Stephenie Meyer Owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by aeglow.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 2. You guys are awesome.
Thanks for reading, too.
Quick reminder: Our Edward and Bella are NOT together yet, so you can't fault them for the stupid shit they do in this chapter and the next. Lol. Rated M for adult humor and situations.
ENJOY!
"Outside the Box" chapter 3: Don't Stop Bielebing.
"The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. The wheels on the bus go round and round. All through the town." I sang and rolled one hand over the other. Most of the kids were doing it with me, except for those two badasses in the back.
The sad thing is that I didn't even care. When one starts crying I'll do something.
"The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish," I started swishing my arms like they were windshield wipers. "Swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, swish," I sat back down in my chair. "The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish. All through the town." I paused, looking out to the crowd for my next victim. "What comes next?"
They all raised their hands. "Uh...Maddy. Can you sing the next verse for us?" And then she mumbled through it. This school is such a joke. We have our days split up. In the afternoons—right before they go back to their parents—we get them amped up while we work on music appreciation. I don't have to teach them how to read music or anything. We just sing random nursery school songs.
This is the shit that gives me a headache. They get amped up and I go home to hit a bottle—of Advil.
When I first began to tell my tale it was the weekend. I barely drink on weeknights, partly because I've never been good at holding my drink. I drink too much, and then nothing short of the apocalypse can wake me.
I'm waiting for it. Most say the world will end with Zombies. I say it will end with cockroaches. I bet during my next drunken stint I die, and then I'll be eaten by them while water-bugs make nests in my hair.
It's a fact. They say if we ever experience nuclear winter that cockroaches will be the only living things left.
Yes, cockroaches will be a running theme in this tale. Run away, while you still can...
I continued to spontaneously call on kids to finish up the rest of the song. I hate to admit that I am not my usual cheerful self today—I snorted then.
I'm not sure why it bothers me, but it does. Edward has a date tonight. He met some woman—a barista at Starbucks no less—and asked her out. I tried to rationalize that I wore my haters cap because two weeks ago I technically had three dates and now I have none.
No. That's not it at all. I knew my lucky streak wouldn't last. She's in her early twenties.
What the hell, right?
Geez.
I felt bad for the poor girl.
She has no idea what she's in for. Edward is horrible. He leaves the toilet seat up all the time. He watches anime cartoons—he even has them on DVD. He always leaves his towel on the floor, and he always has a smart ass remark. That's not including his stupid attitude.
What if he sleeps with her? What if they go back to her posh pent house in the village?—hell no. She might be a barista in her twenties, but I'll be damned if that bitch has a pent house. What if they go back to her place and they sleep together? What if she doesn't have cockroaches and she's pleasant?
Why the fuck do I care?
I care because everyone else is always moving on, except me.
And Edward isn't horrible.
I'm getting used to him being there. He's always there. On weeknights, he does cook dinner. He takes out the garbage when it's full, unlike me who will walk by it and try to stuff more shit in there until I have no choice but to take it out.
He did laundry the other day and mixed my hamper in with his stuff.
At first I was creeped out that he touched my underwear, but then I thought it nice. He did me a favor.
I do stuff for him too. He cooks; I do the dishes. He takes out the trash; I put a new garbage bag in. He screams because a cockroach sneaks up on him, and I go Chuck Norris on its ass with my flip-flop.
I stand corrected. When the nuclear winter hits all that will be left standing are the cockroaches and Chuck Norris.
Oh come on. It's not a perfect comedic story without a corny Chuck Norris joke, circa 2005.
Maybe this is that kind of story. I'm a joke. My life is one big joke. It's like the sad version of "Joe's Apartment".
"Bella's Apartment: Where Bella checks in, but she doesn't check out." Coming soon, to a roach motel near you.
I bet that's what'll happen. Edward will move out and those nasty fucks will start talking to me.
Christ.
I shuddered at the thought, and then I wondered what they might say.
Huh?
"You killed my friend. My cousin and my mother. You cold hearted, single, old bitch!"
Sounds about right.
"You okay?" Leah asked me.
I smiled in her general direction.
"It's ten to three," she did a little dance. "Time to pack 'em up and ship 'em out."
That's when I did a little dance in my seat, too. The kids were enjoying play time. Leah, my assistant, and I like to keep the kids amped. It's a silent "fuck you" to those snooty fucks—the parents—of these monsters. They're lucky we don't give them candy before we rush them out the door.
Leah and I spoke about Mike Bloomberg, the NYC mayor, until it was time for us to release the hounds—I mean students. Mayor Bloomberg is always a hot topic of discussion. Some say he's destroying the city. Most can't help but comment about his own wealth. I personally don't give a fuck. I don't do politics at all. I listen, but honestly don't have an opinion.
I went crazy for that Jimmy McMillan guy, though. His campaign hit too close to home. I was a firm member of "The rent is too damn high" party. Of course, I have no idea what his other topics of concern were.
Leah rushed out fast. She had to pick up her own kid from school, while I slowly cleaned up my classroom. I didn't feel the need to rush home because Edward will likely be getting ready for his date, and I wanted to look busy? Like I don't care?
All of that was shot to hell when he called my cell. I let it ring three times before I picked it up.
"What?" I asked.
"Is that the way you greet everyone?"
I sighed. "I'm busy, Edward. What is it?"
"Um...this is kind of fucked up, but we get each other, right?" He asked.
I slumped my shoulders. "We do...I can agree that we're both a little fucked up."
"You said it—"
"On with the story." I waved my hand.
"I'm a little short on cash—this is fucked even for me—but I was wondering..."
"You can hold on to your money...pay me when you have it, and have fun on your date." It killed me to say it and be so nice, but I didn't want to be "bitter party of one". I planned to rise above it.
"Wow!" He shouted and then paused. "But that's not it. I was just wondering if I could cook here. If Irina and I could hang out here?"
My mouth hung open in shock, like I heard him wrong. Then I came to. "What about—"
"I thought of that. Now just hear me out...I'll still feed you, make enough for the three of us, and...you can hang out in your bedroom? You do that anyway since I've been living here."
"No I don't." I argued.
"Couldn't you tonight? Pretty please? I'll cook and do dishes for a week, and...my income tax is coming soon. It should be enough for me to get a place and be out of your hair for good."
I swallowed. "Deal. I'll do you one better though..." I took in a deep breath. "I just won't come home."
"Bella..." he let my name hang there.
"No...it's totally fine. I'll call Rose or see if my friend Jake wants to do something," I threw a few legos onto the floor. I didn't care about this shit anymore. The kids will only manage to fuck up the room tomorrow.
"Who's Jake?" He asked.
"A friend from work. Have fun on your date—and you better not fuck her on my bed. I'll figure out a way to kill you, understand?" I grit my teeth together. "Edward, did you hear me? No fucking on my bed!"
"It's a weeknight. Um...she'll be out early, I promise. This just works out so much better. I can save money and—"
I pulled the phone away from my ear to end the call. Then I slowly walked back to my desk, and planned to call Rose. I did just that and she picked up right away.
"Yellow?" She laughed.
"Green," I grumbled.
"Who?" She asked.
"Your brother has a date." I whispered. "Why does it bother me?"
She laughed again. "Cause you're miserable and you want company—I guess this isn't a good time to tell you. I have to cancel this Saturday. I'm going with Emmett out to Jersey. He wants his mom to meet me."
"Lucky you," I smiled, and I'll never know why she tried to hook me up with him. They slept together, and have been doing so since the Padres whipped some Yankee ass. It's on the down low of course, which is driving Rosalie insane. That's the draw. She likes her job, and did not want to fuck it up with screwing an associate.
"I hope she likes me..."
"Can we focus on me?" I asked. "He's cooking dinner for her in my kitchen."
"So? Is this the young girl that works at Dunkin' Donuts?" She asked.
"Starbucks," I corrected her. "He says she's twenty-one. He's almost thirty-one...can you believe that?"
She snorted. "He's a thirty year old divorced teacher. Only you were dumb enough to bring him home. If you think about it, young girls will probably be the only babes he bags. They don't know any better. They think being a teacher is cool, and regardless of how fucked up he is, he will still seem mature, and now he's not deemed as homeless...he's got that bohemian appeal. Whereas grown women don't find that appealing at all."
"He said he's moving out soon. He's getting his taxes." I whispered.
"All five hundred dollars—no wait, I bet he claimed the car. I can't wait to have a kid. Do you know how much you get back with one of those?" She asked.
"You also get stretch-marks, a fat ass, and you spend more than you get back—"
"I want to move out to Jersey. Get a house? Maybe pop out a few munchkins...Can you imagine me and Emmett having a kid?" She sounded wistful. "Oh No! Long Island. We'll live..."
I hung up on that bitch too.
"Knock-knock!" Jake announced himself. I smiled even though I want to strangle him every time he says "knock-knock" and doesn't actually knock. He stops by every day and every day we say the same thing. I started to play along today, too.
"Hey!" I waved, and kept on smiling. He's really not as bad of a guy as I paint him to be. He's nice, a little too nice, but still a great guy. As per Jake, he comes from a nice family, a normal nuclear family consisting of him, his sister, and his parents who are still married. Jake left his family when he came down to the city for college. He came from upstate New York, close to the Canadian border, where his family lives on a reservation. Now, I know you're all wondering why he's still single. Well, he had a girlfriend in college and they stayed together for a few years after. She broke up with him because he couldn't make a commitment. Meanwhile, since we've met he's been doing nothing but trying to get me to commit.
He smiled widely. "Now there's a happy face!"
I chuckled a bit. "What's up?"
"Just wanted to check in, see how you're doing," he came in to sit on my desk. He looked good, really good, and he wore a sweater vest. He's as handsome as he's always been, with his big brown eyes, perfect smile, and baby face. I just have a fetish for guys in sweater vests. It hugged his broad shoulders, and his khakis fit nice too. His dark eyes smiled, and he didn't have a hair out of place.
I nodded. "I'm good—very good." I went off script with the very.
"Oh?" He went off script too. "How so?"
I gave him a crooked grin and shrugged one shoulder. "You're here now...Guess I'm just happy to see you." I stood from my chair. "Ask me out again." I played with his collar.
He laughed, taking my hands into his own. "Would you like to try this again? Maybe go out to eat?"
I nodded. "Yeah..."
Then he leaned back to look at me. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
I leaned back too. "Well...you know in the movies...how..." I stopped talking.
"Since when are you shy," he touched my cheek. "It's me."
I laughed at myself. "In movies there's always the thirty-something woman looking for love all over. And it just happens to be right under her nose the whole time?"
He knit his brows together. "I don't watch those movies."
I puffed out my cheeks. "I just don't want to risk looking you over anymore."
"You stopped sleeping with me because you said I acted like a bitch."
I winced and stepped back to grab my purse. "I don't feel like going home."
"Where are you going?" he stood from the desk.
"I don't know. I'll get a slice—maybe see a movie."
"Want company?" He asked.
I nodded.
/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/
We never got that slice, but we did go see some Indie film about a boy and his dog. It was horrible. It only lasted an hour and a half, so that was cool.
Then we went back to his apartment. His apartment has always been bug-free and smells of his cologne. He has a cat, which can be a draw, but he's a single man in his late twenties, and likely lonely. It could be worse, I guess. He could have two cats. Then that'd just be weird. Or he could be like me. I don't have a cat. I have Edward, and he doesn't shit in a box, so he's cool.
As soon as the door to his apartment was closed I lunged at him. I kissed him long, deep, and hard as I felt his muscular arms wrap around me and lead me over to the couch. We didn't exchange any words. We just rapidly undressed each other.
Jake has been, not only my fall back guy, but honestly the only guy since I moved to New York. Others have come close, like Emmett, Edward, and fuck me—even Jasper, but since moving here two years ago, Jake has always been my guy.
We knew each other, and we knew our bodies. He knows what gets me off, and I him. So it was no surprise that he threw me down and then got down to his knees.
He was fast to spread my legs and dive head first between them. It was welcomed. When his tongue made that first quick swoop across my clit, I felt myself melting back against the couch.
"Oh God..." my eyes rolled back. No one will ever know just how much I needed this. I came quick. Not only was a tongue a nice break from the ordinary, but I haven't masturbated since Edward moved in. The walls are thin and that'd just be weird. I'll never comment on why his nightly showers take over twenty minutes, but my vibrator is loud. I think it's worn out.
I should invest in a new one.
Jake groaned as he kissed up to my stomach, and then to my breasts. "Should we take this into the bedroom?" He continued to kiss me.
I sighed, bringing my legs together and holding his head close. "Yeah..."
He smiled and gathered me in his arms again. Having sex with Jake has always been an odd venture too. He knows how to fuck—always gets me off—but he has odd preferences.
I do not question the preferences. The first time we had sex it was hot—heavy, and crazy good. We were all over the place, until we started to get used to each other. He began to voice what drives him crazy and asked "Just how open minded are you, Bella?"
Many things went through my head at that moment. I thought about butt-plugs, strap on dildos, hitting, flogging, and any other kinky shit you can think of.
Never did I think it was as sick as what he had in mind.
I did it once, and never again. I meet him half way, though.
The kinky shit? Well, he asked me to take a very cold shower, and then lie on my back—completely still.
What the fuck is that shit about?
It didn't take a genius to figure it out. My first thought—and only thought—was that Jake might be some closet necrophiliac.
Most of you are probably disgusted—wondering how I could go through with it or even sleep with Jake after that. The truth is, it's just a preference. He will still have regular sex. He'll bounce me off his dick. Hit it from behind, and even do it the regular way and ask me to scream his name.
Remember those lowered standards I was talking about? Well, when everything else fails, lower your standards. You won't be as disappointed.
And Jake wanting to fuck a dead girl is just a little quirk.
But since he went down on me today, I lied completely still underneath him.
"Your skin is so cold..." he ran his hand along my hip.
I didn't move, but a whimper did escape my lips. His hand felt amazing, and when I closed my eyes, I saw a pair of green ones staring back.
That screwed up my role play. I sat up, a little disturbed.
"What's wrong?" Jake asked.
I swallowed, clamping my eyes closed tight and shaking my head. "I think I need a cold shower."
He let out a small noise, something close to a squeal, before he whisked me away to the bathroom.
After all...dead girls can't walk.
We never had sex. Halfway through my cold shower I decided to get the fuck out of there. It wasn't Jake or the cold water hitting my skin, it was me. I wasn't in the mood anymore. I was hungry, and I honestly just wanted my bed.
I faked cramps—a girl's best friend, and then Jake took me for pizza. He doesn't get the mechanics of women, so he didn't question me. Fuck, he didn't even seem like he cared. He stared at me with stars in his eyes, kissed me whenever he could, and always had one of his paws on me.
"You want my sweater? Your hair is still wet?"
I laughed, shaking my head no. "It's like seventy degrees out." I sipped my soda. "This was nice today."
He nodded. "It was...it really was. I'm so glad we did this," he kissed my jaw. "Can I see you this weekend?"
I snapped my fingers. "I have plans with Rose Saturday. How about we meet up Sunday? We can have dinner or something." I lied. If we meet on Saturday, it means one of us will likely sleepover at one of our places, but a Sunday date means an early night.
He kissed that same spot again. "You got it." He looked to his watch. "It's getting late..."
I paused. Even if I faked cramps, it was only to get out of the sex. Even if I wanted to go home, I couldn't, and it took everything in me not to ask Jake if I could spend the night.
"You taking a taxi or the subway?" He asked.
"Subway." I whispered. "And no you don't have to accompany me." I smiled.
"Are we dating, fucking as friends again—what?" He asked.
"The second one...We can work at it—see how it goes?" I asked. "You're an amazing guy, and you don't annoy me. I just wish—"
"I didn't take longer than you to get ready. That I wasn't so neat. That I don't—"
"You're fine." I stopped him. "You're an adult, not a bitch—I'm immature." I stuck out my tongue. "I'm sorry I said that. I'm not perfect. You're not perfect, but I like you the way you are, and you like me the way I am. I guess I just wanted this version of perfect that doesn't exist." I looked down, feeling like some jacked up version of Dr. Phil.
Truth be told I had no idea what I was saying. I knew what this was, and I knew what I didn't want to do. I knew I was latching on to Jake because I didn't want to be left behind. I don't want to be single when I turn thirty.
And I sure as fuck don't want to lead him on. "We'll be friends...and the sex is just a nice perk...when we have it. Sorry about today." I palmed my stomach.
He nodded. "Sounds good to me and don't worry about it." He leaned his forehead to my cheek. "We can 68 anytime you want."
I laughed. I don't think I've heard that number referenced that way since high school.
From there he walked me to the subway. Then I waited for the "B" train to take me back uptown. The ride was quick, and then I slowly walked the few blocks to my apartment. I still didn't want to go home. It was only just approaching eight O'clock, but with working adults during the week, we're in bed by nine to get up at six.
I'm never in bed that early. I know Jake makes a conscience effort to be in bed that early though.
I managed to walk one avenue, the slowest I could, and it still only took me less than ten minutes. If we lived in a perfect world, I could walk a few blocks over and hang out in Central Park. I'd sit on a rock and contemplate my life, but since I don't feel like getting gang raped and then murdered, I stayed on walking towards my place.
"Hey Bella...Bella..."
I turned to a stumbling Harry. I'm not quite sure if he's a drunk or a crackhead—he might be both—but he's a nice guy nonetheless. He's homeless. He sleeps in Central Park, probably on a rock, actually. And he's always trying to sell you something. He's a nice guy, always lurking between the subway and the chicken spot, so we've built a rapport.
"Hey Harry." I waved. "Whatcha got there?" I smiled at the type writer he had in his hands. The cord attached to it was dragging on the sidewalk.
"There's that bitch, Sue!" He shouted. "You stole my newspaper!"
I turned, and sure enough Sue—an actual crackhead—was walking towards us.
"I have two pennies," she told me.
"That's wonderful," I nodded and turned back to Harry.
"So you want this?" He held out the type writer to me. "Two dollars."
I shook my head no.
"You never want anything. When—when you gonna learn—you gotta take shit." He stumbled again. "Grab life by the balls and run with it—buy this," he went to hand it to me again.
I smiled, shaking my head no again. "I'm good, Harry. I gotta go. Be nice to Sue." I patted his arm as I walked past him, and continued my journey home.
When I approached my building I tried to peek into the window. I live on the ground floor, and I saw that the lights were on. They weren't dimmed down and the television didn't appear to be on. But I sat on the stoop and sulked for a while anyway. I played a few rounds of Angry Birds on my phone. As soon as I got to where you get three small birds instead of the fat red ones, I quit. I have yet to master the three bird toss.
Then of course I checked Facebook. Rose's latest status update featured the lyrics of R. Kelly's "down low". I scrolled down to see Jake's "Had the best day, followed by the best night".
That made me smile. It also made me get up from the stoop and brush off my ass. What was I so afraid of? This is my fucking apartment. I'll go in, be polite to his date, and go into my bedroom. It's late. I can make an exception and be in bed before nine, right?
I blew out a breath and let myself into the building. Then I put one foot in front of the other while I walked to my door. I paused in front of it. I heard laughing, voices, and some music—and all that? It made me smile for some reason too.
Why can't the poor guy be happy? He's had a real shitty hand dealt to him.
"I wish you the best," I whispered as I turned the key in the lock.
When I entered the apartment they were both sitting on the couch. There were a few plates on the coffee table and some wine. They looked cozy, but Edward jumped up as soon as he realized I was home.
"Don't get up for me," I tried not to look at his date as much as I could. As far as I could tell she was young, blonde, and beautiful. She had a great figure and looked kind of tall. She wasn't standing, but she had pretty long legs.
"I was wondering when you'd be back. Did you have a good time?"
I swallowed, tearing my eyes away from the floor. He looked good, nervous as fuck, but just as handsome as he always does. He wore a green t-shirt, some jeans, and sneakers—Edward's uniform. "I had a great time." I shrugged, making eye contact with his date. "I'm Bella," I put out my hand.
"Irina," she giggled.
"This is the kind and generous woman who's letting me rent this comfortable couch from her." He rolled his eyes.
I shook my head no. "I'm neither of the two. I rob him blind just so he can sleep on the couch."
Edward chuckled nervously.
Irina was too busy on her cell phone.
"I'll just—" I pointed to my bedroom.
"She was just leaving anyway." He said.
I nodded. "Don't leave for me." I said.
"She has an early class tomorrow," he reached out to touch my hair. "Why is your hair damp?"
I grinned. "It was raining earlier."
"No...it wasn't." Edward stared at me, like I was lying. The nerve of him.
"You done with this then?" I pointed to the wine.
He grabbed the bottle and placed in my hand. "Enjoy."
"I plan to." I looked to Irina. "It was great meeting you. I hope to see you soon."
"Likewise." She never looked up at me.
When I entered my bedroom I let out a huge gust of breath. Then I stripped down and put on some pajamas. I brushed through the mess that was my clumped, damp hair. Then I silently sat in my bed with the bottle of wine. I didn't drink any; I just sat there and stared up to the ceiling.
While I did so, I heard the door open and close.
A sigh escaped my lips. Overall, I had nothing to fear and I was being ridiculous.
Ten of the slowest minutes passed by and then I heard the door open again. I really wanted the scoop on his date, but I couldn't imagine asking.
Then after another five minutes ticked by, I left my bedroom.
Edward sat on the couch with his forearm covering his face. He looked troubled, but that's not what caught my attention. What caught my attention was the type writer sitting on the coffee table.
"You met Harry." I said, placing the wine bottle down next to it.
"Nice guy." Edward picked his head up. "I got this for a steal—two fifty." He laughed.
"Huh?" I sat on the couch. "He offered it to me for two."
"He's probably a sucker for those doe-like eyes you got there—" he whacked me with his pillow.
I laughed and hugged it to myself. "What are you going to do with it?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing, but it makes for a good story. How I once bought a type writer from a crackhead." He looked back to me. "So where were you really?"
"You're my father now?" I asked. "I told you. I was with a friend."
"Right..." he sighed. "Do you know who Justin Bieber is?"
I laughed. "You teach high school and you don't know what a Belieber is?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I also have no idea who those Jersey Shore douches are. Irina kept asking me—you don't want to hear this, do you?" He frowned.
I shook my head. "I don't." I lied.
"Figured that." He sat back.
"Did you kiss her?" I blurted and then covered my mouth with my hand.
He nodded. "I did...she has a tongue ring. I don't get that."
I let out a shaky laugh. "You act like you're fifty—my God."
"No...I get it. I know what its purpose is. I just don't understand why someone would consciously put a hole in their tongue. Not to mention that she has a tattoo above her ass. I know that as a tramp stamp—and again I can't imagine why someone would knowingly mark their bodies forever. And why would you want to be marked as a tramp? With the tongue ring, she's saying "I give head" and with the tattoo she's saying "I'm a tramp". It all makes no sense to me."
"A lot of things don't make sense, grandpa." I took a swig of wine. "Want?"
He nodded. "Please," he gulped some down. "She didn't even eat. She's a fucking vegan."
"I thought you said she ate meat?" I laughed.
"Very funny—but like...like I'm some fucking mind reader? She had to tell me and when she told me, it was as if I should have already known. That vegan shit has come and gone already—Tanya..." he stopped talking, and he never even says her name.
"Tanya?" I prompted.
He shook his head. "That bitch had me eating bean burgers for two months—two fucking months. Imagine not having—fuck—anything. I don't get that either." He smacked his palm down. "You know? When shit was better? Like before I got married, and I dated, I would send this one flowers, an awkward e-mail, and then go on with my life. Now, all I can think of is what if this is it for me? Why not make the best of what I do have—I'm rambling. You already tolerate me, and I'm—"
I placed my hand on top of his. "I get it." I said.
"You get it," he scoffed. "You can have anyone out there. Shit...you were on a roll for a while there."
"After six months of nothing," I frowned. "Bean burgers aren't the worst compromise. But I get that she's a hypocrite—last I heard pussy was a living organism."
"So true—see this? This is an adult conversation." He waved a hand.
I nodded, patting his thigh. "I should go to bed." I stood up to walk back to my bedroom. When I was in the doorway, I turned back to him. "She's out there. She may not be Irina or Tanya, but your girl is out there." I looked down. "-and don't come back with a smart ass remark, because I need to believe this...there is someone out there for everybody. And we just have to wait—I just hope I don't meet Mr. Right after menopause." I laughed.
When I picked my head up to look at him he looked incredibly sad. "He's out there." He whispered. "You just have to realize how special you are. That night—when we were in there?" He pointed behind me. "I meant what I said. You're a great person. For some reason...I...I knew that the minute I saw you. You're beautiful and you have a great sense of humor—he's out there." He looked away from me.
I gave him a small smile. "Thank you...goodnight."
He nodded. "Goodnight."
As always, thank you for reading. Any thoughts? Please leave them. I have chapter 4 ready and chapter 5 halfway written. Eeeep! I love these guys already. Quiet Storm is back from the beta and scheduled to be updated on Wednesday.
Thank you!
