1.2 The Chronicles of Us - Rewound & Retold

Chapter four

She's crazy.

Absolutely fucking crazy. Seriously, she makes the lamest jokes and she says the weirdest things. That introduction to the crew was awkward as fuck. She only made it worse by joking to be an actress from some dumb movie. It was so fucking lame, it made me wanna crawl inside myself and pretend not to be around. And worse, I had to suppress a chuckle. Like hell I'm gonna encourage that kinda behavior.

Since I don't wanna give her the idea that is by any means fun, I keep my distance by walking behind her. At least, now that's she's wearing my clothes, she doesn't look like some horror-bride that escaped my personal nightmare anymore. Besides, her ass fills my baggy shorts pretty nice.

Christ.

Even for me, the amount of filthy fantasies that her figure summons are a fucking lot. I scrape my throat and decide to walk next to her. From the corner of my eye, I watch her take in her surroundings as if she's seeing the world for the first time. Her hair sways in the breeze, blowing her curls out of her face.

What does her hair smell like?

When something hits me in the ribs, I jump sideways. "The fuck?"

Did I say that thing about her hair out loud? I fucking hope not. That would be weird.

A warm smile stretches across her cheeks, reaching her eyes. "Guilty conscience?"

The smile that apparently creeped on my own face disappears as quickly as it came. She doesn't know shit about the guilt that I carry. "Don't think that you know me."

Even I'm taken aback by the sound of my harsh voice. We both look away at the same time. Fucking hell. Axel and Joey were right. I'm way too wound up. She was obviously joking, not hinting at my haunting thoughts.

Maybe I should feed her or something. Girls like to eat, after all. I scan the street for an opportunity. There's a food cart on the other side, selling fake New York pretzels. Doesn't really look sanitary. The lunchroom behind it seems like a better choice. We could sit for a bit.

"I'm gonna get something to eat," I say, and start walking. Why isn't she following me?

Right. I didn't exactly ask her to come with me. With my hand awkwardly on the back of my head, I turn around. "You want something too?"

Her big eyes seem almost expectant, her cheeks a little red. Damn. That face could bring a man to his knees. Not me, of course. Yet, I can't seem to break eye-contact. 

The moment ends when she suddenly blinks at the dress in her hands. "You can go ahead. I'm going to try to sell this monstrosity of a gown at that vintage shop over there."

I suppose, she does know how to say something that makes sense. I think I used the same word. "Yeah, that's probably a better idea."

She fumbles with the fabric. "Okay, so I see you later?"

Fuck no.

"No, I'll come along. I wasn't that hungry anyway." Honestly, my gut is too occupied with being weird to feel hungry. I feel sorta nauseous but not like I'm sick.

I follow her into the shop and lean my elbow on the counter, keeping my eyes on her while she yaps with the sales woman. Since her moving lips only summon dirty thoughts, I focus on her tits. This obviously doesn't make it better, but it's hard to look away. Her hand moves to her chest, rubbing the skin above her heart.

Nice.

Wait.

Did that woman just offer two-hundred bucks for that horrible dress? That's outrageous. "That ugly as fuck dress is worth more than that. "She'll take four-hundred and nothing less."