Porcelain

Reflexes and Unmentionables

Michael left my house at 5 PM with the promise that he'd work on gathering Luke James' file at the office. Ryan hadn't said much in the time Michael had stayed, but when he left, Ryan took my wrist.

I looked up at him, analyzing his firm and brooding expression.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He looked taken aback. "Sorry, I just-"

"No, it's alright. I'm just not used to anyone caring." He hesitated. "I'm worried."

The sentence settled in the air, and I waited as he studied my face, his hand still on my wrist. His touch was warm, and I felt the goosebumps rising on my skin.

"Can I stay?" he blurted. Confused, I opened my mouth to respond.

"For...the night?" I asked.

He hesitated. "Until I can guarantee your safety."

My mind raced. "Until...June? That's nine months!"

He nodded, avoiding my gaze. "Maybe longer...under the circumstances."

Before I had fully thought about my decision, I was nodding 'yes'. Then, my anxiety kicked in, making me more aware of the consequences of him staying.

"Uh, let me find some space for you...and let me make a call," I added, almost as an afterthought. Probably because it was an afterthought. I whirled around, my nerves wracked. But his hand was still holding onto my wrist. He pulled back, and I nearly fell.

He looked into my eyes, his steely gaze holding my anxious one. "Calling Michael?"

"I...don't want him to think oddly," I said. He searched my face, and let me go.

"Yes. We wouldn't want that." He suddenly felt colder. Or maybe I did; without his touch, he felt more distant in my eyes. "I'll go to pick up my things. You make that call."

He left through the front door as subtly as possible, and after I locked it, I called Michael

Michael picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"He's planning to stay," I said, panicky.

"You're a great conversationalist. Do you mean who I think you mean? And yes, I'm in public."

"Yes, I mean Ryan."

"For the night."

"Yes."

"Okay," he said, matter-of-factly.

"And the nine months after."

A beat.

"Holy shit, really? With you?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, with Malala. Yes, with me."

"Okay, calm down. He's practically harmless."

I stayed silent.

"Okay," he amended, "He's not harmless. He's trained by James and he can catch a blade and you like him. A lot. But, hey, you were trained by James and you can catch a blade and he...likes you...a lot?"

The last fragment of that sentence/question made me want to sock him. Fortunately for him, he was nowhere near me.

"Just figure things out and give me a call when you need me, alright?" Michael asked.

I shut my eyes in frustration. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll call you later. Bye."

I hung up and headed upstairs. Malala was resting on the futon/bed.

Luckily for Ryan, when the program had furnished the house, I had chosen to opt out of the queen-size they had bought me, instead requesting a custom futon for all my claustrophobic needs. I went to the guest room, which was still untouched and clean, albeit with a little dust. I hoped Ryan wouldn't mind it. And he shouldn't. It had its own bathroom, its own interior design, and a whole set of other things that I couldn't care less about. All in all, it was a lovely house and they really had given some thought to the place I would be living in. Maybe it was because they felt bad for me, maybe it was because I had asked for so many specific things that they felt the need to add more. Whatever the reason, I knew that it was expensive. Everything in Colorado was, but I knew I was dissolving a large portion of the department's funds. Then again, I seemed to be worth a lot to everyone with money and a motive.

A small knock on my door and the opening of the lock snapped me from my thoughts.

"Back!" Ryan called from downstairs.

I waited to hear him close the door. "Upstairs! Lock the doors!"

Maybe it was his training, but I didn't hear him come in.

"I always lock the doors." I suddenly heard from behind me. Out of habit and reflex, I swept my calf backward, hooking his knee and knocking him down. As he fell, the suitcase he had propped up next to him fell on his back.

"OW!" He groaned in pain.

"Crap! I'm so sorry, Ryan!" I said, equally embarrassed and amused. I helped him up and he glared at me. His amber eyes bored into me and I flushed. "It's a reflex! You shouldn't sneak up on me like that! I know it's basic stealth training, but I'm so accustomed to hearing sounds, and the sneaky footing is intentional, so if you do that, I do that!"

As I rambled, I caught the hint of humor on his face and I stopped. He smirked a little and shook his head.

"This my room?"

"Yeah." I gestured to the room. "Well equipped. Closet's there, bathroom's there. I'm a restless sleeper, so I prefer not to have a door or a room, in general. If you hear me walking around, don't worry. It happens. Feel free to take any food. Your payment for staying here is your help with James. And yeah. Make yourself at home. Oh, and if you see anything that you aren't supposed to see, please spare me from the embarrassment and stay quiet."

He smirked again. "What am I not supposed to see?"

I blushed. "Like. My unmentionables."

"The cloth kind or the body-"

"Yes."

"Gotcha." He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

I nodded and left the room hastily. I closed the door behind me and went downstairs, Malala following me.

Stressed, I eyed one of the doors closed off from the living room. I groaned in frustration.

"C'mon, Mala. Time to work out all this tension."

Look at that! It's an update! What a miracle!

Hopefully, I can keep this up. Do all the good stuff. The sharing, the commenting, the voting.

Reward me for updating and I probably will update quicker from now on. 

Yay.

~Amira.