Merry Christmas everyone. Sorry for the long delay but hopefully this chapter will make up for it, it’s one of my recent favourites. As always a big thank you to Mirage_GSM for his proofreading and I hope you all enjoy!
Wine, Scandalous Advice and Moonlight
Ikuno settles herself uncomfortably in the grass beside me. Her sapphire eyes staring fixedly at the vast expanse of ocean before us - a feature of her wealthy parents’ beach house. Though manor would be a more accurate description.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, as if she were building herself up to say something only to find she doesn’t have the words. That’s worrying.
Ikuno has never been one to shy away from talking about her boyfriend. Unless my guess about what’s bothering her is wrong.
“Hey,” I say as softly as I can, unsure what reaction I will get.
She looks at me, a worried frown creasing her round face.
“Hi,” she replies at last. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Always,” I answer, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. Since when is she this cryptic?
“You have to promise not to hate me, okay?”
“Why would I hate you?”
She shrugs, “I just think you will.”
“Well, I promise not to. Now what’s going on?” I pause, racking my brain for any clue to her sudden distress. “Is this why you got me out of bed at ridiculous o’clock in the morning?”
Nodding very slowly she curls her legs up to her chest, resting her chin against her knee. “I’ve wanted to talk about it for ages, but, well it never seemed like the right time.”
She swallows hard. “Miki, do you think I have a perfect life?”
It’s hard not to laugh, but one look of her desperate face keeps my lips tightly sealed. What the hell is going on?
“Well,” I say slowly, considering what I say next, “No? I don’t know, I don’t think anyone has a perfect life. Why?”
With a heavy sigh she looks down at her feet, before starting to speak again more slowly this time. “I… I think I might be jealous of Ryouta and… You.”
Okay, what am I missing?
“I can absolutely assure you a missing hand is nothing to be jealous of,” I say with a smile, hoping to lighten her mood a bit. She looks like she’s about to cry.
Unfortunately my words are met with a small shocked sound, like a kitten stepping on an ice cube.
“I didn’t mean like that,” she says quickly, the words chasing each other out of her mouth. “I mean - oh Miki this is going to sound horrible I’m really sorry.”
I nod at her to continue.
“I’m jealous of your lives and families and, you know, everything.”
Admittedly it was a while ago but I’m fairly sure I told her about my alcoholic mother and absent father, and she’s been waiting ages to tell me this? She waited until we were sitting outside her mansion to say she’s not entirely happy with her lot in life?
My phantom hand tingles excitedly, ready for a fight. As I try not to let the resentment and anger brewing in my gut slip onto my face. Don’t shout at her, not yet.
I tell myself forcibly.
“Miki, you’re not saying anything,” she says timidly.
“I know,” I reply flatly, “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“It’s like, everyone thinks I have this amazing life. And I do, I know I’m really lucky. But I just sometimes wish I could be normal.”
“I think almost everyone at Yamaku feels that way,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“I know, I know. It’s just stupid things, like my bedroom, I’ve never had a bedroom that felt like mine until I went to middle school, I’ve felt more at home away from my family than with them.”
I’ve had the same bedroom since I was a toddler, but it didn’t feel particularly homely when it’s freezing cold and you're drunk mother has passed out without turning on the heating.
I push my stump into my stomach, the tingling pain creeping up my arm. Ikuno has fallen deathly silent. Just stop it.
Being angry her for this is both horrible and stupid, she can’t help being born rich, anymore than I could have prevented my father going to prison.
It’s hard to accept but her wealth in lots of ways has trapped her. Trapped her in a world where her life must appear perfect for the benefit of people who perceive it that way. Like me.
The gnawing feeling of rage in my stomach starts to fade, replaced by an embarrassed guilt that makes me look away. I nearly lost it with her.
“This has really been eating at you huh?” I ask, watching as two fat tears cut their way down her face, leaving glistening tracks in their wake.
She nods, wiping her cheeks on the back of her hand.
“But I don’t get it,” I say slowly, “This morning you seemed so happy, what suddenly brought this on?”
“I’m good at hiding how I feel I guess,” she sniffs, “I just wanted, one last good memory with you, before I told you. in case…” Her voice seems to die in her throat.
“In case I hated you?” I finish her sentence for her.
With pale cheeks she nods, yet more tears falling from her puffy eyes.
Sighing I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards me. For a moment it seems like she might pull away, but she relents and leans against me.
“Why tell me now though?” I ask, “We’ve known each other for years, we shared everything, Ayumu, your screw ups with Ryouta, you never said?”
I don’t know what's worse. The fact that my best friend was preparing to lose me, or that - despite everything - I don’t know her nearly as well as I thought I did.
At least we are back to familiar territory.
“It’s like I’m lying to him. He’s spent ages telling me about feeling pushed aside for his little sister, and I get that. But I feel like he would just be really mad at me if I told him my parents forgot about my tenth birthday.” She sighs.
“They forgot your birthday?” I ask, astounded. Does anyone have a family that’s just normal?
Even my mother managed - on occasion - to remember my birthday, usually a few days late with a halfhearted promise to do something to celebrate. We never did.
“I guess so, or they were distracted.” She shrugs, “My family is all about the achievements Miki, getting the deal through, getting into the best university, getting the top grade, that’s the only time they really pay attention to you.”
She seems more confident now, as if glad to finally be getting these things off of her chest.
“That’s why you worry so much about results?”
I would not do well as a Komaki.
My best friend nods into my chest, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Well, Ryouta loves you,” I say slowly, before she can swerve to far off topic, “He wouldn’t be mad at you for being upset your parents missed your birthday, he’s not like that.”
“I just don’t want to risk losing him…” She wiggles out of my arms, shifting a little to sit facing me. “But we can’t carry on like that, can we? One of us living a massive lie.”
Oh I don’t know, seems to be working out for me and Hisao, at least for the moment.
“All you can do is tell him the truth. But, to be honest I think you're being a little melodramatic about all of this, people who don’t know you might think you're able to spend your way out of shit that upsets you. But we know you, we love you, that’s all you have to remember.”
All you can do is tell the truth - easier said than done
Ikuno face turns dark at my words. I suppose no one likes being told their problems are melodramatic.
Well her problems aren’t, but the idea that all her friends are going to abandon her for sharing them is ridiculous. I brace myself in case she decides to slap me, but after a few moments she seems to regain her focus, and she nods at me.
“I guess, you might be right.” She says, her eyes locked with mine. Though her face is far from certain she offers a resolute smile.
It’s been an odd kind of day this one - and it’s not even lunchtime.
“Well, enough about me.” She beams and it’s terrifying just how quickly she can slip back into her happy go lucky mask. It must mean something that Ryouta is the only person who seems to be able to make that illusion slip.
Oh sure, she cried and fallen apart in front of me, but her boyfriend was always the catalyst. In fact the only time she’s really let anything slide is when I questioned just how in control she really was.
“How were the Nakai’s, what did you two do? Tell me Everything
I’m not sure if we should be moving the subject on.
I can’t help but feel she’s not telling me something important, something she wanted to say but didn’t have the courage to. Now it seems whatever it was is safely hidden behind sparkling eyes and a warm smile.
Distractedly I tell her about my week at the Nakais’, a sense of deep appreciation for her outrage on my behalf as I recall the entire Hisao’s mum debacle from start to finish. Though in the end we found more or less neutral ground, her near friendliness while baking soon replaced with a kind of soft indifference.
I neglect to mention Hisao’s ex-girlfriend. It hardly seems worth it, given the relationship lasted about ten seconds and ended in a heart attack. Though perhaps I should give his heart credit, as far as I know he is still galloping around the paddock.
“It must have been hard,” Ikuno says consolingly, “Not having time alone with each other.”
“Well, wasn’t so bad, they seemed to leave us alone if we were playing video games.” I say with a shrug.
“I didn’t mean that type of alone.” She smirks.
I feel my cheeks start to warm. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in pursuing a more intimate dimension of the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing.
After all, Ayumu and I shared a bed on the first date. Not that it’s fair to compare the boys.
I'd always just assumed that Hisao would make a move in good time, however now, with the end of our time at Yamaku approaching faster than I could have ever imagined two years ago, I can’t help but feel time is running out.
“We’ve not really spoken about... that.” I say awkwardly, “I don’t even know how I would tell him I’m interested. At least, not without being massively embarrassed.”
“You could try standing in front of him in your underwear, see what happens?” She smirks.
“Come on, I’m being serious.”
“I am.” She laughs, “Did you never,” a blush catches at her cheeks, “You know, with Ayumu?”
“No,” I say, and I can feel my own cheeks burning, “Not that far anyway. Have you, you know, with Ryouta?”
I’m not sure I really want to know this, but morbid curiosity has gotten the better of me.
She nods, raising her hands to cover her mouth and fluorescent cheeks.
It should not be all that surprising, after all they were spending nights in each other's rooms all the way back to last year. Still, I always kind of thought I would be the first to have that particular life experience, rather than sweet innocent Ikuno.
“I… Hmmm, so… underwear right?” I mumble, still shaken by her revelation. I can’t believe it.
After everything, all the money and success at school, it’s sex that has me feeling jealous of my best friend. I don’t begrudge her, not really, but it feels like a step up in maturity that I thought I was closer to.
“You don’t have to, I just think boys are rubbish with subtle signs. So you have to give them a big one,” she giggles, her cheeks still bright red.
“Right.” I say, desperately rummaging through my suitcase in my head, trying to work out if I have anything that would be suitable to show Hisao I’m interested in taking the next step in our relationship. Though, if push comes to shove I suppose I always have the option of going naked. Or at least nearly naked, my mutilated stump is staying safely hidden.
“Are you on the pill?” she asks, seeming to regain her composure and suddenly sounding a lot more business like.
I shake my head. The nurse in fairness did offer me some of the small white contraceptives, but I politely declined. At the time sex seemed so unlikely that it didn’t seem worth the effort. A decision I’m quickly regretting.
I’m definitely not ready to bring any little track stars with heart conditions into the world.
That's something I actually hadn’t thought of.
Is Hisao’s heart thing genetic? How on earth would we deal with that?
“Don’t worry, I can lend you a...” She makes a gesture, that to my mind at least, is far more obscene than the word ‘condom’.
“Um, thanks,” I say awkwardly, “But I think I might be getting a little ahead of myself, I don’t know if he even wants to do... that.”
Hell I’m not completely sure I’m completely ready either - what if I’m awful at it?
Luckily before my insecure thoughts or Ikuno’s knowing smile can get the best of me a stable boy pokes his head over the crest of the hill, telling us that lunch will soon be served. His face is unreadable and his voice level. So I can only guess as to what he thinks the two of us, sitting closely together with crimson cheeks were doing.
With a certain amount of reluctance I get to my feet, before helping my best friend to hers. I still don’t entirely know where we stand. But the mask is back in place, and for better or worse we’ve started to head down the steep hill.
I just hope lunch goes better at the Komaki’s than it did at the Nakai’s.
— — —
Our glasses clink in the moonlight, as we make another toast to always being friends - the latest of a number of similar pledges so far tonight. Not that I’m too fazed, Ikuno surprised us with bottles of wine as the sun started to dip below the horizon. Although it might not have been her best move, given the alcohol has affected her far more than any of us, as we finished off two bottles sitting around a table on a hitherto unseen balcony, enjoying some unseasonably warm night air.
I reach for the third bottle, swaying a little as I shift forward in my seat. Wine has been a new - and thoroughly enjoyable - experience for me, the sweet dry flavours are a stark contrast to the whisky that's best swigged like medicine. Filling my own glass I offer up the bottle to Hisao, who nods eagerly. His cheeks are the same warm rosy colour as the wine.
“This is so unfair!” Ikuno slurs, pointing an accusatory finger vaguely in my direction. “This stuff has hardly affected, effected… Affl…” She pauses her nose scrunched up in concentration. “You’re not drunk!” She moans at last.
“I am,” I laugh, “Just not as much as you!” Which is perfectly true - I can feel the familiar buzz inside my own head. Again, a pleasant change to the world bending haziness I aim for. I haven’t felt this way since before Yamaku.
“Nah-huh.” She says, overextending her pointing finger and falling forward.
I manage to catch her just in time. An impressive feet with one hand and a wobbly head.
“Right missy, perhaps it would be best if your boyfriend took you safely to bed, hmm?”
“But, there's still wine left.” She replies in a voice I’m sure is normally reserved for her mother.
Do her parents know about this? Or did she persuade one of her numerous staff to arrange things? I suppose the possibility remains that she took the wine from her parents without them knowing - though that wouldn’t be very Ikuno-like.
When I met them at lunch her mum and dad seemed nice enough. Not exactly distant, but definitely hands off. I get the feeling that a nanny featured heavily in young Ikuno’s life.
It would be hard to picture Mrs Komaki - resplendent in her jewels and fancy dress - ever dealing with a young child. Unlike her daughter, who spent nearly the entire meal entertaining Ryouta’s baby sister.
“Miki wants to get us into bed together.” Ryouta sniggers, drifting into the conversation like a cloud.
“That’s scandalous!” Ikuno says, falling haphazardly against Ryouta. Who rights her lazily.
“Any help here?” I ask Hisao, who has been watching the spectacle with amusement.
“They’re your kids,” he comments reasonably, “Though I think I’m going to bed myself.”
“Oh, might be time for us to go as well then,” Ryouta says, placing a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.
“Yeah,” she replies.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I say rapidly, my ability to keep up with this conversation sadly diminished. “You didn’t want to go anywhere when I said, but Hisao mentions he’s going and you're all for it.”
“He’s the smart one,” Ryouta annonces.
“Can’t argue with that,” mumbles Ikuno.
Unfortunately either my intoxication or theirs has rendered my glower completely ineffective. I will get my revenge for this, in cold blood if needs be - but only after I know my friends are safe.
After much fussing over clearing the table I manage to duck under Ikuno’s arm, and gently help her down the corridor, following her boyfriend to one of the two rooms they are meant to be using. It was a master stroke for her to have rooms up on the top floor of the house, where no one would disturb any illicit sleepovers.
Ryouta almost falls into the room with his normal levels of grace, and heads straight for the bed, not looking back. Ikuno on the other hand holds onto me tightly, swaying gently in my arms.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” she says in a sing song voice, “You’re the best friend ever, ever, like, ever.”
Note to self: Wine and Ikuno don’t mix.
“You’re welcome, now go to bed. You’re going to feel lovely in the morning.”
“Miki,” she says in a hushed whisper.
“Yes?” I whisper back, unsure about the sudden need for secrecy.
“Wear really cute undies!” She nods to herself, as if she had just imparted upon me one of the great revelations of the age. Before turning haphazardly on her heel and walking into the room. Her hand waving over her head in farewell. I close the door behind her, not able to keep the smile off my face.
Turning around I come face to face with Hisao who is watching me from his own doorway.
“Hi,” I say softly, walking towards him with only the smallest sway in my step.
“He-.” His greeting is cut off as my lips find his. To my surprise his hands come to rest on my hips, pulling our bodies closer together. His mouth tastes like wine, but I don’t mind. I must taste similar.
After what feels like a long time, but in reality is only a few seconds I break away, my arms wrapped around his neck. “Are you going to sleep? Because I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh,” he replies, his cheeks flushed from the kiss - or perhaps from the wine. “Will I like it?”
“I hope so,” I try to sound confident, but the uncertainty in my voice is clear. “Go get into bed, I will be in soon.”
“O... Okay,” he sounds half excited and half terrified. Which isn’t too far away from how I feel.
He slips into his room, eyes not leaving mine for a moment. Right, you can do this, move.
I glide to my own bedroom, hardly noticing anything. My head is so overtaken by the thoughts of what is about to happen I reach for the handle with the wrong hand, punching the metal uselessly with my stump. Ow, fuck, not done that in awhile.
Taking a deep breath I try and refocus, opening the door and slipping into the dark room.
“Right,” I say to myself, flicking on the light, “Cute… Right.”
Quickly I unfasten my jeans, letting them slip down my legs, while at the same time kicking off my shoes and bending over to tear off my socks. My over-exuberant removal of clothes does not mix well with the wine however, and I almost fall over. Luckily I catch myself on my suitcase, which I quickly dig through, pulling out a small black, and disturbingly lacy wad of fabric. I can’t believe Ikuno talked me into buying these.
I quickly lose the rest of my clothes, and slide into the underwear. In terms of area covered to yen spent this is probably the most expensive piece of clothing I own. But catching my reflection in the mirror they seem totally worth it. I look good, hell, I look better than good.
I pause reaching for the matching Bra, and instead grab an old baggy t-shirt. Better to have something to hide in, just in case Hisao laughs me out of the room.
Before I step back into the corridor I pull one of the small foil covered packages from the box of condoms that Ikuno left for me, tucking it into my waistband. Well, here goes nothing.
I flick off the light and cross to Hisao’s door in two heartbeats, absolutely sure that there will be a maid on hand to spot me and drop her tray of silverware with a deafening clang.
Rushing into the room - which is a mirror image of my own stately guest bedroom - I close the door quickly behind me. Hisao - still fully dressed - sits up a little straighter in bed, his eyes fixed on me; large and alarmed. Should I say something? Or just show?
Deciding that any action is better than none I stride into a square of moonlight, cast by the large sea-facing windows. How come he gets a better view?
“Miki?” He says nervously, his ruby eyes fixed on my legs.
“Hi,” I say softly, trying to sound sultry but sounding like an old fishwife. “I wondered if you wanted some company?”
Wait. That’s what hookers say isn’t it? Oh fucking hell.
“I always want your company,” he replies, seemingly not noticing my ill thought-out turn of phrase. “You said something about a surprise?”
“I did…” Slowly I raise my arms above my head, pretending to stretch, causing my shirt to ride up to my midriff. My moonlit body has the effect I was hoping for, he looks at me the same way he looked at the mist covered isles on our magical cruise. “May I join you?” I ask, moving my arms to gesture to the bed.
He nods, rubbing his chest. He’s not having a heart attack, that's just what he does when he’s nervous - I hope.
I straddle his legs awkwardly, leaning forward to kiss him. Thankfully he melts against me, and our position goes from uncomfortable to perfectly natural. Why did no one ever explain to me the exact procedure for this? Do I just start ripping off clothes at random or what?
I shiver a little as his hands meet the bare flesh of my waist.
That’s a good sign right?
In response to his touch I slide my own hand down to his belt. Supporting myself on my stump I gently slide my hand under his shirt, feeling the warm softness of his stomach. As if we were playing a game of chess Hisao makes his own move, moving his hand up under my shirt to rest on my back. I guess taking turns makes sense to me.
I walk my fingertips up his torso, to the chest he is always rubbing.
He breathes in sharply, and to my great surprise pushes me away.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. Sitting up on his legs and wondering what on earth I did.
“No, don’t be,” he looks disgusted with himself, “I, I should have told you sooner.”
I don’t feel the same way - this whole thing was a mistake.
“I have a scar,” he finishes at last.
“A scar?” I ask, confused.
“From the surgery, it’s, I.. I’ve never shown anyone before.”
“I… I’ve never shown anyone my…” Is scar the right word for the mutilated flesh at the end of my stump?
“Well, were my hand used to be.” I can feel my voice shake. This wasn’t how I pictured my first time.
He doesn’t say anything, and I notice that I’ve been staring at my stump. Head in front of my face, the unnecessary bandages glowing silver in the moonlight. Slowly, very slowly, with more care than perhaps I’ve ever done anything, I start to unwind the white cotton from my arm.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says quickly.
“I want to,” I reply, watching the bandage curl into a loose pile on the bedsheets, “I don’t want to keep things from you.”
He nods, and with the same care that I’m taking with my bandages starts to pull up the hem of his shirt.
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest at once. It’s not a competition.
“No secrets huh?” he says, the smallest of smiles slipping onto his face.
“No,” I agree, sliding off of his legs, “No secrets.”
The last of my bandages falls away from my arm; at the same moment he pulls his shirt over his head. We meet each other's eyes for a fraction of a second, before refocusing on each other’s scars. His runs down the centre of his chest, and I’m uncomfortably reminded of a cadaver after an autopsy. However looking closer I realize that the flesh is not cold and dead, but raised layers of pink and white.
“Can I touch it?” I ask, resting the flat of my palm against his firm chest. Purposely not looking at my stump, but stoically holding it in place for Hisao to see.
“I.. if you want..”
Gently I trace the outline of the wound with my fingertips. It might be my imagination, but I seem to be able to feel the small dents in his skin where the stitches must have been. Get the idea of a Y shaped scar out of your head right now.
A strange feeling around my arm causes me to look over at Hisao, and I jump in shock.
My boyfriend’s pale white fingertips are tracing around the S shaped scar at the end of my wrist. The skin there is numb, but I can feel the ghostly shivers of his touch slither down my arm, like cold water. Isn’t he disgusted?
All at once it feels strangely electrifying but deeply wrong, as if he were touching a deeply personal part of me. Hell, I think it would be less confusing had he stuck his hand into my underwear.
“I…” My voice catches in my throat.
Hisao pulls his hand away at once, as if scalded. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean… I didn’t think...”
“It’s okay,” I reply just as fast, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. “Just, well, I didn’t expect you to touch it. It’s so ugly.”
“No uglier than mine.”
I breathe heavily, gently shifting my weight so my head ends up resting against his shoulder. His flesh is hot against my cheek, and from this angle his scar is invisible, only the outline of his supple chest and the curve of his cheek. I’m suddenly reminded why I came here in the first place.
Resting my stump next to his sternum, in line with the scar I kiss his neck hungrily.
“Hisao,” I breathe against his skin, delighting in the feeling of his hand against my hip, “I don’t want to think about scars anymore.”
“Mmmhmmm,” he agrees, “Me neither - What can I do to help?”
I can think of a few things.
Careful not to put any pressure on his chest I shift my body once again, assuming my straddling position over his legs. I can’t help but grin as, in one motion, I slip off my T-shirt, throwing it over the side of the bed. With my arms by my side I let Hisao’s eyes grow wide as he takes in the moonlit sight in front of him.
And I thought he didn’t want me…
I pull the small silver packet from my waistband, the condom is warm from being pressed against my body. It shines as I hold it in front of me, Hisao looking momentarily confused before the full understanding of my intentions hits him.
“Distract me?” I ask softly.
— — —
Two things strike me when I wake to a room lit by golden sunlight the next morning. Firstly I don’t appear to be wearing anything. And secondly - perhaps more importantly - I’m not alone in bed. I turn over, coming face to face with a sleeping Hisao, a warm blush spreading over my cheeks as I remember what we did last night.
I don’t think I could have asked for a more perfect first time.
I feel a kind of nervous energy that I haven’t felt in weeks. As carefully as I can I slide out from under the covers, stretching as I walk over to the window. Staying in bed is tempting, but I’m too awake to lie still, regardless of how comfortable it is.
The mattress rustles behind me as I extend my arms as far above my head as I can manage.
“It’s rude to stare,” I say softly, looking over my shoulder to grin at my wide-eyed boyfriend.
“Can’t help it, too beautiful,” he replies sleepily, “Where are you going?”
“I’ve not run in ages, my body is cross at me.”
Finding my underwear amongst the scattering of discarded clothes is proving to be difficult.
“Here,” Hisao says, reaching down between the wall and bed and retrieving the black wad of fabric.
“Thanks,” I reply, snatching them with a burning face and quickly slipping them on.
“Would you like me to join you?” He asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“No.”Placing one knee on the bed I lean over, kissing his lips softly. “You go back to sleep, I’ll catch up later okay?”
He looks like he wants to argue, but a yawn catches him off guard.
I take the opportunity to gently kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
I feel a little guilty leaving him.
This wasn’t a one night stand after all. But I can tell he’s shattered, and a few more hours sleep will do him good. Plus, I would be lying if I said I didn’t relish the idea of running without politeness to my boyfriend holding me back.
Turning from the bed I scoop my T-shirt from the floor, slipping it over my head as I make my way to the door - where I pause, a smile crossing my lips when I see Hisao is already asleep.
— — —
My running kit feels like an old friend as I step into the dark musty room. I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing when I see that not only are Ikuno and Ryouta fully dressed draped over each other on top of the bedclothes, but they are both snoring in perfect unison. Bless them, I almost feel cruel.
I wrench open the curtains, bathing the room in sunlight.
Ikuno is the first to stir, and she instinctively covers her eyes, squirming on the bed. “W… Why?” She asks with a melodramatic groan of pain.
“Who’s the smart one now?” I ask, leaving the room with a giggle.
Running and revenge, the perfect way to start a day.
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