Written in the Sand: Book 1 of the "Written" duology

Mistakes

A/N: Smutty smut warning btw; if you don't want to read it, stop when it says: (I'll bold it so it's easy to find!!) 

"I didn't move. I couldn't move."

And pick back up when it says:

"─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───"

Happy reading!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

We walked in silence the whole way to this mysterious place. All the while I admired the fading stars, trying to decipher constellations and making up my own.

I broke the brief silence with myself speaking. "I wonder if I'll ever meet someone who will love me as much as I love the stars..." I thought aloud quietly. Almost too quiet for Hamish to hear me. If Hamish did hear me, he didn't say anything.

Hamish barely looked at me. Well, I wasn't sure if he did or not. I wasn't looking at him.

The sidewalk that we were on led up to an apartment building, the sun well past noon.

Short walk my ass, I thought as I looked up at the building, then at Hamish.

"You want me to stay here?" I asked, awed by how expensive it looked. Hamish gave a nod, holding the door open for me. "Yeah, this is my apartment," He said, pressing the button for the elevator. Soft elevator music filled the quiet room as we ascended the floors. When the door opened, Hamish then lead me to a door, unlocking it, and letting me walk in first.

I gaped at the place. It looked like someone with real money could afford. I didn't say anything, as I was just tired and not feeling myself. "Did you need anything to drink?" Hamish asked. "Water?" He prompted.

I ignored that suggestion. "What about a cocktail? Rum Sunset?" I asked, hoping he knows how to make it. Hamish blew out a sigh and gave a chuckle. "Starting strong," He commented as he walked to the kitchen and was pulling out two cocktail glasses. "I like that," He said faintly. I caught the words, but I think he didn't intend for me to hear them.

Hamish dug through his fridge, pulling out some orange juice and an opened bottle of grenadine. He then disappeared in a side room and came back a moment later with a bottle of rum in his hand. As he was putting the ingredients together, he glanced at me from time to time as I was walking around and admiring the decorations in the apartment.

The apartment itself was pretty open and organized, like someone either wasn't here too often or had a person clean the place. The entryway lead into a huge space, a mix of a dining room and living room, and the kitchen off to one side. There was a hallway that probably lead to bedrooms, which I will investigate later. I walked into the living room and looked around there, running a hand over the back of a leather couch.

"Here you go," Hamish announced, walking over with two drinks in his hands, and giving me one of them. The cocktail looked just as I remembered, when my grandmother had made them when I was younger. She never let me have a sip, but that never stopped me from trying. When I had turned the legal age to drink, I asked her to make it for me. She did one better, though. She taught me how, among other things.

I took a sip of what Hamish had made. I gave a groan as it went down into my insides. "This is so good," I commented, going over to where the couch was and sitting down. "This taste almost as good as how my grandmother used to make them, maybe better," I said, moving the lime garnish out of anxiety. I stared down at the drink and gave an unwanted and tired sigh.