Resenting Me
Page 4
Chapter Two
I wake, tangled up in Pyro’s limbs and sheets, I slowly and quietly unravel myself, trying my best not to disturb him. I walk into the bathroom and find a washcloth on the shelf above the toilet. Wetting it with warm water and a little soap, I use it to ease the soreness between my legs. Afterwards, I throw on a t-shirt of his and make my way out towards the common room in search of coffee.
I’m not halfway through the room when shards of glass rip across the room from stray bullets flying through the entire clubhouse. Everything happens so fast that I don’t even realize I’m on the floor, bleeding out all over the place. This cannot be happening. I did not just get shot and fall on a nasty ass floor covered in god knows what kind of bodily fluids.
“Lana.” Pyro’s voice roars out over the blaze of gunfire and shattering glass.
The pain in my shoulder is excruciating and nothing I’ve ever felt compares to it.
Bullets are still flying around when a body lands on top of me. I can’t figure out who it is, but I’m thankful, because I do know one thing. I don’t want another bullet in me. One is entirely way too many.
The sounds of destruction around me begin to quiet down until all I hear is screaming and people barking orders. As shock creeps in, muscled arms lift me from the floor and after the bar is swept clean of whatever shit was on there, I’m gently laid on top. Then the creepy bastard PP cuts my shirt off, leaving me naked as a jaybird.
“Hazel,” Pyro whispers as he leans down to cover me.
If I weren’t in so much pain, I would ask why he called me Hazel, but that’ll have to wait. I have a f**king bullet in my shoulder.
“Lana!”
I know that screech. It’s Winter, and her voice tells me she’s pissed.
I choke out her name. Well, I think it’s more like a cry, because now it feels like fire is racing through my body. Getting shot is definitely not a picnic I ever want to attend again.
She’s so hysterical that I yell for someone to get her some f**king gummy bears. Instead of smoking cigarettes, eating the chewy fruit candy is her thing. That is one of her little nervous tics. Mine tears the skin off my lip whilst hers goes straight to her ass, not that it’s noticeable. Damn lucky bitch.
As he hands her a rag to press down on my wound, Pyro orders a prospect to go and get them for her. Fuck, does it hurt. But I think Pyro calling me Hazel hurts worse, but I’m not sure just yet why.
The rest of it seems to go by fast. A doctor, or at least I hope he’s a doctor, shoots me up with some good pain meds and the rest is history. No more pain or light.
My eyes flutter open and I find myself back in Pyro’s bed, naked again. I look over to see he is lost in thought. I can’t help but silently watch him for a moment. When he lights up a cigarette, I decide it’s time to let him know I’m awake.
“Where’s Winter?” I ask, and Pyro’s head flips around so fast.
“You scared the f**k outta me, ya know?” A look of worry creases across his brows.
I try to sit up, but fail at the attempt.
“What the hell, Lana! Stay still. You were f**kin’ shot, for f**ks sake. God, woman, you infuriate me,” he growls.
“I infuriate you? I was shot because I was stupid enough to want a piece of you. If I hadn’t begged Winter to take this damn gig, I wouldn’t be in this bed with a damn bullet hole in my shoulder. So excuse the f**k outta me!”
He’s quiet, observing my mood, I assume.
“Ya know? I watched you for weeks. I’ve wanted to get you here for so long, but I didn’t want you dancing for Braxxon. Call me a selfish bastard, I don’t care. But you were my flower first.”
Uh.
Maybe it’s the drugs. Yeah, that’s gotta be it. I’m sure I didn’t hear him correctly. But before I can ask, he starts talking again.
“You think I visit strip clubs for the hell of it? I could have any woman I want. Why the hell would I need to frequent a damn strip joint? I went there to grab someone for my Prez’s birthday, and then I saw you. Fuck did I see you. You know, you remind me of a flower, so pure, so beautiful, and you’re Hawaiian, right? So you remind me of the sun, too.”
Oh shit, I think he’s babbling.
“Pyro…” I try to interrupt him but he cuts me off.
“And then I hurt you last night. And then you get f**king shot. I’m such a selfish f**king ass**le.”
That’s it!
“Pyro! Shut the f**k up and kiss me already!”
And there goes that worried look again.
“Do it!” I yell.
“No,” he grumbles as he gets off the bed and walks right out of the room.
What. The. Hell just happened?
Screw this. I sit up and grab the glass of water and pills that I assume are for me. After taking more of them than I probably should, I head towards the bar.
After I take a seat, I start chatting up one of the prospects and he feeds me drink after drink. I’m stoned on pain killers and drunk off alcohol and my hate towards Pyro.
Winter sits next to me and I whisper to the prospect I’m talking to for him to relay a message to Pyro. That message is ‘go f**k yourself’. Really, I just want to f**k him again, and I’m pissed at myself for it. True story.
“Hey slut, you scared me this morning,” Winter says.
She asks me how I’m feeling and I want to get snappy with her when I answer, “Like I’ve been shot,” but I don’t. It’s not her fault. “But I’m so high, I could probably fly like a kite.”
I wake, tangled up in Pyro’s limbs and sheets, I slowly and quietly unravel myself, trying my best not to disturb him. I walk into the bathroom and find a washcloth on the shelf above the toilet. Wetting it with warm water and a little soap, I use it to ease the soreness between my legs. Afterwards, I throw on a t-shirt of his and make my way out towards the common room in search of coffee.
I’m not halfway through the room when shards of glass rip across the room from stray bullets flying through the entire clubhouse. Everything happens so fast that I don’t even realize I’m on the floor, bleeding out all over the place. This cannot be happening. I did not just get shot and fall on a nasty ass floor covered in god knows what kind of bodily fluids.
“Lana.” Pyro’s voice roars out over the blaze of gunfire and shattering glass.
The pain in my shoulder is excruciating and nothing I’ve ever felt compares to it.
Bullets are still flying around when a body lands on top of me. I can’t figure out who it is, but I’m thankful, because I do know one thing. I don’t want another bullet in me. One is entirely way too many.
The sounds of destruction around me begin to quiet down until all I hear is screaming and people barking orders. As shock creeps in, muscled arms lift me from the floor and after the bar is swept clean of whatever shit was on there, I’m gently laid on top. Then the creepy bastard PP cuts my shirt off, leaving me naked as a jaybird.
“Hazel,” Pyro whispers as he leans down to cover me.
If I weren’t in so much pain, I would ask why he called me Hazel, but that’ll have to wait. I have a f**king bullet in my shoulder.
“Lana!”
I know that screech. It’s Winter, and her voice tells me she’s pissed.
I choke out her name. Well, I think it’s more like a cry, because now it feels like fire is racing through my body. Getting shot is definitely not a picnic I ever want to attend again.
She’s so hysterical that I yell for someone to get her some f**king gummy bears. Instead of smoking cigarettes, eating the chewy fruit candy is her thing. That is one of her little nervous tics. Mine tears the skin off my lip whilst hers goes straight to her ass, not that it’s noticeable. Damn lucky bitch.
As he hands her a rag to press down on my wound, Pyro orders a prospect to go and get them for her. Fuck, does it hurt. But I think Pyro calling me Hazel hurts worse, but I’m not sure just yet why.
The rest of it seems to go by fast. A doctor, or at least I hope he’s a doctor, shoots me up with some good pain meds and the rest is history. No more pain or light.
My eyes flutter open and I find myself back in Pyro’s bed, naked again. I look over to see he is lost in thought. I can’t help but silently watch him for a moment. When he lights up a cigarette, I decide it’s time to let him know I’m awake.
“Where’s Winter?” I ask, and Pyro’s head flips around so fast.
“You scared the f**k outta me, ya know?” A look of worry creases across his brows.
I try to sit up, but fail at the attempt.
“What the hell, Lana! Stay still. You were f**kin’ shot, for f**ks sake. God, woman, you infuriate me,” he growls.
“I infuriate you? I was shot because I was stupid enough to want a piece of you. If I hadn’t begged Winter to take this damn gig, I wouldn’t be in this bed with a damn bullet hole in my shoulder. So excuse the f**k outta me!”
He’s quiet, observing my mood, I assume.
“Ya know? I watched you for weeks. I’ve wanted to get you here for so long, but I didn’t want you dancing for Braxxon. Call me a selfish bastard, I don’t care. But you were my flower first.”
Uh.
Maybe it’s the drugs. Yeah, that’s gotta be it. I’m sure I didn’t hear him correctly. But before I can ask, he starts talking again.
“You think I visit strip clubs for the hell of it? I could have any woman I want. Why the hell would I need to frequent a damn strip joint? I went there to grab someone for my Prez’s birthday, and then I saw you. Fuck did I see you. You know, you remind me of a flower, so pure, so beautiful, and you’re Hawaiian, right? So you remind me of the sun, too.”
Oh shit, I think he’s babbling.
“Pyro…” I try to interrupt him but he cuts me off.
“And then I hurt you last night. And then you get f**king shot. I’m such a selfish f**king ass**le.”
That’s it!
“Pyro! Shut the f**k up and kiss me already!”
And there goes that worried look again.
“Do it!” I yell.
“No,” he grumbles as he gets off the bed and walks right out of the room.
What. The. Hell just happened?
Screw this. I sit up and grab the glass of water and pills that I assume are for me. After taking more of them than I probably should, I head towards the bar.
After I take a seat, I start chatting up one of the prospects and he feeds me drink after drink. I’m stoned on pain killers and drunk off alcohol and my hate towards Pyro.
Winter sits next to me and I whisper to the prospect I’m talking to for him to relay a message to Pyro. That message is ‘go f**k yourself’. Really, I just want to f**k him again, and I’m pissed at myself for it. True story.
“Hey slut, you scared me this morning,” Winter says.
She asks me how I’m feeling and I want to get snappy with her when I answer, “Like I’ve been shot,” but I don’t. It’s not her fault. “But I’m so high, I could probably fly like a kite.”
