The Search For Shattered Pieces *Complete*

Chapter Sixteen: Dryland Jump Rotations, and "Rocking on thin ice"

Chapter Sixteen: Dryland Jump Rotations and "Rocking on thin ice"

Xavier:

To say, my day has been less than great....is like saying Kim Kardashian has only, a slightly-larger-than-average size ass.  Yes, both are, in fact, gross understatements.  

My day began with a runout of hot water.  Following said, ice cold shower—in the kitchen, right before leaving for work—I had, had, a very stiff, extremely awkward, and decidedly unpleasant interaction (as all interaction, one shares with him, can't help but be incredibly unpleasant) with my stepfather.  The day got progressively worse with each passing hour.  From the flat tire I'd gotten this morning, which subsequently caused me to arrive late to an important meeting— to having an important deal, one I'd worked feverishly on for months, fall through, this afternoon—my mood, I know, is foul as fuck.

What I really need right now is a heavy punching bag, and a sparring partner who, understanding that I'm frustrated as hell, and angry as fuck—would, because of said frustration—let me beat the shit outta him.  Yes.  A round or two or five, in the ring right now would definitely be helpful.  Or even just some time on the fucking ice, hitting puck after furious puck, watching the black disc fly into the net, and slam against the baseboard, would definitely help stem the mounting frustration I'm feeling.

What I don't need? I don't need the distraction of a certain pair of violet eyes...the flutter of dark, sooty, lashes...the incredible scent of jasmine, and gardenia wafting up and teasing my nose.  I don't need the forbidden temptation of the flash of the ivory skin of her thigh as her skirt rides up too high, or the tight clench in my stomach that comes from casting furtive glances at her legs, where her knee high socks have begun to sag slightly.

Holy fuck! I have got to get a grip on myself.  What the ever loving hell is the matter with me? I'm a grown ass man, not some panting pre-pubescent teen getting his first taste of a girl.  And a girl...a girl...yes, Gods, she is a freaking girl, not a woman, a girl...not to mention she's my fucking stepsister.  I cannot have lustful thoughts for a little girl.  No.  No.  It's completely wrong.  I ignore the taunting voice in my head that whispers that she is far from being a little girl, that she is very nearly eighteen years old—and that the age difference is not so great, not so great at all.

Oh God, I'm totally losing it.  My batshit, horrible, crazy day has caused me to go round' the fucking bend.  And why the hell had I offered to pick Lyra up again? No, that's not exactly right, I'd said that Zach or I would pick her up on the days that Trent and Tal have hockey practice.  And come to think of it, my brother had been mightily put out, actually seemingly furious over the last minute meeting he was called on to attend which kept him from being the one to pick Lyra up from school.  He'd stormed around his office, muttering and casting out curse words.  Even as I left to pick her up, he was glaring at me and swearing under his breath.  Why was that, I wonder?

I narrow my eyes, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as thoughts rush through my head at a furious pace.  If I'm honest with myself, I'd admit to the fact of trying to ignore (at every turn, and every minute of the fucking day, lately) the fucking stunning creature sitting so quietly next to me in the car—trying...and very often failing, in fact.  It was just that she seemed to be everywhere now...everywhere in my life...in my brother's lives, for that matter.  She was in my head a lot more than I'd like to admit.  And Gods if I'm not going straight to fucking hell for the thoughts I've been having about her...very, very, very, unbrotherly like thoughts.  Hell, it's all moot anyways, she probably hates me.  I'd been a total ass to her when she first arrived.  And, yeah, it's not like I've been all warm and inviting since then, either.  But hell, what was I supposed to do?  How was I supposed to act when her presence in my life had swept over me like a goddamn tsunami.  I had to try and maintain my anger at her insertion in our lives...I had to give her the cold shoulder, maintain some much needed distance and relativity, right?