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Plight(52)

By:K.M. Golland


"Where are you going?"

"Outside."

"Lots! I trust you," I called out. "I trust you enough to love you and know that when you say we will always be friends, we will."

Elliot paused then slowly looked back over his shoulder at me, the exit door handle in his hand. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I love you, Elliot Parker. I love you enough to love you like I should  …  like I do."

He let go of the handle and walked back to stand in front of me, a butterfly landing on his shoulder before his lips could touch mine once again. His eyelids lowered, and he sucked in a breath before opening them again. I waited, which was when he gently coaxed the butterfly onto his finger and delicately placed it on my head. "I love you, too, crazy girl. Always have. Always will. Butterflies and all."



       
         
       
        





After our zoo date, we headed back to my house for dinner. I wasn't much of a cook - having been spoilt by Chris' culinary expertise more often than not- so our choices were frozen Ramen noodle bowls from Costco or  …  frozen Ramen noodle bowls from Costco, which I was quite the fan of.

"Dinner is served," I said proudly, placing the black microwavable bowl on the table in front of him.

His mouth curved into a smile, but it was one of those smiles that held knowledge you weren't privy to.

"What? What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing. Smells good."

"It does. And it tastes good, too." I sat down opposite him and dipped my spoon into the soup. "You should know that by loving me, you must also love and accept the fact that this is as far as my cooking skills go."

"I can live with that," he said nonchalantly, his smile still hiding information I wanted to know.

I put down my spoon. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You smile funny when you're not telling me something."

"That doesn't mean I'm lying."

"Yes, it does. It does when you won't tell me what it is."

I stared him down but he wouldn't budge, and it only made me more frustrated, more determined.

"Fine," I said, smiling to myself, trying to mimic his stupid I-know-something-you-don't-know grin. "I won't tell you what I'm thinking then."

He slurped his soup. Loudly. "But you want to tell me, right?"

"Meh. Don't really care."

"Yeah, you do."

"You do more."

"Why?"

"Because it involves me getting naked."

He paused, spoon midway to his mouth, which was agape.

"Thought so." I continued sipping.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Maybe."

He put down his spoon, his eyes hungrier than his stomach, and hungrier for me than the food I'd just dished up. It sent a jolt of excitement direct to my core, waking the muscles between my legs.

"Danielle!" he said, his voice low.

"Remember that game we used to play, when I'd give you one of my lollies if you told me something you were scared of?" I loosened the top button of my shirt, and he fidgeted in his seat. "Well  …  let's play that game again, except this time, I'll give you an item of my clothing instead."

"Storms. Butterflies. Bats. Cats. Chickens. Needles. Water," he rattled off, stretching his open palm across the table. "That's seven items of clothing, please." 

I laughed and slid my fingers over his. "How about one at a time. And let's start with chickens. I didn't know you were scared of chickens. Why?"

"Because they peck."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'? That's enough." He crept his fingers along my forearm and latched onto my sleeve. "Give."

"Okay." I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and slid it from my shoulders, acutely aware of his blazing eyes. "Here you go."

He took it from me, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it behind him.

"Hey!"

"Bats. They have wings and are ugly as fuck."

"They are not."

"Have you ever looked at one up close? Their noses are squashed and they have big, pointy ears." His eyes flicked to Dudley, who was asleep in his bed.

I glared at him. "Dudley does not look like a bat."

"I never said he did."

I sipped some more soup, continuing to glare.

"Another item of clothing please."

"Fine." I reached down and untied my shoes, levering them off my feet and kicking them toward him under the table.