Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Chapter 15: Lost

A smile flashes on his face for a brief moment and I forget why I'm pretending to be mad at him. I've never seen him smile before. His smile is a little lopsided. The left corner of his mouth pulls up higher than the right. The effect is endearing.

Ryan closes the book, sets it on the bed, and comes to stand in front of me. He takes the gun and magazine from my hands, his fingers brushing mine.

"It's not about whether or not the gun is loaded," he says, turning his head down and to the right as I hear the magazine slide back into the Glock. I'm presented with the flawless side of his face only a foot away. Has he always been so much taller than me?

He looks up at me for a moment before looking back at the gun. "It's about conditioning yourself to never play around with a gun lightly. That way, you don't shoot your roommate when you're making idle death threats and you've forgotten that your gun is loaded."

"Oh," I breathe, trying to stop looking at the way his lips move when he talks.

He returns his gaze to me. "Here," he says.

I blink and look down to see that he's holding my gun out to me. I reach out and take it from him, only to look up and see him turning away from me.

"I'm planning to make something from the cookbook," I blurt, wishing I could keep him this close to me and find some way to coax the smile back. Ryan hums in response as he returns his attention to the bed and the book lying atop it. I retreat back to the kitchen table before I embarrass myself further.

I shake my head at myself. What was that in there? I've been living in Ryan's cabin for over three weeks, was nursed back to health by the man, spent hours upon hours alone with him, even had my clothes changed by him, but I'm just now suddenly becoming shy around him? This is ridiculous. I'm acting juvenile. I resolve to stare at the damaged side of his face if I ever start feeling intimidated by his arresting blue eyes, or dark silky hair, or adorable grin... Ugh! I shout internally. Why am I such a dork? I pick up the Glock, needing an outlet for the nervous energy building up inside me.

~~~

The smell of the chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven makes my mouth water as I reassemble the gun one last time. I set it on the kitchen counter and pull dinner out of the oven. The delicious aroma fills the small cabin quickly. The smell is so enticing that Ryan emerges from the bedroom. He shuffles through the hall and hovers near the two dishes sitting on the counter. I glance over at him and see that he's staring at the chicken greedily. I wonder how long it's been since he's eaten a decent home-cooked meal.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, teasing lightly.

Ryan turns slightly toward me, his right side mostly out of view. "It smells amazing," he says.

"Come with me," I say, picking up the gun and heading to the couch. I sit on the floor by the coffee table. "Ok, thirty seconds."

I disassemble and reassemble the gun as fast as I possibly can, not bothering to lose any of my focus by counting the seconds in my head. When I'm finished, I look back up at him.

"If you say twenty, I swear I'm gonna shoot you."

The left side of his mouth quirks up.

"You really want to use that gun, don't you?"

I look down at the item in question. Maybe if I can learn how to shoot this, the nightmares will go away. Maybe I won't be so afraid anymore.

"What are you planning to do with it once you've learned how to use it?"