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“I know you have every reason to not trust me,” Bishop states, looking out toward nature’s playground, with his hands pressed into his pockets. “But trust me when I say that anything I do—we do, Nate and me—is for your own good.” He looks at me now, his eyebrows tugging together, making his features turn serious and hard. “Promise me you’ll remember this. No matter what.”
I search his eyes, trying to find something. Anything. “But you’ve told me everything—right?”
He stops, smiles, and then nods. “Right. That I have.”
“You’ve told me everything?” I repeat.
He nods again, looking away, and then walking up to me. “Yes. What are you looking at?” He takes a seat beside me on the swing.
“Out there.” I point. “I’d love to go hunt some deer.”
“No.” Bishop shakes his head with a small smile. “Maybe save that for another trip.”
I shrug. “It’s not like I have my guns here anyway, but I just wish I could.”
Bishop stops and then smiles. “Yours aren’t, but mine are.” Pulling me up from my seat, he gets me to my feet and leads me back into the house. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he unlocks a door and then flicks on a light that shows stairs leading down to a basement.
“Come on.” He holds his hand out to me, looking up at me from a couple steps down. “I don’t bite.”
“Yes, Bishop. Yes, you do bite.”
He laughs this time, pulling me into him as we venture deeper and deeper into the dimly lit basement. “True that, but I can’t help it. You’re just so damn tasty.”
Bishop unlocks a cabinet that hangs on the wall on the far side of the basement. The collected dust particles that are sprinkled over the fine woodwork illustrates just how long ago it had been opened.
“If you tell me there’s a musket in here, I will shoot you.”
Bishop laughs, pulling open the cabinet. “Nah, babe, no musket.” It opens out onto a couple AKs, Glocks, semis, and shotguns. I run my hand over the cool black metal of the M4, and Bishop watches me in amazement. “It’s sort of getting my dick hard watching how much this turns you on.”
I roll my eyes and unhook the gun from its spot. “Trust you to find something pervy out of something so dangerous.”
“Hmm….” Bishop grins, unhooking the M16 and some shells. “I can think of a few things we could do with these.” He gestures to his gun, tilting it sideways with a cocky smile on his face.
“Most definitely not!” I turn around and walk back the way we came, passing all the old boxes piled up, and desks, decorations, and tables with white sheets draped over them. I grip onto the stairway’s railing. “That is never happening. Do you even know how dangerous that could be?” I ask, walking back up the stairs. But then I consider how he doesn’t seem to be bothered when I’m hurt during sex, so maybe the same goes if he accidently fucking kills me.
We walk out the front door, passing Nate and Tillie on the way.
“Wow, wow, wow, is this a good idea?” Nate looks to Bishop, eyes wide. Tillie chuckles beside me, toast in midair.
“It’s fine, Nate,” I say, patting his arm. “You can come.”
He looks to Bishop and then shakes his head. “Next time.”
I nod, then hook my arm with Bishop’s. “So, how long will this go on?” I ask, as we step off the last stair and walk toward the clearing of the forest.
“Hopefully not long. The school and your dad have been taken care of. They think we’re visiting colleges. Made up some bullshit about wanting to get in extra early to see our options and that it would be better if we all go at the same time.”
“Right.” Colleges. I never thought of that. We all leave at the end of this year. Where is everyone going? I haven’t even decided yet, and it’s much too far away to figure it out.
“Once we work out how to approach my dad, everything can go back to normal. Hopefully.” We step through the clearing and Bishop takes my hand, pulling me closer to him.
“Have you been hunting before?” I ask with a smile.
He pauses and seems to mull over what my question is, and then smiles mischievously. “Probably not the same kind of hunting.”
Rolling my eyes at—what I assume is—his playfulness, I draw up my gun and look through the scope. I could get used to this real quick.
A couple of hours later, we walk back up to the house, and Bishop takes me hand, grinning from ear to ear and pulling my body in to him. “You got my dick hard. Now—”
He’s cut off by Nate. “B, your dad is calling my phone.”
“Fuck.” Bishop walks toward him with me tucked protectively behind him. He snatches Nate’s phone and looks to him, something passing between the two of them.
