heart than I really did. It took me a long time to figure that out.
I had no clue to the rules he operated by. I mean, sure, I played the playas all the time. That was my suicide day entertainment. But I’d never gamed in an arena like Chaos played in.
Don’t get me wrong, I was always moving up the ladder, looking for a bigger player to play, but I don’t know what kind of ape-shit thinking had been in my brain when I saw him coming and didn’t walk away. That was definitely a death wish speaking out.
And don’t think I didn’t rack my brain trying to remember that pickup scene. I wondered, what the hell? How come I was blacking that out?
But that didn’t really matter at the moment. Picture me trying to act cool with Chaos staring me down like he wanted to strangle me. It took him a minute to get his lips around some words.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Call it the death wish speaking. I batted my eyes, boldly acting innocent. “Where the fuck do you think I’m going?”
There was not one sound coming from the apartment behind him. I know those guys were afraid to breathe. I’m telling you, when Chaos gets his deadly tension going, you know not to move. But I didn’t really care if he killed me.
Those moments I’d waited for him to come out of the bathroom, I’d already died. I was numb inside. I wasn’t up to any games.
My eyes flashed. Liquid red, I bet. Probably matched the lipstick I’d put on. Black eyes tend to do that when you’re absolutely bucking up death’s door.
Indecision. His.
Let me go. Drag me back inside. Walk me out.
I saw it warring within him. It felt like an eternity.
There was nothing in that that had anything to do with saving face for his followers. He already had their respect, wasn’t worried about losing it. It had more to do with what was going on inside of him, I think. I felt it more than anything. And that confusion he was feeling transmitted itself to me. Or maybe it spoke to the disordered mess in my own head.
That silence was like a living thing. It stretched. It broke. But our eye contact never did. Finally, I guess, he got a little control together. He didn’t smile. I remember the distinct feeling that I was trapped again in one of Chaos’ little games of self-exploration. Smoothly, he settled his shoulder against the opening of the lift, crossed one foot over the other, and looked like he planned to lean there all day...watching me.
It was a good thing I was leaning against the wall. I didn’t have any strength in me all of a sudden. I let out a heavy breath and tipped my head back, watching him under closed lids. Ages we stood there.
Finally, he rubbed his lips together and asked, “You hungry?”
Yeah, I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since I don’t know when. Plus, I was hungry for him to put his arms around me. But I didn’t like that. It made me surly.
“I was going home.” It came out a little haughty.
“Is that right?”
I ran my tongue over my upper teeth, below my lips, and said matter-of-factly, “Yeah.”
We were both still posing, and I was trying desperately to keep my mind blank, not to think about how sexy he was, or like I said, how much I wanted to roll up into his arms and let him hold me. Funny, how you can be tough for so long, way too long, and not realize how desperately you just want someone to take care of you. I knew instinctively that if anyone could take care of me, it was him. But I did not want to let him in.
It made me a little sad. Bleak. There was no future with the man. He was on a one-way road. As an alpha player, his days were numbered. There was always somebody clawing up the doggie ladder, looking for a top spot.
So, I could go for longevity, walk away--if he’d let me--or steal the good moments that I
I had no clue to the rules he operated by. I mean, sure, I played the playas all the time. That was my suicide day entertainment. But I’d never gamed in an arena like Chaos played in.
Don’t get me wrong, I was always moving up the ladder, looking for a bigger player to play, but I don’t know what kind of ape-shit thinking had been in my brain when I saw him coming and didn’t walk away. That was definitely a death wish speaking out.
And don’t think I didn’t rack my brain trying to remember that pickup scene. I wondered, what the hell? How come I was blacking that out?
But that didn’t really matter at the moment. Picture me trying to act cool with Chaos staring me down like he wanted to strangle me. It took him a minute to get his lips around some words.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Call it the death wish speaking. I batted my eyes, boldly acting innocent. “Where the fuck do you think I’m going?”
There was not one sound coming from the apartment behind him. I know those guys were afraid to breathe. I’m telling you, when Chaos gets his deadly tension going, you know not to move. But I didn’t really care if he killed me.
Those moments I’d waited for him to come out of the bathroom, I’d already died. I was numb inside. I wasn’t up to any games.
My eyes flashed. Liquid red, I bet. Probably matched the lipstick I’d put on. Black eyes tend to do that when you’re absolutely bucking up death’s door.
Indecision. His.
Let me go. Drag me back inside. Walk me out.
I saw it warring within him. It felt like an eternity.
There was nothing in that that had anything to do with saving face for his followers. He already had their respect, wasn’t worried about losing it. It had more to do with what was going on inside of him, I think. I felt it more than anything. And that confusion he was feeling transmitted itself to me. Or maybe it spoke to the disordered mess in my own head.
That silence was like a living thing. It stretched. It broke. But our eye contact never did. Finally, I guess, he got a little control together. He didn’t smile. I remember the distinct feeling that I was trapped again in one of Chaos’ little games of self-exploration. Smoothly, he settled his shoulder against the opening of the lift, crossed one foot over the other, and looked like he planned to lean there all day...watching me.
It was a good thing I was leaning against the wall. I didn’t have any strength in me all of a sudden. I let out a heavy breath and tipped my head back, watching him under closed lids. Ages we stood there.
Finally, he rubbed his lips together and asked, “You hungry?”
Yeah, I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since I don’t know when. Plus, I was hungry for him to put his arms around me. But I didn’t like that. It made me surly.
“I was going home.” It came out a little haughty.
“Is that right?”
I ran my tongue over my upper teeth, below my lips, and said matter-of-factly, “Yeah.”
We were both still posing, and I was trying desperately to keep my mind blank, not to think about how sexy he was, or like I said, how much I wanted to roll up into his arms and let him hold me. Funny, how you can be tough for so long, way too long, and not realize how desperately you just want someone to take care of you. I knew instinctively that if anyone could take care of me, it was him. But I did not want to let him in.
It made me a little sad. Bleak. There was no future with the man. He was on a one-way road. As an alpha player, his days were numbered. There was always somebody clawing up the doggie ladder, looking for a top spot.
So, I could go for longevity, walk away--if he’d let me--or steal the good moments that I
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