Chapter 5
Day Two: The Daily Grind
Jordan
As expected, routine was a significant part of prison life, so after I fell asleep feeling annoyed, I woke up feeling the same way. I was angry at Adam. At Chief Bibb. At myself. I had a beef with everyone, but sadly, I was in no position to do anything about it.
Adam was sleeping on the mattress on the floor, and since we lived in a matchbox, we were close enough to touch.
During the night, my hand shifted into a position I never approved of, and now my fingers rested on his bare chest. I could feel his smooth skin under my fingertips, and the heat radiating from his body.
I could feel his chest hair and the subtle movements every time he drew a breath.
I considered removing my hand, but I feared he would wake up and accuse me of groping him, so I did nothing.
Instead, I just lay there and watched him, wondering why he attracted me so much.
It certainly wasn’t his personality. He was handsome, sure, but there were lots of handsome men in the world.
What did he have that those other men, or women for that matter, didn’t have?
Also, while ogling his half-naked body, I noticed he had morning wood.
The anaconda between his legs wasn’t flaccid anymore, not by a long shot.
I almost exclaimed, "See? It can happen to anyone”, but it was hardly a valid point.
When the tip of his dick peeked out of his boxers, all shiny and purple with arousal, my mouth watered.
It was when I forced myself to look away because I wasn’t a masochist, although Luz accused me of being one.
Why? “Because you’re stuck on that arrogant bastard, as if he’s the last drop of water in the desert. ”
At that point, Adam woke up because I could hear him yawning.
“I thought you were an insomniac,” I mumbled into a pillow.
“Yeah, well, I might have found a cure,” Adam replied quizzically, standing up.
When I saw him rearranging himself with a painful grimace, I felt slightly better. God might have given him an anaconda between his legs, but at least it made him uncomfortable on occasion.
“Problems?” I said, against my better judgment.
Adam blinked. “Are you trying to provoke me, or is it just my imagination?”
“Do you have one?” I muttered.
“Jeez. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
So, yeah, Adam and I kept bickering over the years like two three-year-olds. Luz swore it was sexual chemistry, but I wasn’t convinced. Scarshit showed no emotion towards me except animosity and, well… over-protectiveness.
After they brought us breakfast, we ate in silence for a while before Adam spoke.
“If they send me to that farm and I don’t show up for lunch, don’t freak out again.”
“I hope they won’t. You smelled like manure.”
“Yeah, well, you smelled like potatoes.”
“No wonder, since I peeled a few tons of that revolting vegetable,” I grumbled. “I have cuts on every single finger, and I can’t feel my thumbs. Even my nails hurt.”
“Let me see.”
When he took my hand in his and turned my palm up, I froze on the spot. I couldn’t move or speak, but my dick twitched, fully mobile.
“This wound looks serious,” Adam said with a frown, moving his thumb over my palm. “Let me give you a little massage. Or should we take you to the infirmary instead?”
I slapped his hand away. “Fuck off.”
He chuckled. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. We're in weird shit, if you haven’t noticed.”
Weird wouldn’t begin to cut it. His behavior was so off that I kept wondering if the aliens had kidnapped the old Adam and returned him all screwed up.
Or maybe they replaced him with the fake Adam.
Or his entire personality changed, which made even less sense than the aliens. Or maybe I didn’t know him at all.
“It doesn’t matter,” Adam mused, gazing into the distance. “Things will go back to how they were when we get out of here.”
And that right there was the crux of my problem.
I didn’t want things to go back to how they were.
I wanted Adam as he was now… talking to me, joking with me, touching me.
On the plus side, at least I wasn’t embarrassed about my shower boner anymore.
The time we spent here proved to me one thing—we were all human.
Accidental erections and hand massages were just part of the process.
After a shift in the kitchen and lunch that I ate alone in the cell, they sent me to the yard. When I spotted Adam there, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed his way.
“How come you’re not at the farm?” I said when he wrapped his arm around my waist and yanked me toward him.
I squeaked in shock before realizing that he did it to shield me with his body.
When I looked over my shoulder, I saw an inmate throwing himself at a guard and trying to seize his baton.
The other inmates started hollering like animals in the zoo, while more guards rushed to help their lone colleague.
After a short tussle, they tased the troublemaker into submission and dragged him from the yard.
“Jesus,” I muttered as Adam released me. “What the hell just happened?”
“That was Crazy Stu,” Miguel replied, suddenly appearing by my side. “His brain is fried from too much dope.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Adam grumbled, sizing him up.
“He’s the guy I was telling you about,” I said, placing my hand on Adam’s chest. “From the kitchen. Chill.”
Miguel grinned. “I like you, big macho guy. You a bit cranky, but your heart is in the right place. I get why he likes you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like you, kitchen guy,” Adam countered.
I glared at Miguel, mouthing, “Knock it off”, when a funny feeling made me turn my head. I scanned the yard, searching for the cause of my unease, only to spot the creepy guy from the shower standing in the distance. His sneer told me he didn’t forget me either.
“Don’t look there, cabrón,” Miguel said in a low voice. “That’s Moses, Crusher’s right-hand man. Aww, man, he’s looking at you as if you’re a snack or something.”
“Yeah, and if he doesn’t stop, I will cut his eyes out with a spoon,” Adam bit out.
“I presume it wouldn’t help if I told him I’m not homosexual,” I joked, but Adam didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked homicidal, so I was relieved when they sent us back to our cells. Once there, he pissed me off the moment he opened his mouth.
“Can you explain to me how you managed to catch the attention of the biggest psychos in this institution?”
“Excuse me?” I exclaimed. “What kind of a stupid question is that?”
“A legitimate one.”
“I didn’t do anything that would—”
“Count! Stand in line, inmates.”
After that, it was time for dinner, which meant a crowded chow hall, a bunch of hungry inmates, and a smell of fish and trouble in the air. With our trays full, Adam and I found an empty table in the farthest corner of the room.
“Dinner sure looks appetizing,” Adam said with a frown, staring at his plate. “What the fuck is that?”
“It’s a fish patty and mashed potatoes,” I replied, smiling sweetly. “The potatoes should taste extra sweet since I made them for you. How awesome is that?”
“You peeled them,” Adam countered. “It doesn’t make you a head chef. Incidentally, do you know how to cook?”
“I know the basics, but I can’t say I enjoy the activity,” I replied honestly. “You?”
“Yeah, I can cook just fine.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”
Adam chuckled. “Why not?”
“You don’t seem the type.”
“And what type do I seem like?”
“Like a make-me-a-sandwich type.”
“Well, you’re wrong there, princess. There’s more to me than this awesome body.”
“And how will you prove it to me?” I joked, trying to hide my fluster and not think about his body.
“I could make you dinner,” Adam mused. “I probably won’t, though, because after we leave this place, I won’t want to see your annoying mug for a while.”
I considered strangling him when he pointed his chin in a general direction.
“Our target just came in, by the way.”
“Santiago?” I murmured, keeping my eyes on the plate. “Where is he?”
“In the far corner of the room. Don’t look.”
“I’m not a fucking rookie,” I growled when someone stopped by our table.
I looked up, only to see a mountain-sized individual with creepy yellow contacts staring at me. He had short, spiky, bleached hair, a tattooed face, and more muscles than brain cells. When he sneered, revealing metal braces that looked like animal traps, I swallowed with difficulty.
“Anyone claimed you yet?” he said in a grating voice that gave me the shivers.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Your ass. Anyone claimed your ass yet?”
“Get lost,” Adam said, eating his food as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Our uninvited visitor fixed him with a glare. “I’m Skull Crusher, inmate. You will speak to me only when spoken to.”
My eyes widened in alarm because I could see the situation escalating quickly, so I decided to intervene.
“Mr. Crusher, I’m flattered by your proposition, but I will have to respectfully decline.”
The creepy dude cupped his crotch, bringing my attention to his very obvious boner. “You’re funny, too, huh? I like that. I like them pretty and funny. Pretty, funny, and Moses tells me you have the cutest ass in—”
The first thing that stopped him from finishing his sentence was Adam’s plate slamming into his face. The second thing that kept him silent was Adam’s hand gripping his larynx.
“The fuck did I just say?” Adam growled, pushing the remains of the mashed potatoes into the guy’s mouth. “Did I or did I not tell you to get lost, you maggot?”
Crusher made a choking noise, his feet leaving the floor as Adam lifted him in the air.
“Adam, please stop,” I pleaded, aware of Moses and his pals closing in on us. “You will get us killed.”
“Look at him one more time, and I will end you!” Adam bit out, never minding me. “One more time and see what happens, you fucking tool!”