The Waiver 3
"Wake up."
" . . . . No."
"Wake up."
"Bite me . . . "
"Wake up."
"Neveeeerrrrr!" I shouted, like a battlecry. I rolled over her body, grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the bed.
"What'd you gotta say to that, huh?" I asked triumphantly.
"You're awake." Cassie replied, smiling coyly.
I pretended to be defeated and rolled off her onto the bed. "You've won this time, Gadget . . ."
She muffled her laugh into the pillow.
"I don't see why YOU don't have to get up." I said pouting.
"Because I don't have a Joooo-oooooob." She drew out the last word , mocking me.
Cassie had been continuously falling asleep on my couch, "accidentally" for the past month. So, one night I just broke down and carried her off to my bed. Since then, she'd been sleeping with me every night. Not, you know, sleeping, but just sleeping.
In the morning she feels obligated to wake me up two minutes before my alarm goes off to bug me.
Just wait until she gets a job with a punch-in time.
"This is so unfair, I should have gotton a job with you, out in the woods." I muttered. "I'd be nice to wake up whenever I want like you, sloth."
It was sort-of a lie. After waking me up, Cassie would aways work up an instant breakfast (because she can't cook) while I was in the shower. Then she would give me my keys, because I always forgot them, and send e off to work.
I stumbled into the shower and heard Cassie clanging around in the itchen.
A few minutes later I called out to her.
"Hey, Cassie?"
"What?" She yelled back.
"Can't I just stay home today? They won't mind me skipping one day."
"What?"
"I WANT TO SKIP!"
"UM . . . LIKE THE WIZARD OF OZ?"
I sighed and padded out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped into the kitchen. Cassie whipped around, startled, and then just stared at me. She took a quick glance down my body, visibly swallowed, then stared stoically at my face.
"Not skip, like 'I'm-so-happy-let's-skip', I meant skip work. Stay home." I didn't expect her to say yes. I just liked arguing with her lately. I enjoyed playing the part of the whining boyfriend as much as she liked playing the 'nag'. Just fun, not serious. Iwaited forher to say "Just eat your oatmeal and get dressed!"
She didn't. She just stared at me. She took a deep breath and then blinked at me
confused, "What were you saying?"
I put my hands on her shoulders and spoke slowly. "Can. I. Skip. Work."
She took a moment to process. "What! No of course you can't. Now put some
clothes on already and then come eat your oatmeal."
Did I know her or what?
Ten minutes later I was toweled and shaved and ready to start the day. At the breakfast table, Cassie kept giving me side-long glances, then looking away everytime I looked at her. At first I thought she was teasing or playing a little game with my head. But I realized she didn't think I noticed her staring at me.
After about the sixth time, I cracked. "What? What is it? Do I have oatmeal on my face or something?"
Cassie pretended to be confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said with a solemn face.
"You keep looking at me." I mumbled.
"I most certainly am not."
"Are to."
"Am not."
"Are to."
"Am not."
" . . . Am not."
"Are to!"
Gotcha.
"Ah-ha she admits it!" I shouted out, as if a crowd was watching.
"Damn! I meant 'am not'!" She thudded her fist on the table and was about to say something when I grabbed her face and kissed her. She pulled away, suprised.
"What was that for?"
I just looked at her then smiled slowly. "For being the most amazing person I have ever met."
She blushed and ducked her head. It made me grin even more.
I had made her blush.
Me.
Two years ago, if someone told me I'd be having this conversation at the breakfast table with Cassie Carnet, well . . . I'd have referred them to the nearest mental health care provider.
Yet here I am.
"Hey, Cassie?"
"Yeah?" She said, still glowing from my compliment.
"Remind me to thank Marco today."
The whole ride home from work I dreaded it.
Just when things were getting better.
No. Not better, perfect.
What would I tell her?
I couldn't have her do this. If she knew . . .
Just what the hell was I going to tell her?
Two Andalites arrived at the base, just as I was about to go home, and asked for me. Usually, I would have just ignored them and went back to my apartment to meet up with Cassie. But they said the magic words: Aximili-Esargarouth-Isthill.
They identified themselves as Prince Caysath-something-or-other and F.O. Menderash-Posthill-Fastill. First Officer of the 'Intrepid.'
According to these Andalites, Ax's ship, the 'Intrepid' had cornered what they thought might be the Blade Ship behind a small moon in a unexplored part of the galaxy. Instead they found and an old Ion-powered ship. The Andalites version of an old clunker. On board, they had found no one. An abandoned ship.
The only proof of a previous crew? A few small samples of hair.
Colorless hair.
Polar Bear hair. . .
Ax had acted against fleet regulations and joined the off-board crew in the ship. He immeadiately grasped the significance of the hairs and called out to his ship. A split-second later the unknown ship fired, crippling the 'Intrepid' and killing a large portion of the crew. A port opened in the side of the unknown vessel and another ship emerged.
The Blade ship.
Both sped away, taking Ax with them.
Their last coordinates were in a quadrent of space claimed by a species known as the Kelbrid. A species that would not allow Andalite vessels of any kind in their territory.
Caysath's and Mederash's answer?
A Yeerk ship left over from the war.
Lightly guarded.
Easily obtainable.
Menderah would morph to human to join the operation. As for the rest of the crew, well that was for me to choose.
"More people for me to get killed . . ." I muttered, earning a confused look from the driver.
How the hell could I tell Cassie . . . that I don't want her to go with me?
End of Part 3