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“We both already know that answer.”
“I know one of usthinksthey know that answer.” All curtains beginning to close precedes another round of chortles. “But because she’s so cute when she’s wrong, we jus’ let her keep thinkin’ it.”
“It’s likeyou wantto start a pillow fight.”
“And it’s likeyou wantto lose one.”
There’s no hesitation to reach over and grab the fluffy white weapon to launch an attack; however, unfortunately for me, my best friend’s reflexes are superhuman level. Not only does he manage to somehow dodge the poorly flung pillow while rushing my direction, he snatches it out of the air and throws it back at my torso like the world’s shittiest Frisbee. The instant my hands manage to catch the item, I’m captured from behind, arms crossed over mine to keep them as well as the object secured to my chest.
Arrogant chuckles hit the side of my face before neon bright words are seen leaving his irresistible lips. “Was that a fight, Angel Cake or jus’ an embarrassment?”
Despite my wiggling and giggling nature, Slater maintains his firm hold, theoretically keeping me trapped, but truthfully keeping me in the one place I love to be most. When I glance up at him over my shoulder to demand my freedom, an unexpected confession crawls out of the caverns of my damaged memory instead. “You saved my life.”
His dark eyebrows dart down in confusion.
“You taught me toSING.”
“Not crashin’ us into the nearest light pole durin’ those punk screamin’ sessions you have in my truck barely constitutes as savin’ your life, Angel Cake.”
“No,” I snicker and successfully slide out of his grasp so that I can turn to completely face him. “When um…When I was attacked in the parking lot…I…I could hearyour voicetelling me to fight back. To…SING.”
“Solar Plexus. Instep. Nose. Groin.”
“Yeah, not sure it was in thatexactorder, but I remember doing all those things or as many of those things that I could, which took him by surprise, ultimately giving me the chance to signal for help. And I know that the only reason that was possible was because ofyou.” Cradling the pillow closer is unconsciously done. “Becauseyoupushed me to take that self-defense class you taught. Becauseyoupushed me to practice those moves. Becauseyounever fail to remind me of how physically capable I can be despite my condition that has a habit of crippling me. You kinda have this way of making me feel like I can do anything.” Admiration hits his gaze yet amusement dances in mine. “Exceptwin a pillow fight.”
“Of course,” he airily chuckles, light blue words floating in the space between us. “I need you prepared to handle yourself out in the world, not take me down in cushion combat.” More laughter leaves us both prior to him tucking a loose stand of hair behind my ear. “But on a serious note? I’m grateful youlet mepush you to do those things. That youlet meteach you to be all that you can really be.”
“Did you just PJ motto at me?”
“That was the Bullet Catchers line andnotmy intention.”
“Army…Air Force…” My head bounces from side to side in a taunting fashion. “It’s all the same, right? Military’s military.”
He twitches me the displeased glare that I’m anticipating. “Before you say some other shit to insult me in, how about we get you settled in bed?”
“Probably a good idea.”
Abandoning the pillow back onto the king size mattress is promptly followed by an odd, unexpected interrogation regarding my sleeping preferences. While all the questions initially feel idiotic – which side of the mattress do I prefer to sleep on, what temperature does the room need to be at, do I want any light to be seen through the curtains – it dawns on me that they’re far from it. His seemingly innocent investigation – that he insists is all about making my indefinite stay as comfortable as possible – actually reveals to us more than I would’ve imagined. Sure, we know an almost inconceivable amount of shit about one another, but there’s also things we stilldon’tknow.
That we get to learn.
“Whale songs?” Slater’s entire face scrunches in stupefaction. “Really?”
“Ocean sounds,” I sassily correct at the same time I snuggle underneath the crisp white sheet. “Big difference.”
“No difference.”
“Huge difference.”
“Not even alittledifference.”
Slamming my head back on the pillow is followed by a small sigh. “See, I knew I shouldn’t have told you. I knew I should’ve taken that one to the grave.”
“No, Angel Cake.” Guilt immediately grabs him as he plops onto the edge of the mattress beside me. “No more fuckin’ secrets. No more fuckin’ surprises. No more fuckin’ sucker punches.” My mouth rushes to explain the ex-boyfriend situation, yet is stopped by him speaking again. “You can tell meanything. And I meananything. I always thought you knew that, but I’m gettin’ the feelin’ here lately, that’s not the case, so let me put this shit on record. Let me be as crystal fuckin’ clear to you as I can be.” His blue gaze bores into my brown in tandem with his cobalt words cradling me. “You can trust me, Arley.Always.”
Can I trust him to let me down easy if I tell him how I really feel?
Can I trust him to pick up the broken pieces that would be left behind and help me patch them back together?
