"Wine?"
A weak smile crossed my lips as I glanced up at Dakota. "Got any whiskey?"
"Wine or nothing," he said and tilted the bottle in his hand.
I sighed and nodded. "Sure. I'll take some."
He smiled, turning around to pour us both a glass. I sunk further into the little chair and tipped my head back. The soft sounds of Dakota's boots on the floor let me know when he headed over to the table. I sat back up and took the wine.
"You know," he said, "a lot of the people I've seen post-captivity either drown themselves in alcohol or they never touch it. You seem to be an exception."
"How typical of me," I said, unable to keep the bitter edge from my voice. At one point in my life, it was fun to be that guy, but after everything... It seemed like being the exception only got me into more trouble. I hated it. I wanted to be normal. Maybe then—
"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it."
"Didn't think you did. Just because I got out of captivity a couple weeks ago doesn't mean I'm a fragile piece of china. You can talk without apologizing for an observation."
"Goss said you were like this, but I thought he was exaggerating."
I scowled and glanced up at Dakota. "Like what?"
"So stubborn... proud," he said. "Better that way, though. It means you'll let me in a little more."
"Sure." I took a small sip of the rich, red wine.
"I meant you'll let me in once I actually get you to open up."
I lifted a brow, fighting to keep a half-agitated, half-amused smile from my lips. "What makes you think you're so talented? Also, why do you believe I have anything to 'open up' about? I've already told you everything that happened during my stay at Boone's. We have no prior knowledge of one another, other than our reputations either in Unit 03 or as a spy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were attempting to propose a friendship."
"Maybe I am. Or is that out of the question?" Something flickered in his eyes, and I bit back the urge to scream or feel sick.
"Again, I'm not a doll, Commander Hart, and you'd do best to remember that. Nothing is ever out of the question, and as long as you stop giving me those looks or tampering with the wording of your inquiries, I would not object to starting a friendship with you."
He blinked once and nodded a little in surprise. Out of everything he'd expected me to do, it wasn't that. "All right, but, let me say this and I'll drop it."
My instincts told me that was a lie. "Okay."
"If you ever need to talk or need someone to be there, for whatever reason, I'll be there. Whatever new war breaks out or if you actually give that resignation to Goss, we'll stick together." He almost said it like a question. His eyes were a mix of hope and anxiety. A fear of rejection lurked there.
And despite my better judgment—rid myself of all attachments to Xeniden, pack a bag, and run as far away as I could—I wanted to stay right there with Dakota. He was irritating, and I didn't like the way he looked at me, the things he said, but at the same time, I wanted to hear his words, I appreciated some of that worry on some level.
So, I reached across the table and put my hand atop his. "Always."
"—him. Right?"
"If it's not, he might kill us."
YOU ARE READING
Rinse [manxman]
FantasyAs a former military man, Blake Sabriel understands that his best friend, Dakota Hart, has a duty to serve the realm. Perhaps that's why Blake doesn't mind looking after Dakota's three rambunctious children, or perhaps it stems from the fact that Bl...