Our Finest Moment ✔️

11

LIANA

Having a shower was the closest thing to heaven I'd felt in a long, long time. And the added thrill of seeing Colton's tight butt was also contributing to that feeling.

I'd seen all of him. His inked arms and chest, his wet and ruffled hair, and his...manhood. I don't like that word for it, but it describes it very well, unfortunately. Well, not unfortunately for him, I guess. And by the look and smell of his sweaty t-shirt and gray sweatpants, he needed a shower as much as I did, and he decided to be nice to me.

Not that I minded the smell at all as I followed him through the building and to the staff room, I think, with showers and lockers. I was too busy looking at how his back muscles moved while he walked. I may not like the guy, but I can appreciate a good view.

And now he's taking a six year-old boy to see a circus? My ovaries are aching at the mere thought! Then again...it may be a lie. Being nice, and saying he's nice to a baby brother who may or may not exist, to make me trust him, and spill all my non-existent secrets.

I'm confused.

First of all because of Colton's sudden niceties. He didn't speak much, and when he did, he barked orders at me as if I was Dorian. And then he got naked with me—which sounds way more interesting than it truly is. He let me have an extra few minutes to wash out my hair and the dirt that'd built up for a few months, and then it was back here, to my cell.

At least I had warmer, more fitting clothes now. Purple pants that were meant for outside, with soft fleece insides, and a thick woolen sweater with a zipper up the long neck. No part of my tragic body was freezing, as least.

And secondly, I was confused because Colton didn't tie my hands together or made sure someone watched me carefully while his back was turned in the showers. He...trusted me. At least a little. So maybe whatever deal he'd struck with me would surface sooner rather than later, and I could figure out if I wanted that, or if I wanted to die.

Thirdly, I was just very confused in general about everything. The building, the people, how they could be some sort of criminal organization without the cops knocking on the doors at every hour of every day. They have to be good at their thing, then, whatever that is.

As I sit on my mattress and play with the ends of my brown hair—because it's brown, not black, and I haven't seen the color in a long time—I start to imagine Colton with a little mini version of him, watching elephants do tricks, and people walk on tight ropes. Maybe Colton points at something to get his attention and steals popcorn from the kid's hands, and then pretends like nothing happened.

I swallow, and force myself to stop thinking. I can't let him get to me if that was a lie, to make me think he has some sort of emotions. Because God knows, he's not showing me any. His expression was just as uninterested and stoic as I stood in front of him, dripping wet and only covered by a loose towel, and thanked him. If he had any emotions, he'd have a reaction to it. But he didn't.

A part of me was terrified he'd sneaked a peek at me in the shower, even though I said no. He doesn't really strike me as a person who listens to what others tell him. But he seemed just as cold as before after, so if he'd seen my completely ruined leg, he didn't let me know.

I lift the end of my pants on my right leg, seeing the scarred skin from the fire. It's faded a lot, and I've grown since, so it could technically have been worse...but it's also something that have scared a partner or two away from intimacy before.

Why do I care if Colton saw, or got scared away by it?

I don't.

I push the fabric down again when the door clicks and opens, and Dorian walks in with a tray, and his mouth full of something as he tries to say hello to me. He doesn't lock the door as he sets the tray down and sits at the table, leaning back in his chair with a groan.