The first thing Jericho heard was rain. The first thing Jericho saw was gray. The first thing Jericho said was, "The fuck?"
Throwing off the musty covers, Jericho sat up in the bed and looked around. He worried for a minute that he had been kidnapped, and then he remembered: AJ, Vienna, the dance studio, pizza, and, of course, the cramped apartment.
Stumbling into the bathroom, Jericho splashed some water on his face. As he was doing so he felt something scuttle by his toes, but he preferred not to find out what it was.
Just like AJ had said yesterday, there were some wrinkled t-shirts and sweatpants in the trunk by the windows. As he changed, Jericho swore he could smell something. Bacon, maybe?
Like a hungry dog -- or like a teenage boy, what was the difference, anyway? -- Jericho followed the scent to the front of the room. Guessing AJ had brought breakfast into the studio, Jericho opened the door...
...And almost stepped onto a plastic bag. Inside were dollar store soap and conditioner, a cheap toothbrush and a little tube of generic toothpaste. But none of that interested Jericho like what had brought him over here in the first place. At the bottom of the bag was something warm wrapped in tin foil, and it smelled amazing.
Tossing the bag onto the rumpled bed covers, Jericho unwrapped the foil and took a bite of the breakfast taco. The glorious flavors of egg, cheese, and, yup, bacon, filled his mouth. If his friendship with AJ didn't amount to anything else, at least there was the great food.
Still chewing, Jericho headed down the stairs toward the dance studio and whatever confusing torture awaited him today.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing Through Bullets
ActionAll pasts are hard to hide from though it's harder to do so when they're chasing after you. Jericho is running from his past. AJ is a dancer who will get sucked into that past when they unexpectedly meet. When Jericho first steps foot in the studi...
