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My eyes immediately fly to that one door where my juicy meat is hiding … along with that girl I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
Guess today will be vegetarian. Damn.
I grab a plate and cutlery and sit down at the table along with my homemade food, but I can’t bring myself to scoop it up and put it on my plate.
Something is not quite right here.
Something is missing.
Salt and pepper.
That’s it.
I get up and fetch it from the cupboard, but as I generously pour some onto my dish and sit my ass back down in my seat, I still can’t bring myself to pick up my fork and knife and dig in.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I peer up at the door again and the tiny hole she knifed. I don’t see even one eye, but I know she’s in there, watching, listening. Waiting.
Hungry.
Thirsty.
Cold.
And here I was thinking my heart died a long time ago.
I sigh out loud, clutching the cutlery so firmly in my hand it starts to hurt.
Then I slam them down on the table, scoot my chair back, and march to her door.
The second I open it, her lips part, but then her eyes immediately shoot up to my nonexistent beard. She looks surprised even though there’s still stubble.
“You look different,” she mutters.
“Shaven,” I reply.
“I was going to say ‘less of a caveman,’” she quips.
My brows rise. “Oh, the caveman is still here. Don’t worry.”
When I step toward her, she spreads her legs, raises her fists, and growls, “Don’t come closer, or I will punch you in the throat.”
I laugh. She sure has a lot of fighting spirit for a girl I could easily pick up with one arm.
She’s definitely going to be a handful, though.
“I’d love to see you try,” I muse. “But no, I won’t touch you. Don’t worry.”
She looks incensed. “You already did.”
She wants to play this game? Fine.
I fold my arms. “You let me.”
She swallows.
“Because I have no other choice,” she replies. “And it didn’t even make a fucking difference. You didn’t keep your end of the deal.”
