[Lol. Okay, my car seat neighbour is Kingsley, Mr. Bothersome himself. Anyway, he seems to believe that just because I didn't sleep last night doesn't mean I should sleep during the day. He finds car games the next best thing after real sport. Guessing the colour of the next car to come past is NOT fun, especially when he always gets white and everybody buys white cars... *rolls eyes* Unfortunately, there are no rules to this game except the loser has to buy a round tonight... with nine people on the trip, I am praying that four more tan/brown cars go past before we get to our stop off for the night... and no more red cars (sorry B)
So, the point of this author's note, was that Kings believes that because he was sitting next to me, reading over my shoulder and pointing out how awesome Larkin is (he believes that I based Lark on him) I should tell you that he wrote half of this chapter... he did not. But he got this mention in my long, boring and annoying message.
Enjoy the chapter... and your sleep. *evil eye* I envy you.
PS. To the side you will see Kingsley's fave song. Doesn't really have anything to do with the chapter... but it is an awesome song.
I would also like to add that I love the band 'We Were Promised Jetpacks'. Awesome name. And they're around my age. And the drummer is mine -.-. Oh! And they are Scottish! Love the Scots (especially their Indie bands!)]
"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage"
- Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Talk | Dizelde
Larkin seemed to forget his exhibition as he ordered me inside, no embarrassment or awkwardness came from him. From me, however, it came twofold. I made up for his lack of concern. Sure, the loose singlet and baggy sweats covered him adequately but my stupid memory kept showing me sights of what was beneath. My rational thought told me to stay several metres away. Insanity told me that if I got any closer than that I might have to touch him. Would those ridged muscles of his shoulders feel as hard as they looked? And he had a set of abs that erased the memory of marvellously sculpted muscle of most of the men at the compound.
He led me into the kitchen, nodding his head towards a seat at the small table, signalling me to sit. I did so quietly. He opened the fridge, looked in there for what seemed like ages, and then slammed it shut. When he looked over to me, his expression seemed angry. I wasn't surprised at the emotion, I HAD given him a bruised nose and shin as well as the swollen hand mark around his ear. But I was surprised that I hadn't seen it on his face until now.
"Who are you?" he asked bluntly.
Fair question. "Dizelde," I answered.
He nodded, as if the name made something clearer to him, and leaned over the counter, angled towards me. His muscles were tensed, as if he were about to push himself up and leap over to me.
"Are you Luke's?"
I frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"
His face blanked for a moment. "I'll take that as a no. Luke wouldn't hide his girl away anyhow. And if you were Garth's he wouldn't have left you with me."
I felt myself blush as I realised what he was talking about. He thought I was one of the two's lover. Oh god, did he want to make me feel even more awkward?