Nikita is a thirty-something woman with a need for independance, fun and to find her place in life and in the world in general. Growing up in Japan as a military brat had taught her alot about life and people in general. All things that she held ont...
A.N: This is a newer one guys. I've been on a Ruki kick, lately (no surprise there, it's me after all a Sixth Gun for life.) This is just casual writing. It's an idea that formed a few days ago and I decided to at least start writing it before I completely forgot the idea and plot that I've developed. But anyway. Please enjoy.
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Death. I wanted death! At this point, it was the only option. I couldn't believe that I had said what I had just said. And straight to his face too! Like, where the fuck had I found that audacity!? Never mind the courage! Which wouldn't have been so bad if not for his expression changing immediately to crestfallen, followed by him looking around awkwardly and blushing a little. Clearly, he wanted to look literally anywhere but at me. And at this point? I did not blame him one iota. I wouldn't want to look at me at the minute, either. Gods! Where had my logic and sanity gone!? They were A-FUCKING-WOL!
"Uh...um...so..." He started to try and speak but got frustrated when his full and rudely inviting lips wouldn't move the way he wanted them to. But to his credit, he soldiered on.
"Fuck me! What I mean to say, Nikita, is that I'm flattered. Really, I am because you are a gorgeous woman. But to accept going on a date? I couldn't possibly, because, well...."
"Oh gods... you're gay, aren't you!?" I practically yelled, cutting him off and startling him. Great! Real smooth, Nikita. I thought to myself, starting to wonder where my intelligence had also fucked off too. If I'd even had it to begin with.
"What!?" He sputtered, looking a little offended at the insinuation. But then, I guessed that was to be expected. He lived half his life in make-up, excessively styled hair and eccentric outfits. I was sure he'd heard it plenty of times before and was quite sick of it by now.
Before I could say anything more, though, which was honestly a good thing at this point, he shook his head roughly.
"No! God no. I'm not gay. Not that I have a problem with those that are or anything. But I definitely don't swing that way. What I was trying to say is I couldn't accept a date with you, because I'm married. And have been for ten years."
Upon hearing this, all thoughts and words utterly failed me. All my body could do for me was widen my eyes comically and let my mouth fall open a little in shock. I felt the blaze of heat in my cheeks and just knew then that I was making my best impression of a tomato. Oh, gods. This was even worse!
Honestly, I would have preferred him to be gay. At least then, I wouldn't be suffering the complete and total mortification of realising that I had been hitting on a married fucking man! This whole time. And not once did I realise or get told that he was, in fact, very much taken already. He had never given me any indication that he was in a relationship, much less married to someone. He never wore a wedding ring, either! Honestly, it felt almost like a trap he set to see how much I could embarrass myself before catching on. But realistically, I knew this was unlikely to be the case. He was too much of a sweetheart to pull such a dick move. So no, there was most likely a perfectly logical reason why he hadn't told me until now.
