Page 37 of Sling’s Awakening

Once his brother’s bike fires up, Sling stands and crosses the distance between us.

So it wasn’t a girl after all.

“Fancy finding you out here, babe.” Sling grins, and he exhales a puff of smoke. “I must say, I didn’t think you were the type.”

“The type for what?” I ask, stupidly taking the bait.

“Smoking a cigarette and drinking a tall boy like it’s 2008.”

I glare at him, even though I doubt he can see it. “I’ve had a bad day, asshole, so how about you shut the fuck up and mind your own business for once in your life?”

I don’t have the energy to deal with him tonight.

I lean my head back again, determined to block Sling out and act like that didn’t just happen.

Except the weed smell is growing stronger.

I know it’s not in my head when I hear his boots on my patio heading toward me. The cushion on the sofa dips slightly as Sling takes a seat next to me.

“What do you want?” I ask, not looking at him. My voice sounds dead to my ears, but I can’t muster up enough energy to care.

Instead, I focus my attention on the stars as I try to pretend he isn’t sitting right beside me. Childish, but if one more person tests me today, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

“Rough night?” Sling asks, his voice softening as it loses its teasing edge it had moments ago.

“Something like that.”

He’s silent for a moment before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I almost laugh out loud.

Do I want to talk about it?

What I want to do is go back to the club and knock Russ the fuck out.

“Something tells me you aren’t exactly the type to talk about feelings,” I answer dryly.

Sling snickers next to me. “I’ll make the sacrifice for you, babe. Just don’t let it get out. It’ll ruin my street cred.”

I half-smile at the sky as I snort. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone know the big, bad biker president asked to talk about my feelings.”

Sling moves next to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulder as he pulls me flush against his side.

I stiffen, my body unsure of how to react to the physical contact.

He applies pressure to my arm in an attempt to get me to lean into his relaxed form, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I feel awkward against him, and no matter how hard I try to pull away, it doesn’t work.

“Don’t resist,” Sling orders.

I turn my head and look at him as if he’s crazy. “Don’t resist? I don’t know what’s happening!”

Sling looks amused. “It’s called comfort. You looked like you could use some and I was right. Your body is wound tighter than a nun’s cunt.”

For the first time all day, I laugh. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything, babe. I’m just stating the obvious.”

Sling’s joke seemed to have broken some of the awkwardness between us as we settle into a silence that’s not uncomfortable, but it’s also not completely comfortable either. I feel like I’m just far enough away from the edge that I can settle in without worrying about being pushed over.