Purposefully Coincidental ✓

14. Macarookies

Josephine

During the car ride back to my apartment, he tells me more about sniper school and just what really goes into being an excellent sniper.

He usually doesn't say a lot, but when he's talking about something he loves and knows a lot about, he turns into a talking machine.

I look at his profile. His straight nose, strong jawline and a few days' worth of facial hair. They add more to his mysterious vibe he has going on.

When I saw him at the steps leading to my home in his jeans and white shirt that revealed every muscle, I almost started salivating.

He's big and strong. His arms' tendons moving and bulging every time he shot a gun or expertly dismantled a gun and put it back together in a few seconds.

He answered every question I had. No matter how silly it was.

His voice is calm and clear, talking with enthusiasm.

His fingers are...well, I don't know how else to describe them then as manly. How they wrapped around my small ones when he helped me hold a rifle. When he stood behind me, his arms around me holding the rifle, I could feel the warmth he radiated even though we weren't touching—only our hands.

He parks his truck in front of my building and he unbuckles, walks around the hood to my side, and opens the door for me.

From the few times I've ridden with him in this car, I've gotten the hang of the seatbelt, so I don't require his help this time.

He rests an arm on the roof of the truck and drapes the other on the door, caging me.

"I really enjoyed today." I say honestly. He smiles down at me because even though the truck is high, our faces are still not on the same level.

"Me, too."

"We should do this again some other time."

He seems surprised by my offer.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." I chuckle. "Are you kidding me? Guns are super cool."

"They can be." He says and steps back, offering his hand to me.

I take it and I jump down, his hand flying to my waist in fear of me planting on my face.

I beam at him when I successfully land on my feet.

"So..." he glances around the street, not knowing what to say.

"I'll text you when I'm free so we can do something equally fun again." I suggest.

"Yes, okay." His brows furrow as he looks up at my apartment building. His serious face makes me wonder if this is how he looks when he's aiming his sniper rifle at his target. He looks lethal, yet beautiful at the same time.

"Do you need me to walk you up?" He glances at me.

"It's alright. I'll wave at you from the window."

"Yes, do that." He nods.

I don't live in a sketchy place at all and there's a doorman during the night, so it's a safe building. But his concern is sweet.

"See you next time," I wave, then walk away.

I turn in the lock at my apartment and notice that it's unlocked. I know for a fact I locked it. Before I can panic, thinking a burglar or a murderer entered my home, I see my youngest brother, Julian, perched on my couch, a beer in hand.

"What are you doing here?!" I hiss at him.

I hang my purse and keys on the hanger next to the door and go to the window.