Chapter 23 #2
Jodi hadn’t expected the Black Halo lot to leap into action so dramatically.
They were all halfway to the treeline before her lot had even found their feet.
“Shit. Shit. Come on,” Nash dragged her along a few paces, her hand in his, but it’d always been difficult to run hand in hand despite what movies would have the world believe.
She shook him off, only for Balin to scoop her off her feet, twirl her around and set her down facing the wrong way.
“I need that bed more than you and Curtis.”
“Balin, you git!” She tore after him, only for her foot to find a tussock, and then she was down. Splat! Face first.
“Oopsie!” Rock Giant helped her to her feet and dusted her down. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think. Maybe.” Her hands were scraped, her heart galloping, but nothing was bleeding, and her knees were sore. “Just humiliated.”
“Falling over is just part and parcel of life. We’d better scarper.”
She tried a step and pain sliced through her ankle and up her leg. “Fuck!” She tried again with the same stellar result. “You go. Looks like I’m sitting this one out.”
Ash and Ginny had made it to the sixties. They were standing with hands over one another’s eyes by the fire’s embers. There was no sign of anyone else beyond the empty bottles and cans they’d left behind.
“Nah, I’ve a better idea.” He scooped her up into his arms, making her squeal, but instead of running for the treeline as she’d expected, he about turned and carried her onto the Black Halo bus.
She guessed no one had specifically said they couldn’t hide there.
That’s if hiding was what they were doing. It was what they were doing, right?
“Paul.” He carried her through the kitchen and upstairs. This bus was massive compared to the one she was staying on, and it was no pipsqueak. She wasn’t sure she’d appreciated that during her prior visit. There were multiple rooms, not just two and the facilities.
“Where are you taking me?” Not his bed, she hoped. “Not the roof?” is what she said.
“Tempting but no, not on this bus, even if it is a nice night for stargazing.”
He led her into the bunk room. One of two, he explained. This one is just for the band. Dammit, while everything was just as cramped, it felt different to the Ghost Boys bus, more like a home on wheels rather than a shagging shack. It smelled like it maybe got aired more regularly, too.
“Which one’s yours?”
“Top, left-hand side.”
“That cos of your long legs?” He was right up by the ceiling, and she could see he had things taped up there, but not the details. Also, it was too high up for him to be planning on depositing her there.
“Not so overlooked up there. The bottom has a similar vibe, but you’re constantly confronted with arrays of feet traipsing past, and I’m not much for being kicked in the head.”
“That happen much to whoever’s down there?”
“No one in their right mind would do that to Spook.”
“’Cause he’s such a sweetie?”
“’Cause he’d a sadistic motherfucker, and he’d make you pay for it. Luthor’s on the other side at the bottom, but if he’s ever slept there, it’s news to me.”
“Him, Xane, and Dani squeeze into one bunk?”
“Nah, that’s a bit too sardine like even for them. They tend to commandeer the back bedroom. Downstairs. Like the one on Bertha the First, if you remember that.” Maybe Luthor would wind up in his bunk tonight, if someone else won the night in the bedroom.
Also, yes, she remembered the back room. She also remembered landing in a tangle of limbs with him on that bed when Bertha bus had decided to masquerade as a sailboat. Okay, that might have possibly been her fault.
Beyond the bunk room at the very back of the bus on the upper floor sat a small room containing U-shaped seating around the edges.
A flatscreen occupied one wall, and various paperbacks and projects were jumbled together in the corners.
Rock Giant lowered her onto the seat, then shuffled some stuff out of the way.
“Right, let’s take a look at that ankle.”
“Was it really necessary to carry me all the way up here to do that?”
“First aid kit’s up here. Also, wouldn’t mind winning the game. My bunk’s not so bad, but I’d love a decent stretch out.”
Just as long as he wasn’t imagining them sharing it, like, for instance, she was.
“I’ve a Prince Albert piercing,” past Rock Giant said in her head. “Wanna look?”
“Yeah. No. I mean that wouldn’t be very appropriate.” They had only just met.
It wasn’t appropriate now.
“Let’s have a look at this ankle.” He felt around the bone above the top of her shoe. “Can’t feel any... Hang on, what’s this?” He pulled a teasel out from between her skin and her sock. “Try your ankle now?” Jodi put some weight on it.
“I think it might be okay.”
Paul gave his chin a scratch. “Well, while I’m down here. Let’s take a look at those knees, shall we?”
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
He ignored her and raised her trouser legs. Luckily, they were of the wide-legged linen variety so didn’t get stuck on her fat thighs.
Paul pushed out his lower lip as he inspected her wounds. Long fingers gently probing the flesh. “Bruised, and they’re going to be a bit scabby, but you should live.”
“Sure I won’t need an amputation?”
“Nah, think one of these should do the trick.” He pressed his hot lips to her knee. Jodi’s breath caught then released as a squeak. His hand was warm against her calf. His lips pleasingly moist. Cheekily, he slid his hand upwards to the underside of her thigh.
“Paul!”
“Just checking there aren’t any scrapes I missed.”
“No you’re not.”
“Fine, I’m copping a feel. Does it make you happier if I’m honest about it?”
She’d like it if he didn’t present himself as a fucking ginormous ball of temptation. “I think you’d better stop it,” she mouthed, hardly making a sound. She wasn’t going to win any assertiveness awards for that whisper.
Paul eyed her, gaze full of mischief. His index finger swished back and forth another couple of times, riding perilously close to the apex of her legs, then he sighed and rolled back onto his butt, and crossed his legs. “Spoilsport.”
“I shouldn’t even be in here with you.”
“My sweet, you should be sharing every damn minute with me. We should be nailing one another like the sky’s about to fall and spending unholy amounts of time staring dreamily at one another and wondering how we got to be so lucky.”
The reason they weren’t doing any of those things really could be boiled down to one word. “Nash,” she said.
“Yup, got the memo. Guess we’ll just have to pass the time with a quiz instead.”
“A quiz? What, like general knowledge?”
“Like ask me whatever thou wishes to know. Anything. Absolutely anything.”
“Favourite pizza.”
He made a dry scoffing noise and rolled his eyes. “Anything I say, and she asks me that.”
“It’s an important question.”
“Only if you’re planning on treating me to dinner. In which case I’d prefer a paella to pizza, but if we’re going with pizza, mushrooms, and jalapeno. You?”
“Mushrooms are gross. And after the last lot of mushrooms you fed me, I’m never going near them again.”
He leaned in, blinking at her in a flirty fashion. “I can see this is going to be a point of contention between thee and me. It’s not like anything bad happened.”
She’d been about to say, it definitely had but stopped herself just in time.
After all, he might not take it how she meant it.
That it’d caused them both trouble, not that he was bad.
He absolutely wasn’t. In fact, he possessed, of all the qualities a girl could want in a partner, if said girl was free to take him thus, which she wasn’t.
“You okay, Castle?”
“Fine.”
“So, separate pizzas, when we order.” Like that was definitely a thing they’d be doing at some time. “What are you having on your half?”
She cycled through the options in her head. “I’m mostly a garlic marguerita girl.”
“So, you’re telling me I have to put up with your garlic breath?”
“I have to put up with your ’shrooms.”
His smile didn’t waver. “They don’t typically leave an aftertaste.”
Last time they had. A bitter one she was still struggling to handle.
“No matter. I’ll claim one of these as advance compensation.” He grasped her hand and kissed her inner wrist, then sat back again, laughing at her outraged tut.
“Oh, Mr Reed,” he said in a mock Regency upper class falsetto. “Such liberties you take. I’m quite overcome.” He pressed the back of his hand to his head. “Deary me, I feel quite... faint.’” And he flopped onto his back as if he’d passed out.
“Mean,” she complained.
“Moi?” He lifted his head and crooked a brow.
She tossed the nearest thing to hand at him, which turned out to be a ball of wool that unravelled into a pastel yellow tail.
“Shit!” She caught the hook to which it was attached before it flipped onto the floor or lost the stitches.
Paul caught the wool ball and began rewinding it towards her until they met up. Him on his knees before her again. Her still clutching the crochet hook, with too much heat in her cheeks.
God his eyes were pretty.
“Sorry.”
“No harm done.”
“Is someone pregnant?” She’d realised what was attached to the hook. An array of delicate stitches.
“Um, no. Not as far as I know.” He took it from her and tucked it away in a corner. “Everyone was drinking tonight.”
“Then what’s this?”
“It’s mine.”
“You crochet?”
He pursed his lips. “Aye, what’s wrong with that?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it. I’m just...”
“Just what?”
“Pleasantly surprised.” Intrigued. A little bemused that such a huge man would opt for such a delicate hobby. Then again, he was a practical person, why wouldn’t he engage in a traditional craft? “What are you making?”
His shoulders remained slightly hunched, as if he was expecting her to mock. “Hats. Baby hats. They’re for the neonatal ward.”
Christ, her heart was going to burst if he kept presenting her with reasons to adore him.