AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Okay, I think. I’m ready, and my growling stomach agrees. Now I wait, and when my gaze lands on my cellphone where it rests on the bed, I realize I should have given my number to Creed. Not that he gave me the chance. He was here and gone in a blink.
I walk to the bar that frames the kitchen, which isn’t much of a kitchen at all. It truly looks like something out of the eighties, with greenish counters made of some sort of fake countertop material, and an old-fashioned fridge, but fancy doesn’t matter. I’m not here to live in luxury, and when my father offered me officer housing, I declined. I don’t want to be seen as an extension of him when I know to some extent that’s unavoidable.
Hiking myself up on a wooden barstool, I slide my MacBook in front of me, having left it here this morning. This particular facility isn’t keen on outside technology, but I have been working to create my own data on Project Zodius.
There’s a knock on the door, and my heart thunders in my chest, nerves tap dancing in my belly. I have got to get myself under control. With a deep breath, I walk to the door and open it, and despite knowing full well it’s Creed, the impact of him standing there is pretty darn breathtaking. He’s a beautiful man. He really is.
He's also got his hands full, and I quickly take the drinks. “That was insanely fast,” I say, motioning with my head for him to come in.
It’s only now that I realize we’re in my new home, as a part of our first date—if that is what this is—and it might suggest I’m about to sleep with him. But I really don’t think that’s what he believes or assumes. It’s just convenience and the necessity of our location—being Groom Lake.
He steps inside and uses his boot to kick the door shut, his arms are still loaded. I set the drinks on the bar and grab a bag. “This is a lot of food.”
“You have a big appetite,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s teasing.
“I think it’s more you who has the big appetite. We’ll never eat all of this.”
He joins me at the counter and sets the remainder of the bags next to the drinks. “You really don’t know much about us, do you?”
“Not yet, no. Why? What does that mean?”
“It means, let’s eat.”
I search his face, trying to understand but read nothing. I climb onto my stool and he does the same, close to me by necessity. The bar is just not that long. I grab one of the bags and start pulling out food. There’s an empty burger wrapper and I’m starting to put things together.
“You need more calories than an average man.”
“Windwalking requires fuel.”
“What if you windwalk during combat and don’t have it?”
“I hear they are working on another immunization.”
His words zip like an accusation and when he sets my tater tots in front of me, I feel a little queasy. So much so, that I ignore my food and reach for the bag and pull out another three burgers, wishing I knew what to say to him right now, but I don’t. Everything I think of sounds contrite in my mind, and that sends a message I don’t want to.
But I have to say something.
I have to respond.
I glance over at him and just go for honesty. “I don’t know how to reply to that comment.”
My stomach growls rather loudly, and while I don’t get a smile out of him his eyes light with amusement. “Try telling me you like the tots.”
“You sure?”
“I went to Vegas for those tots.”
I smile, even if he does not, and say, “And I really appreciate it.”
“Then eat, Addie,” he urges softly.
I nod and turn to my tots, pulling them out of the foil and unpackaging my plastic fork. By the time I’ve salted my food, he’s already opened another burger. “I got you everything on your wish list.” He sets fries and onion rings in front of me.
“I’ll never eat all of this,” I laugh.
“I’ll help,” he promises, and the energy in the room is measurably lighter, like whatever triggered his remark is hidden away between hamburger buns and tater tots with cheese.
I dig into my food, and he does the same. For just a bit we’re silent, but it’s not actually uncomfortable. I’ve just finished off a bite of my burger when he grabs an onion ring at the same time I do. Our hands collide and the charge is impossible to miss.
We share a look that packs a punch and I abandon the onion ring, leaving it for him. “I have a small confession,” I say, eager to ensure whatever this is happening between us isn’t tainted by lies or secrets, which I believe he’s experienced too much of as it is. “I looked you up on the database today.”
