Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

special attention and walk away unperturbed? Silly naïve woman. Did she not hear what I said moments ago? I always get what I want, and right now I want her.

As she plugs it in, I lean over and tear the plug out of the socket. Her eyebrows shoot up and she looks surprised as I turn her monitor off and lean against her. So close I can feel her warm breaths against my face, I state, “We’re not done talking, beauty.”

Three

Aidan

She’s bewildered by my action. Her face goes blank as she looks at me. “What is it that you want to talk about?” she says, and all humor has died off in her voice.

“Anything,” I reply, and then shrug. “Everything.”

She hesitates. Her eyes flicker from the monitor and then back at me. She’s silently debating this, and I’m curious about her indecisiveness.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I suddenly ask her, smiling purposely to ease her. “I promise I won’t bite, Ivy.”

“You’re close enough to,” she responds a little breathlessly.

She’s right. I am. God, I would. My face is inches from hers, and neither one of us is pulling away. I want to fucking bite her hard. My gaze drops to her lips and I envision nibbling at that bottom one. I wonder if she’d squirm or melt against me. I wonder if she’d moan my name or hold her breath. Would she be a silent lover, or a loud one? Maybe both.

Adrenaline courses through me, and that’s no good. I can’t be undone by a black- and red-haired girl in the back of a passenger jet while a kid continues to thump, thump against the back of my seat. So, I pull away and give each other just enough distance to breathe, and I regret it immediately.

“You’re the one that talked about not suffering alone,” I remind her. “So, come on then. Let’s talk.”

“Start me off on something.”

“You had a bad day.”

She laughs dryly. “Yeah, my day’s been shit. Sorry I was such a bitch.”

I laugh too. “You should have seen me. I’ve been a dick. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

“Call it karma then.”

“Oh, yeah. I deserved that.” She smiles so bright, and it’s so fucking beautiful. “Keep talking, Ivy.”

“I’m operating on like four hours of sleep.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“That’s over two days, by the way.”

I make a face. “You got bodies buried out there that you’re worried people will find?”

She laughs. “Can you imagine if I did?”

“Well I’ve seen your bad side, and I can imagine that just fine.”

She grins. “Was I that scary?”

“If I took a second longer getting out of your seat, I think you’d have thrown me off the plane.”

“No chance. You got like a hundred pounds on me.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“True.”

“So why the fuck haven’t you been able to sleep?”

Her expression tightens. “Been counting down the hours to this flight.”

“You hate flying?”

She just shrugs, dodging the question. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

And we do talk. About anything. Impersonal topics made for the specific purpose of hearing each other’s voices. I’m loving the anonymity I have with her. I can finally relax around a beautiful woman and not have to fight against an image that’s been painted of me. It’s refreshing not to have my past rearing its ugly head at me. I like this.

“What do you do for a living?” I ask.

She points to her hair. “Hairdresser.”

“How do you like that?”

She nods. “It’s a trade my mother approved of, and at the time I thought I needed her approval.”

I raise a brow. “But how do you like it?”

“I like making people smile. I’m good at what I do, and a lot of days it’s rewarding. I’m also studying on the side.”

“Yeah? What’re you studying for?”

“Well, I can’t just study what I want just yet. I’ll be taking an entry exam into College this coming semester, which is what I’m studying for. Not sure what class I want to take. I’d explore Creative Writing just for shits and giggles, but I’m also leaning toward Human Resources. I mean, that’s a long road ahead and I’d need to take some bridging courses too, and I’d be pretty late compared to other students but… given everything I’ve been through, it had to happen now, so…Yeah, I cut hair and want to study something worthwhile by next year. That’s been my life lately. I’m sorry for rambling.”

Her cheeks are red when she finishes; she looks away from me for a moment to collect herself. I have a feeling she’s not used to talking about this.

Yes, I tell myself, she is nothing at all like the women I’m used to. I never realized until now how tired I am of the spoiled bitches who live out of their daddy’s pockets. This girl has ambition, she’s a hard worker, and it’s refreshing.

I study her face, at the way her eyes look away in thought, and a weird tingle settles in my hand. I have this urge to run my fingers along the curves of her face and demand for her to tell me what the hell is wrong. There’s this cloud of melancholy about her that makes my stomach twist and my mind feel unsettled. But I don’t dare venture into the feelings department. It’s not my business. Fun. That’s all I remind myself she is. I’m not ready for anything else. I’m not sure I ever will be, either.

“Human Resources entails dealing with people, and I’m not sure that’s your calling with a mouth like yours,” I then remark.

That melancholy disappears when I make her laugh. I love it. She smiles so wide, her cheeks go even redder. “I know,” she agrees on a whisper, “I’m fucking terrible. I’m going to need to cut that shit out when I’m reaching the fucking end, right?”

I shake my head slowly, skeptical. “You’re so far fucked, Ivy, you have no idea. I’m not sure there’s any saving you.”

Noticing that she’s idly still tearing apart her nails again, I move