Gunner (EDITED/REWRITTEN)

24- Aria (EDITED)

Since leaving my house, the ride to Gunner's has been quiet. I was in no mood to talk, and Gunner didn't seem like he wanted to talk either. But he also had a look on his face that told me there was something on his mind, and whatever it was, it was consuming him. And now my thoughts are consumed with figuring out what that is because he's been quiet ever since I told him I wanted to stay at his place.

And it hurts me to think the reason behind his quietness is that he doesn't want me to see where he lives or that there's something he's been hiding from me. Curious to hear his reasoning, I looked at him, but when he instantly looked away from me, I knew it wasn't the time to ask, so I scooted closer to the door and looked out the window.

As I watched the world go by, Gunner's breathing caught my ears, and as I listened, I noticed he was breathing through his nostrils—quick, shallow breaths and slowly exhaling—sounding nervous.

Why is he so nervous? Because the moment we got into downtown Seattle, Gunner's breathing became heavier. "Gunner, if you don't want me at your place, please take me home," I begged, looking back at him. "Because I don't want to be where I'm not wanted."

"If I didn't want you staying at my place, we wouldn't be on our way there," he answered quietly, but his response didn't sound very persuasive to me. So instead of saying anything more, and before an argument started, I looked out the window.

Finally, the vehicle stopped, and when I saw the line of people standing outside a building waiting to get inside, I pressed my face to the window after seeing a brightly lit sign hanging from the building. I immediately recognized it as the nightclub Justin had taken me to, and the one Gunner had saved me from getting punched on the dancefloor.

Good, he's taking me to get a drink.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I said, turning my head towards him. I noticed he had my bag in one hand; then, as he reached for my hand, I asked, "Why do you have my bag if we're here to have a drink?"

He wiggled his fingers at me. "Come on," he said, ignoring my question.

Instead of us heading to the back of the line like everyone else was doing, Gunner walked us straight to the bouncers, blocking everyone from going inside. One of the bouncers smiled while opening the door for us. "How's it going tonight, Gunner?"

"It's going all right, I guess. How are things here?"

"A little busier than usual, but all is good," the bouncer said, eyeing me. Then, with his eyes on Gunner, he jutted his chin towards me. "Is this her?"

Gunner looked away from him and down at me with a grin. "Yes, this is her."

"Nice to meet you finally; I'm Greyson," he enunciated, extending his hand towards me. He was cute, young, buff, big like Gunner, with a military-style haircut and dimples that showed in the center of his cheeks as he smiled.

I smiled while shaking his hand. "It's also nice to meet you. I'm Aria," I politely greeted, even though I had a feeling he already knew my name since Gunner had already talked to him about me, which only added to the growing questions I had for Gunner.

"You have a good night," Gunner said to him as he began leading me into the club.

I thought it was interesting; the bouncer didn't look at his clipboard to see if Gunner was on the guest list and how he allowed us to go right in. And because of that, it had me wondering if he's a regular or because they knew what he did for a living and feared Gunner would show them his fists if they refused to let him in.

And I'm also wondering if this is where he comes after leaving my place at night. Instead of going home and masturbating like I first thought, he's coming here to drink.