind from spinning and I’ve considered drinking myself blind...but I’m afraid of what would go through my head if I did.

I can’t go back to those nightmares again, not tonight. Not while I’m not alone. Not ever. They aren’t real. They can’t be. I swear every one I have makes me remember more and more and I just want to forget. I don’t want to admit it all happened, not after everything I’ve done to hide it. I don’t want to remember anymore.

But I did, and I am, and it’s so fucking vivid. So fucking real. Everything he did. Everything he made of me….

God, I just can’t do this. I can’t.

But as bad as all this is it’s not the part that’s destroying me the most.

I ended up watching part of Inside Nextel Cup yesterday and I almost lost it. Fuck…the look in Brian’s eyes, even though he did a pretty good job of trying to hide it, he couldn’t hide it from me. That look of pain deep in his eyes. I know it too fucking well. If they only knew…

How in the HELL could I have caused that?!?

How in the hell could I have gone so fucking insane? And what’s to keep me from losing my mind again? For me of all people to hurt him that way....

But it’s not just him. It’s Jimmie and Blake and Boston. God, will they ever know? In all this time I thought I was moving on, getting control of my life, moving past it…but instead I was becoming a monster. I was becoming him. How could I? How I could repeat it all? I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t even know it WAS happening.

I can’t do this. I just can’t.

Maybe enough Vicodin will block out the dreams.

I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m so fucking sorry.

~*~

I stare at the words on the computer screen for probably the dozenth time in the three days since I found his “accidental” post. And I know that’s what it has to be because the perfect one would never drop his guard where anyone could see. Especially not like this, not when it could be easily saved and used against him. Funny, and here I thought he didn’t have a soul to ache.

Drum my fingers repeatedly on the small table my laptop’s on and scan the words once more. I didn’t find his entry until I was heading out the door the other night. I was leaving him another note to let him know where I’d be in case he wanted to “accidentally” hook up again. It really is a sick little game of cat and mouse we play, but I guess it’s better than nothing. I mean, I know he’s using me, that he always has been, but…at least I get to be used. Not to mention he does have this way of possessing you completely, and I know, as twisted as it is, he needs it as much as I do.

Maybe that’s why I checked to make sure I was the only one who could see his entry. It gets out that he’s finally cracking he could lose his edge, and where would that leave me? Royally screwed…or maybe wishing to be screwed would be more like it. Besides, he can’t fall apart. Not now. He’s too strong for that now. Continue to drum my fingers on the table as my leg bounces without my realizing it.
 
Try to shrug off my thoughts and lean to the side to rummage through my computer bag. Dig around for my iPod, intending to update my playlist and maybe get my mind on something besides Wonderboy and his never-ending issues. I think I finally find it but then my fingers brush across a different object that brings a smile to my face. Wrap my hand around the small object and grin as I pull it out of the bag. I didn’t even realize one of these had gotten in there but I guess when you fill your father-in-law’s truck with 6200 bouncy balls…you’re bound to find some in odd places. Grin at the memory and start bouncing the ball off the wall, to the table, and then catch it before throwing it again.

Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch.

John Paul never knew what hit him when I loaded his Silverado up with these things. I’m just glad such a good prank actually ended up on tape. I guess having a camera crew follow you around for a week isn’t bad after all. I still laugh my ass off when I remember him digging those bouncy balls out of his truck like a dog digging for a bone and how they all rolled down the hill from the shop when he tore out of the parking lot. The roof really was the best vantage point and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. Maybe I should have a camera crew record all my pranks….

Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch.

A smile curls my lips as I start to plot out my next great prank. I’ve been thinking about getting the crew to help me team up on Todd, or maybe even Richard. But honestly, I need to start thinking about welcoming my rookie teammate for next year. I swear poor Clint isn’t even going to know wh--.

“For God’s sake, Kevin, would you stop that?”

The shrill feminine voice cuts through the small space of the coach and I deliberately bounce the ball again. Feign ignorance as she comes in from the bedroom and I look up at her. “Stop what, D?”

Thud, bounce, catch.

“You know what,” she snaps back and crosses her arms, blue eyes glittering angrily. Sigh at her hard look and toss the ball once more before catching it. Why does she always have to be such a hardass? It’s not like I’m hurting anything. I’m just trying to--.

“Why don’t you go to practice?” she says with clipped words and my head snaps around to stare at her again. “I could use a little peace around here for once.”

Start to snap back at her but as my thumb runs over the ball in my hand I decide to let it slide. Her dad hasn’t been well lately and if she doesn’t want me around…why should I be? I’ve got other places I can be. Shake my head and slam the laptop closed as I push myself to my feet.

“Fine, I’m outta here.” Slip the bouncy ball into my pocket. “Enjoy the silence,” I snap as I head out the door and turn for the garage. I don’t even hear her muffled reply as the door slides closed and I try to turn my thoughts to the upcoming practice and not dire journal entries and bitchy wives. They don’t matter. All that matters is here and now, and now means climbing in my car and driving fast.

~*~*~*~

An hour and a half later I’m pulling my car into the garage after one more meaningless Talladega drafting session. I swear all you do here is hold it wide open all the way around the track, so what’s the point in practice? The boys at the shop have already taken care of all the aerodynamics. What else are they expecting from me? The restrictor plates have done their job to “equalize the field” so my part is just keeping it off the wall until the race. Damn, I really hate plate tracks.

Kill the engine and tug off my helmet before removing the wheel and climbing from the car as my crew instantly gathers around to go over the car again. Slip out the window and chuckle to myself as I hear one of the boys teasing me already.

“So is 25th the best you can do out there, Cupcake?”

Turn, sliding on my hat, and shoot him a smirk as I reach in the car for my sunglasses. “Been talking to ‘Bob the Spotter’ have you?” Bob works for my Busch team and I honestly have no clue how he came up with that name for me. Maybe it’s my winning smile or charming personality? Grin a little more and tease back, “Maybe I’d do better if you guys would find me some more horse power. I feel like I need to get out and push.” There’s really nothing they can do with the weekend restrictions, but it’s still fun to give them a hard time.

“Yeah, maybe we could get Todd to find you a fuel advantage,” one of the mechanics teases referring to my Todd’s fine and suspension earlier in the season. I’ll give them this, they’re always trying to push the envelope…even when it occasionally gets us in trouble.

Reach into my pocket for the bouncy ball I was playing with earlier and fling it at my crew with no warning. Chuckle as my truck driver ducks and it sails head long into Todd. “Watch out,” I hear someone shout as I grin at Todd. “He’s probably loaded up with those things.” I don’t even know who sends the small rubber missile straight for my head and I barely manage to catch it. I’m about to send the ball back in the direction it came when I hear Todd’s low, gravely voice at my side.

“Kevin, would you let the boys do their work so we can get this thing ready for Happy Hour?” I hear annoyance in his voice and try to get him to lighten up. We’re just trying to have a little fun.

“Don’t worry about it, Berrier. I’m done for the day.” Turn around and lean against the car. “No point in getting wrecked in practice when it’s nothing but drafting anyway. Car’s gonna be fine for the race.” Toss the ball up and catch it in my hand as I smirk at Todd. “Relax. We’re good.”

“Then we need to start running through the final check lists for prerace. You and the boys can play later.” Frown as he all but dismisses me and clench my hand around the small rubber ball. I consider snapping back but suddenly it feels like there are too many eyes on me. That’s when I notice the SPEED camera crew at the entrance of the garage just waiting for me to cause a scene and make their day. Well, they’re gonna have to find another source of entertainment. I’m not in the mood to be their latest victim of sensationalist journalism. Not today.

Shoot Todd a long look and nod before heading deeper into the garage to avoid the media. “Just don’t miss anything,” I tell him flippantly as I leave the team to their own devices and try to find something else to take out my hyperactivity on.

Wander through the garage and pause only once when I spot the familiar red Budweiser Chevy. I stop beside his toolbox as I scan the area for Junior and grin when I see him standing alone. Maybe this day is looking up. Move around the large metal box towards him but then freeze, not getting more than a few steps.

The pillar separating garage stalls at the opening for his stall was blocking the person standing with him, and I feel dark eyes on me I didn’t even know were there. Shoot Martin a brief glare and hold his gaze for a moment before turning suddenly and exiting the garage from the other side. I haven’t talked to either of them since the bar earlier in the week and the boy looks like he’s still not thrilled with my presence. He’s probably still annoyed at my teasing…not that I care. June’s the only one whose opinion matters to me and I don’t want to get into another argument over the damn Yankee boy.

Walk between closely parked haulers and toss the ball up and catch it over and over. Find a secluded spot and lean heavily against one trailer and end up facing the Target hauler. Finally. Something to do. Focus on the little Target logos and try to hit each of them with my ball, catching it as it bounces back at me.

Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch.

It doesn’t take much skill or concentration to hit the little bull’s-eyes so before I know it my mind starts to drift to my favorite topic. June. And all the things I’d love to do to him. A slow smile crosses my lips as I think about how well his firesuit fits and how much fun it would be to strip him out of it piece by piece. But then I remember Truex’s annoyed glare and the way Dale snapped to anger at the bar.

Shit. What if he’s still mad at me? I mean, I know he said he wasn’t, that it was all just a joke but…what if the boy urged him to see things different? I know I’m not on the soon to be rookie’s Christmas list. What if June is still irritated with me? Dammit…if I could get him alone. Why did they have to run the kid in a Cup car this weekend? Couldn’t they leave him home for once?

Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch.

No, he seems to take the “lightweight” with him everywhere nowadays. Replay the events of the bar in my head again. Why can’t he see how good things could be? Couldn’t he feel the electricity between us? The way the air seems to literally spark when we banter back and forth? But no, I’m just the prankster, the garage entertainment that’s to be laughed at and then sent on his way. At least one person still has use for me.

Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch.

Though, he seems to be falling apart at the seams. But what can I do? It’s not like he talks to me. Unless…. I catch the ball and pause for a long moment. Surely he didn’t want me to see that post. Surely he wasn’t trying to reach out to me on some level…. Shake my head and bounce the ball again. I can’t believe I’m being so stupid.

Thud, bounce, catch. Thud, bounce, catch.

Wonderboy doesn’t care about me. We don’t talk. And even though he obviously needs someone to lean on, I know damn well he’d never let that be me. So why am I still worrying about this? I need to let this go.

Thud, bounce, catch.

“Do you mind?”

Catch the ball at the rough sounding voice and turn my head to see Mears sticking his head out the side door of the hauler. Look him over for a moment--was he asleep?--and then turn back to my task, bouncing the ball off the Target logos again and shrug. “Not really.”

Hear him suck in a breath and I know what comes next. He’ll yell at me, I’ll snap back and then I’ll leave, pretending it was my idea all along. So I bounce the ball once more as I wait for the explosion that will signal my exit. What comes next actually takes me by surprise.

“Can you please find somewhere else to do that?” I hear exhaustion in his voice and turn to look at him again. Study him a little closer than before and note the way he holds to the door frame as if it’s the only thing keeping him up and how his squinted eyes seem red rimmed with fatigue. What the hell has he done to himself lately?

But I don’t call him on it. Not yet. No, instead I catch my ball once more and look back to the red sheet metal in front of me as I store my observations away for later. You never know when little details here and there might come in handy, so I don’t let him realize I know. Instead I shrug and let sarcasm cover my true thoughts.

“I guess I could go use the Candyman’s M&Ms for target practice.” To be honest I don’t care where I am, but I’d rather him not know that. Glance back at him, my words intended to make him think he’s putting me out, “Granted they aren’t as good as bull’s-eyes.”

But as I study him again it hits me. Mears is from California, just like me…and just like Jimmie. He’s good friends with Johnson, and now that I think about it. I’ve seen him hanging out with Wonderboy on more than one occasion. Maybe I can use this situation to my advantage. I look up to meet his eyes and then ask him bluntly, “Hey, aren’t you buds with the Hendrick crew?”

I can see he’s taken off guard by my abrupt change of subject and that’s exactly why I did it. You always get a lot more truth from people when you have them back on their heels. Not to mention it goes a long way towards deflecting attention from yourself. Watch him shift and lean against the doorway with his shoulder before he answers me, frowning as if the words themselves are an effort.

“Yeah, known Jimmie forever. Met Jeff and Brian through him.” Watch as he seems to pause for breath before continuing, “…don’t much know Kyle though.” And once again I’m wondering what the guy has done to himself. Is he sick? But before I can think too much on it he looks at me curiously, probably finally thinking about my question, and asks, “Why?”

Shrug and start to bounce the ball against the hauler again but consciously force myself to stop. Instead I roll it in my hand as I look back at him to address his question as I try to determine if my secret plan will work. Tilt my head, watching him closely and answer his question with a question. “Still spend time with…the leader of that little pack?” I don’t want to explicitly mention Gordon’s name for fear it might sound like I actually care.

“Some time. Not a ton,” he replies, but it’s his next words that actually take me by surprise. “More time with him than the other two I suppose.”

Funny, I thought he was supposed to be best buds with Johnson. This could actually work out even better for me because I’m certain he wouldn’t want his “Jimmieboy” involved. Squeeze the ball tighter in my hand and frown slightly. And since when do I care what he thinks anyway?

Turn back to the hauler and I can’t help myself from bouncing the ball against the sheet metal again. I just want to dump this on someone else so I don’t have to worry about it. That’s all. If I can get Mears involved then I don’t have to be. Time to steer the conversation again so I ask and toss the ball, “But not so much lately…” Catch the ball and turn to him. “Right?”

He looks away at my question and I know there’s a lot more going on here especially when I hear him mumble to himself about not seeing anyone recently. But I can’t get wrapped up in that right now. Right now I need to get him going the right direction. “Maybe you should.”

He doesn’t answer at first and I actually wonder if he heard me or if maybe he’s ignoring me. But then I finally hear him ask, “Why?” in a soft voice and I know I’ve at least got his attention.

Shrug slightly, feigning indifference, as I toss the ball up and catch it again before responding to him. “Sometimes people need someone when you don’t even know it.” Now maybe if he’ll connect the dots….

“Who needs someone?” he asks and I almost want to turn and smack him. Isn’t he paying any attention to me at all?

Turn to face him, trying to hold back my irritation and still attempt to retain my indifference. “When’s the last time you checked in on your buddies, Mearsy?” Surely he’s had to notice. He and Wonderboy are actually friends right? Not like the two of us. They must actually talk. Maybe if he just thinks about it he’ll--.

“Haven’t exactly been in a position to check on anyone, Harvick.” Shake my head and I stare at him in disbelief. How dense is he? “Just...tell me who I need to check on and I will. Don’t have time to play games.”

Games? He thinks this is all a game? Does he think I want to be standing here talking about Wonderboy? Take a step towards him, my words clipped as my anger rises. “I’m not telling you to do anything.” What is he going to make me do? Beg? I don’t beg. “I was just making a suggestion,” I snap before adding in a lower tone. “If I wanted to play games you’d know it.”

But he doesn’t fight back. That’s when I realize I was right before as he shakes his head and moves to sit down in the doorway of the hauler. He’s not trying to antagonize me. He really doesn’t know what I’m saying. I watch as he hunches forward slightly before taking a deep breath and answering me.

“If you don’t tell me, they won’t be getting helped by me. Got enough to deal with, don’t have the energy to check in with each of my friends and make sure they’re doing okay.”

Shit. He really does have problems. I’m actually going to have to spell this all out. Move forward, couching down in front of him and ask him in a softer tone, “Mears? You sick or something?”

He is looking pretty green. But he doesn’t address it. He just waves his hand dismissively at me as he answers, “Touch of the flu. m’fine.” I get the distinct impression that he’s lying, but it’s really not any of my business.  Consider calling him on it, but before I have a chance he continues, “Just...tell me who to check in with.”

Dammit. Why did he have to ask that? Why is he going to make me spill it all? Lower my head slightly until I’m looking down at Casey’s feet. I don’t like letting my guard down, especially not to someone I don’t trust. But to be honest…who do I trust? I shake my head slightly and then take a deep breath before forcing out the words in a rush, “CheckinonGordon.” Then I add a little softer, “…if you want.” I clench my hand around the little bouncy ball again and move to stand, not meeting his eyes. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” Because that’s all I’d need is Mears running to Wonderboy and telling him I’m worried about him.

Don’t look at him as I wait for a response, just keep my eyes lowered to the ground. I get the sense he’s nodding when he finally replies, “Thank you for telling me, Kevin.” He makes another dismissive motion with his hand, obviously tired of my company. “Can you…?”

Raise my head to face him again and nod, tossing the ball in my hand and catching it as I tell him in an even voice, “I didn’t say a word.” Then I turn, not even waiting for his acknowledgement before mumbling almost too soft to hear. “Feel better.” But honestly his health is not what my thoughts are on as I walk away. I told someone. I told a friend of his. Now I don’t have to worry about him anymore, right? No more staring at stupid computer entries. I did my part.

Slowly walk through the long row of car haulers and hear engines fire up. Final practice must be starting, and as I spot the ladder on the back of my hauler I suddenly decideI want to watch. Shove the small rubber ball in my pocket and as I climb the ladder a smile slowly crosses my face. There’s a certain red 8 car that runs really well here. I think I might enjoy watching him lead the draft for an hour.

~*~*~*~

An hour and a half later and all is quiet on the track, but I still lean against the railing on top of the hauler--one lone figure in the bright Alabama sun. Adjust my sunglasses and look around the track as the cars in the garage are put through their last checks and adjustments before the race tomorrow and I suddenly feel very alone. Glide my small companion for the day along the railing, glance around at the crews dispersing and wonder where the object of my obsession has gone.

That’s when a flash of red catches my eye and familiar warmth passes through me as I recognize his swaggering gait even from a distance. He’s walking down the long row of multicolored haulers and is coming this way. But that’s not what brings the huge smile to my face.

He’s alone.

And I don’t get that chance often enough.

I hurry to the end of the hauler and wait for him to come closer before climbing down, wanting to literally drop down in front of him. Chuckle softly to myself as I slide down the ladder. But when my feet hit the ground I freeze as…he smacks me on the ass!

Hear his soft chuckle at my jump and I force myself to take a deep breath to get my raging hormones under control. Grip the last rung of the ladder tightly as I hide a slight shudder and grin slowly at his actions. I guess he’s not still mad at me. Deliberately sway my hips a bit then turn my head to smirk at him over my shoulder, my eyes locking with his twinkling blue ones.

“Mmmm, like what you see, Earnhardt? I’m sure something could be arranged,” my smooth voice and eyes telling him everything my words don’t. Watch a broad smile crosses his face and his laughter warms me inside like nothing else I’ve known. Then he takes me by surprise again and moves even closer, his hands joining mine on the bottom rung of the ladder.

Feel his breath at the back of my neck and it’s all I can do to suppress a shudder of desire as he almost presses against me. I can still hear the laughter in his voice and his accent seems a little thicker as he tells me softly, “Maybe some other time.”

Close my eyes for an instant, wishing more than anything his words were true and for a moment I believe. I believe it really is a promise with more to come, even though I know it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. Hear him chuckle again and open my eyes, raising an eyebrow at him in silent question as if this were all normal as he takes a step back. “So what has you dropping from the sky?”

An instant of hesitation, just a moment to compose myself, is all I need before I turn around and shoot him my best smirk. Shrug at him and tilt my head before replying, “Hmmm…I dunno. Summoned by the Prince of NASCAR?” Pull the bouncy ball from my pocket, needing a little distraction, and start to toss and catch it like I have all day. Then I chuckle and lean back against the hauler behind me, “Or maybe I’m just a fallen angel.” Smirk at him again before continuing and asking almost hopefully, “You gonna mend my wing?”

My eyes widen slightly when he snatches the ball from the air and arches an eyebrow at me. “I never figured I had the power to call down an angel.” My eyes follow the ball as he tosses and catches it and part of me wants to tell him he could rule the heavens themselves if he so desired. Then I watch him as he seems to look me over before continuing, “And I’d love to but… Where’s the wing? I don’t see any.”

I swear his eyes feel like a caress but I don’t let myself focus on the attention, not now. Instead I look over my shoulder as if I’m looking for wings and frown. “Damn...guess they clipped my wings too.” Shrugs and look back at him. “Guess I’m just a mere mortal now.”

He tosses the ball back and forth in his hands and my eyes are locked on then until he chuckles at me again. “Fallen angels are much more fun than broken ones. Hmm, I think I prefer thinking of you as a fallen angel rather than a ‘mere mortal.’”

He thinks of me. Shit, I heard it, he thinks of me. And I can’t wipe the smile from my face. Lean back against the hauler and make no secret of looking him over. “So…you think of me, do ya? I had no idea.” Then I smile even more as he falters, almost dropping the ball. Lean forward and catch it then start to play with it again. “So when do you think of me, hmmm?”

He shifts on his feet and I see a slight blush on his cheeks as he ducks his head before answering. I swear I love it when he lets that sweet southern boy shine through. “Now and again…depends on the mood I’m in,” he says softly.

And he means it. Holy fuck, he really means it. I want to scream. I want to yell. Hell, I want to lay one on him right here in the middle of the garage. But I don’t. Instead I toss him the ball and tell him truthfully, “Well I’ll be your ‘angel.’” Smile when he catches the ball and wet my lips, “I’d so love to know about that mood.”

He tosses the ball back to me and we start an impromptu game of catch as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. I grin as he shifts on his feet again and I can tell he’s still a little…off balance? How can someone so damn sexy be so adorable all at the same time? He looks to meet my eyes again and I swear I’m drowning as he finally replies, “I’ll leave that up to your imagination. I’m sure you can provide more than enough details yourself.”

Boy, can I ever.

Recline back against the hauler as he continues the game of catch. I’m honestly a little surprised he addressed my teasing. He’s never been quite this bold with me before…but maybe that’s because we’re so rarely alone. I feel his eyes on me, much more then friendly, and as I meet his with mine I tell him in a voice that’s more like a purr, “Don’t worry, Earnhardt…I have a very vivid imagination.”

He chuckles low and I swear it goes straight to my groin. How is it he can do this to me so easily? I toss him the ball again and I swear his eyes sparkle with mischief as he replies smoothly, “So should I ask about the film reel in your head that keeps you half hard all the time? Hell of a reputation you’ve built for yourself.” Blink in surprise at his boldness and almost miss the damn ball when he tosses it back my direction.

This is the first time he’s ever really acknowledged my constant attraction to him that I’ve never made an effort to hide…and I’m going to take advantage of it. It seems like I can feel every throb of my heartbeat as I tighten my hand around the ball and move forward until I’m invading his personal space. I’m close enough I can feel his hot breath and the heat of his body but I don’t back off. I want to see what he’ll do.

Reach down between us and take his hand by the wrist, turning his palm up. Then I place my bouncy ball in his palm, slowly closing his fingers around it as I stare into his eyes the whole time. “Trust me,” I whisper almost against his lips as I gaze deep into his eyes. “My reputation’s safe.”

Feel his breath hitch at my touch and watch his lips part slightly. I swear it’s gotta be one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. It’s like I can feel his desire wash over me as his eyes flick down to our hands and then back to my gaze. He licks his lips slowly, and when he speaks his voice is huskier than I’ve ever heard it. “I…I’m sure it is, knowing you.”

Oh God, how I want him to know me. My breath quickens as he leans closer to me and I tilt my head, wanting nothing more than to kiss him senseless. But as I lean in to brush my lips against his I catch sight of a dark figure over his shoulder.

It’s Martin and everything in me wants to ignore him, to press forward, to give into what we both want so badly. But then I remember the bar, and the anger and I know I can’t do this to him. With anyone else, I swear, I wouldn’t even hesitate to expose them. But to Dale…I can’t.

Linger a moment longer and I’m almost close enough to kiss him. “But yours…on the other hand…” I whisper to him softly as I trail my fingers over his wrist and up his inner arm before pulling back, “…is about to be in trouble.” Then I pull back some more and go against every instinct I have and wave to Martin over June’s shoulder, giving him a grin and call out to him. “Hey Yankee boy, you lose your mentor?”

Look to Dale and to see he’s still staring at me with darkly hooded eyes and I swear to myself we will have another chance. Now just isn’t the time. He pulls back and I see his confusion as he tries to follow along. “What? What do you--?” But I know I don’t even have to answer as Martin finally reaches us. The change in him almost breaks my heart as he turns to him and smiles brightly, asking him about lunch, and I know I’ve lost him for now.

But it doesn’t matter.

For a moment, I had him. For a moment I was all he saw and all that he wanted. And as I watch him slip my gift in his pocket before they turn away, I know he’ll be mine again. I wave them off, telling them I have better things to get into but I’ve already gotten everything I need.

He wants me. He desires me.

And as I turn back for the garage to see what the crew is up to I know with all my heart….

I will have him.

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Catw00man & Zippit - mbn@cryptoffic.com