5. #2
You know what the most excruciating part about grief is?
It’s that we don’t get to choose it. It chooses us .
A collection of things happen in a person’s lifetime, most of which are outcomes of specific choices.
Profession, passion, marriage, children – all of them.
Grief, on the other hand, is born of its own.
It witnesses all of those chapters of our lives with us, and where everything else is fleeting and may disappear over time, grief simply doesn’t.
It changes its face; changes its nature.
But it never, ever goes away. Pretty fucked up shit, huh?
I’m distracted from my train of thought when Dorran brings his free hand up and scratches the top of his head.
“Ugh, you’re gross ,” I say by way of distraction, because I don’t want to fall back into the depthless abyss of my mind.
He gives me a bewildered look. “Didn’t you just say that I look like a Playboy model?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I retort, arching a brow at him.
“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”
“What is? My statement from earlier or your current self-proclamation?”
His lips curl as he gives me a rogue smile. “You’re so fucking infuriating.”
“I know,” I all but sing, then put my tongue to my cheek as I rake my eyes over his frame. “I kinda wanna see your abs.”
“What?” the question all but rushes out of him.
“Your abs, Dorran – I want to see them,” I reframe my request for clarity.
He gawks at me like I’m a specimen with a foot for a face. “What is wrong with you today?”
“I’m sorry, but please rephrase your question because this one does not , in any capacity, match my caliber of insanity.”
“My bad,” he says around an airy laugh. “What the fuck are you, you crazy…thing?”
I flash my teeth in a half grin. “That’s more like it,” I praise. “No, but really, show me your abs.”
“But why ?”
“Because I want to see them?”
He looks thoroughly amused as he studies me with a beautiful smile on his face. “You’re mad ,” he deduces perfectly. When I don’t say anything in return, he chuckles while touching the tip of his tongue against the left corner of his mouth. “Alex and Varsha are going to think I’ve lost it.”
“They already think you’re a slut for me; it won’t make much of a difference, I assure you,” I tell him.
“This is a public violation of my body,” he defends himself, even though I know he’s a millisecond away from giving in.
“Good thing I’ve got contacts at the biggest law firms in the country, then,” I counter.
He shakes his head as he smiles again. “You’re so extra.” He glances ahead for a beat, then sighs and looks at me again before briefly lifting the hem of his tank top, giving me a quick view of his very defined abs.
Is it really hot in here, or is it just my boyfriend?
I think it’s just him.
“I wonder how you don’t set off metal detectors everywhere you go…” I voice.
It takes him a few seconds to catch up on my comment, but when he does, he starts shaking his head vigorously. “Nope; absolutely not . I will not let you finish that joke.”
I click my tongue. “But your abs of steel are too–”
“Shut up.”
“They are so–”
“Cignette, I swear to God , I’ll–”
“Listen to me–”
“ No ,” he says urgently, making me laugh out loud.
I turn and lie on my back, still laughing, then place one hand under my head as I lift my phone up.
Dorran’s laughing too, and the sound of it calms me like no song ever could.
“For someone so gorgeous, you sure are a massive pain in the ass,” he quips.
I stretch against the mattress, yawning as I do. “Thanks.”
“Take a nap,” he tells me. “It’ll help in clearing your head.”
“Come join me,” I urge.
He grunts, and his gaze drops, making me realize that my dress has slipped a little, exposing the arches of my breasts.
“If I could, I would, trust me,” he says, seeming torn. “I have a couple more cars to fix before I can come home. I can’t have a backlog for tomorrow.”
“You sure I can’t change your mind?” I bring my fingers to the deep collar of the dress, then push it down all the way, freeing my tits. My nipples pebble and ache as a harsh breeze from outside hits them, making my toes curl.
Dorran’s groan is guttural as his midnight-blues flare. “ Fuck , Little Swan, you don’t play fair.” He studies me again, weighing his options, then clicks his tongue in evident frustration. “Fuck, I can’t. I want to, but I can’t,” he admits.
I purposely drag my long nail over a nipple before pulling the dress back up again. “Fine.”
Dorran looks like he’s in pain, and it’s such a comical sight that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from losing it.
“I hate you,” he mumbles.
“Aww, I love you right back, dahling ,” I chirp, then sit up and fix my dress.
“Right, I’ve gotta go and try filming that video now.
Thank you for indulging me, all for nothing.
Toodles!” I disconnect the call, and as I get off the bed, my phone starts vibrating with an incoming call, making me grin.
I don’t even have to look at it to see who it’s from, but I do anyway, then laugh when I see his name flashing across the screen.
Men… They’re so fucking easy . And even though my guy is a blessing, he’s still a man with a functional dick, so I can only expect him to have so much resistance.
Well, at least he’s competent enough to keep up with my madness and occasional, drunken falsettos, right?
Right.
I really lucked out with Dorran. But then again, so did he, so at least we’re even.