The Guily Ones

Loverboy

The silence that had fallen over the room was suffocating. The only sound was the sizzling of Eric's burning skin, but judging by the way all emotions had drained from his face, I doubted he even noticed.

I waited for the punchline, but none came. I snorted. My thoughts struggled to rev back into gear, but the blood loss made it difficult. Instead of a coherent response, I started giggling.

"So, wait... does that mean Thor is my daddy now?"

Countless inappropriate images of Chris Hemsworth, with and without a shirt, flashed through my mind, swinging his hammer—his literal hammer, of course. Although...I giggled again. "Oh yes, he can definitely be my daddy!"

My mind was still playing catch up, so it took my brain some time to catch up with my mouth. When I did, I wanted to knock myself out. Both Eric and Tom shot me irritated looks, Monroe seemed confused, and James rolled his eyes.

"Let her sleep it off," James suggested, narrowing his eyes as he studied my face. "Might be better if she doesn't remember any of this anyway." He pointed at Eric. "Also worth noticing." His hand pointed between Eric and me "Those two have some weird connection. It could get in our way."

I really tried to follow James' words, but I was missing so much crucial information. This should have been the moment for answers—answers to the questions that had been haunting me for years.

Who am I? 

What happened to me? 

What really went down in New York? 

What's the backstory?

And why the fuck was my dead boyfriend running around, kidnapping me and little girls for some weird dude, called Monroe?

More questions had piled up in the last few hours, but I was so dizzy and so, so tired. Maybe I should take a quick nap. And I was hot. Maybe I could just lie down on the floor and cuddle with Eric. Half-asleep, I stumbled toward him. Eric was always so cold, just perfect to snuggle up to—A loud whistle snapped me back to reality. 

"Hey, Romeo!" James shouted, pointing at me while glaring at Tom. "Your girl is making a move on her lover boy. You might want to do something about it."

Like a scolded puppy, Tom stormed toward me, his shoulders slumped, his expression twisted in a scowl. I snorted.

"Lover boy." I glanced from Tom to Eric. "Can you believe he just called you that?" I whispered to Eric—loud enough that everyone could hear, much to my embarrassment. Eric gave me a crooked grin. His gaze was still wary, probably because of the revelations about me, but he couldn't resist annoying our captives it seemed.

"True. Though I prefer just 'lover.'" He winked, then looked past me to Tom. "But I have a feeling he's not too happy about any of this."

It was a blessing that the blood loss had left me so detached from my emotions. Even when I was drunk, I was never this relaxed. I let out a huff and shrugged. I was mad at Tom. Really, really angry, in fact. But with I don't know how many ounces of blood drained, it was hard to hold on to that feeling—hard to even keep myself upright, actually. I swayed again, barely managing to stay on my feet. "I really don't care if he likes it or not", I mumbled, pouting.

Tom's eyes flashed dangerously as he grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me away from Eric. Indignant, I pointed accusingly at Eric, while being dragged along.

"If you didn't insist on wearing those ridiculously low-cut shirts, the silver chains would've hit less skin, and you could get us out of here, you know!" I grumbled, making a weak attempt to wriggle free from Tom's grip. God, I was dizzy.