Kingsman: The Devil's Gamble

Chapter Eighteen

I was still reeling from me and Whiskey's small victory several days later. By this time, we had already traveled across the country, having traveled on Interstate Forty for God knows how long. I swear, we'd been traveling on this highway since we got out of Vegas. Then again, the highway is a pretty easy gateway into Tennessee.

Of course, some backroads will eventually lead us to Chattanooga, but that's besides the point.

"Good mornin', Sleepin' Beauty," Whiskey said cheerfully.

I looked around to try and figure out where we were, but I was still in that phase of waking up. That meant that everything around me looked like a blur, and that none of my surroundings seemed real. It would take me some time to get used to that.

"Where the hell are we?" I asked groggily.

"Well, we'll be arriving in Memphis in about five minutes or so," he answered, "so I hope that gives you a rough idea."

I rubbed my eyes to try and wake myself up. "Fuck," I groaned. "How long was I out?"

"About eight hours, sugar," he confirmed.

My eyes widened with complete shock. "Jesus Christ! I guess I was tired as fu—"

"I know, I know," he interjected. "That's why I stopped at a Starbucks and got ya somethin' to wake ya up."

"You didn't have to do that, Whiskey," I said.

"But I had to," he said back. "I figured you'd be tired, so I got ya something for when you woke up. Plus, I needed a boost too."

My eyes softened as tears started to form in my eyes. But it was the kind of tears that were happy. Happy over how caring and thoughtful Whiskey truly was.

"Aww," I cooed. "What did you get me?"

A proud smile spread across his face. "Well, sugar. I got you your favorite, of course! A venti chocolate cream cold brew with four pumps of their brown sugar syrup and extra chocolate cream cold foam. Oh! And I also made sure that the cold brew was just frothed almond milk because I know how your body's affected by the regular two-percent."

I slammed my hands on my chest as if I was having a heart attack. But in actuality, I was just gushing over how sweet Whiskey was. "Aww," I said.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I also got you a spinach, gouda, and egg white wrap," he said, handing me the bag, "because I figured you'd be hungry. I got you that so that you wouldn't be hangry when you woke up."

My bottom lip stuck out, almost like I was pouting, but I wasn't. I was still wondering how Whiskey could be so goddamn sweet like this. "Thank you, baby," I said sweetly.

"Of course, sugar," he answered.

Goddamnit! Whiskey is such a sweetheart! He truly is a gift from God. Or Devin, maybe. I truly don't know what I did to deserve him.

"So, what did you get?" I asked.

Cheeky as can be, Whiskey proudly held up his drink to take a sip. "Same thing you got. I figured that if you liked it, then it has to be good. And let's just say you have amazing taste."

"Amazing taste in drinks and in men," I responded.

That's when Whiskey gave me a wink and a slight smirk. "You're damn right you do, sugar."

My heart exploded with an overwhelming feeling of love for Whiskey. Goddamn! He's so fucking fine that it ain't funny. Inside, I was squealing like a little girl, gushing over how sweet and considerate he is. No other man on Earth who's fighting for my love will ever compete with Whiskey. I'll choose him every time in a heartbeat.