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I sigh, and I take off my jacket. I spread it over the grass, and I make her sit on it instead of sitting down on the grass.
“Oh, why, thank you.” She grins, and I inhale sharply.
“Why are you being like this?” I ask softly after we sit in silence for a minute.
She pauses as my hands fall on the handcuffs. “Am I doing anything wrong?”
“You hate me, so why are you—”
“Being nice?” I add. I look away, feeling pathetic.
“Look, Antonio, I also liked you when you walked into my room and were a brute.” Her tone softens, “At least, then, I had every reason to hate you.”
“So you all think I am weak,” I mutter.
She catches the tone in my voice, and she smiles. “Is that what this is about?”
I don’t answer.
“I don’t think you’re weak. I have always thought you were one of the strongest men I know. The great Viper.”
I roll my eyes, and she chuckles.
“I thought that I would take this to my grave, but lord knows that the past few weeks have me doubting if anything matters,” she pauses, and I turn to her. She leans over toward me. “I used to have a big crush on you back when I worked in the club.”
I find my lips curving into a smile despite myself.
“Not that I am special in that way. Everyone there wants you inside them,” she adds.
I clear my throat, and I look into her face, now beautifully illuminated by the moonlight. “That isn’t so bad.”
“I mean, I used to pleasure myself while I looked at your Facebook pictures, but who cares,” she spits out, shaking her head.
I throw my head back, and I burst into laughter. She fights to hit me with her cuffed hands and fails.
“I know you own me and all, but take this to your grave. I am being so serious,” she snaps as peal after peal of laughter leaves my body.
“What’s wrong with you? It’s not even that funny. Why are you so tickled?” she cries through my laughter.
With a smirk on her face, she says, “Ugh, I fucking hate you.”
I turn to see her sniffing in laughter.
“That’s more like it.”
She watches me as I gather myself.
“I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”
She nods. “I can tell, and I can’t blame you either.”
“How can you tell?”
She tilts her head back and forth like she is thinking.
“I mean, the kind of work you do. I doubt that it leaves any room for joy.”
Her words strike something within me.
