Fight Or Flight (Tempted Series Generation 2.0)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  The boardwalk was a lot of fun and now, thanks to Eric, we’re the proud parents of two goldfish, Splish and Splash. I didn’t have a very good track record with carnival fish. My mom had taken me to the state carnival every year as a kid, and every year I wound up winning a fish. And every year we wound up flushing that fish the next day.

  “We’re going to need a tank and some fish food,” Eric says, lifting the clear plastic bag. “Daddy can’t tell if your Splish or Splash.” He frowns and turns to me. “We should’ve labeled the bags.”

  He actually looks concerned that he doesn’t know which one is which. I lift the bag I’m holding to his and try to decide which is bigger.

  “This one is Splash,” I say, pointing to one of the goldfish. “It’s the bigger one.”

  He studies both fish for a moment before grinning back at me.

  “You’re right,” he says, giving my nose a peck. “Such a good little fish mommy. When we get home, we’ll go to the pet store and grab a nice bowl, gravel, and maybe even get our little guys one of those little houses to hide in but for now, we should get one of those little plastic ones with a handle. There’s a place right there that sells them.”

  Tagging my hand, he starts for the shop, but his feet come to a skidding halt just outside the front doors.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, following his gaze to the shop next door. A mischievous grin works his lips as he turns back to me.

  “Feel like living dangerously, my pretty little hurricane?”

  I probably should’ve been a little cautious, maybe even ask what he had in mind before letting him lead me into the tattoo shop, but the truth is, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do with Eric—danger be damned. So when he suggested matching tattoos? I took the first session.

  A little while later we strolled into the shop next door, holding hands and sporting new ink on our wrists.

  On Eric’s right wrist the word hers stood boldly in my handwriting.

  And on my left wrist, in his handwriting, was the word his.

  Near or far,

  Together forever.

  Twenty-Six

  Eric

  Four months dwindled down two weeks and weeks soon turned to days and still, it didn’t hit me that I was leaving—until an hour ago when I brought my bags upstairs and laid them by the front door. There was something so final about seeing them there.

  It’s crazy when you think about it—how something so simple can set things into perspective. I spent most of the week saying goodbye to everyone, and it was the sight of those bags that made my chest ache. In a couple of hours, my parents would drop me off at the airport.

  There’s no turning back now—not that I’m having second thoughts or anything. I’m fully committed to the United States Army and even more excited to start my future, one I can share with Brooklyn and of course our fish, Splish and Splash.

  It just sucks that I’m leaving them.

  It’s always been in the back of my head, but I’ve been so focused on building a solid relationship with her and enjoying every fucking moment we have together, that I didn’t let myself acknowledge how leaving was actually going to feel.

  It’s those fucking bags—they’re screwing with me.

  “Did you set the alarm?” Brooklyn asks as she crawls into my bed. My eyes rake over her, taking in the cotton sleep shorts and the thin camisole that does a piss-poor job of covering her tits.

  After she surprised me for my birthday, the parental units eased up on the no-sleepover policy and she’s been spending every night cuddled next to me. Knowing this is the last time in God knows how long that I’ll lay in bed with her makes me want to throw up. I lift my head and our eyes lock.

  How the fuck am I going to do this? How am I going to leave her? All my reasons for joining the Army suddenly seem irrelevant.

  “Yeah,” I rasp, forcing a swallow. My throat tightens and I hold out my hand. “C’mere.”

  She throws one leg over me, straddling my lap as I sit up and comb my fingers through her hair.

  “I know we said we were going to stay positive and all that, but I…” My voice trails as I lean my forehead against hers. “Tell me I’m making a mistake, Brooklyn. Tell me not to go, that you need me to stay. Say the word and I swear to God, I won’t go.”

  I mean it. I’ll tear up the contract I signed with the Army and suffer the consequences. My grandma set me up with one of those 529 college funds that matured on my eighteenth birthday. I cashed it in because I wasn’t going to school and opened a bank account. I was planning on using that money to buy Brooklyn a ring after my Turning Blue ceremony, but I’ll take it and get us a studio apartment instead. We don’t need more than that yet, it’s just the two of us. Oh, and Splish and Splash—but fish food is cheap enough and I’ll get a job. I’ll get two jobs if I have to.

  All she has to do is say stay, but she isn’t saying anything. Not a single word.

  Why isn’t she saying anything?

  “Brook?” I ask, searching her eyes—for what, I don’t know.

  A sign.

  A plea.

  Something.

  Anything.

  I find nothing. Her eyes are void of emotion, her face expressionless as she raises her hands to my cheeks. Lips that were created solely for my pleasure, press against mine. It’s slow and desperate all the same. My lips part and her tongue slides into my mouth. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I take charge and deepen the kiss, lapping at her mouth, flicking my tongue over hers.

  If kissing her was a drug, I’d die chasing the high.

  She moans or maybe she whimpers, I can’t be sure—whatever it is, I eat it up. I pull one hand free from her hair and reach for the neckline of her camisole. Tugging the cotton down over her tits, my hand closes around one boob. Her nipple goes hard against my palm and I quickly tear my mouth away from hers, bending to suck the tiny bud between my teeth.

  I nip at it, lick it, and suck harder. She goes crazy in my lap, gripping my shoulders and grinding her sweet pussy over my erection. My mouth moves to take her other nipple into my mouth, and I reach between us, sliding my hand inside her shorts.

  No underwear.

  Thank you, Jesus.

  Cupping her pussy, my thumb finds her clit as the rest of my fingers circle the wetness dripping from the lips between her legs.

  Tell me to stay.

  Please tell me to stay.

  She inches back, tearing her tank top over her head before bending her head and taking my mouth. With her tits pressed against me, I slide two fingers inside her. Her sweet little pussy clenches around them as I pull them out and push them back in.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  Tell me to stay.

  I flip her over, pulling away the skimpy shorts that are fucking covered in her arousal and toss them behind me. My shorts are next to go. Spreading her legs wide, I slide between them. My eyes lock with hers as I bring my fingers to my lips and suck them into my mouth.

  Tell me to stay.

  She extends her hands, silently asking me to fall into them, and my eye catches sight of the tattoo on her wrist.

  Mine.

  I take her hand, turn her wrist over, and press my lips to the ink, my eyes pinned to hers.

  Tell me to stay.

  Swallowing, I pin her wrist to the pillow and grab her leg, lifting it to my waist as I position my cock at her entrance.

  Mine.

  “Eric,” she whispers. I shake my head. If she isn’t going to say the words I want to hear, then I don’t want her to say anything.

  “Tell me to stay,” I beg.

  I fucking plead.

  She raises her head from the pillow and takes my mouth just as I push inside her. I close my eyes, fully aware there is nothing separating us.

  Not a piece of latex.

  Not a fucking thing.

  It’s amazing, so fucking amazing. And as my eyes roll to the back of my head, it’s confirmed…every part of her was crea
ted for every part of me.

  Tell me to fucking stay.

  Her hips arch off the mattress and she meets me thrust for thrust. The sound of our skin slapping together mixes with the sound of our ragged breaths and fills my ears. I release her wrist and take hold of both her legs, hooking my arms under her knees as I pump faster.

  Sweat clings to my body.

  To hers, too.

  Her eyes find mine and for the first time since the plea left my lips, her eyes glass over. It’s not enough, though. I need to hear the words.

  I need them more than I need my next breath.

  The back of the pull-out hits the wall.

  She arches and I feel her tighten around me.

  My pretty little hurricane is expressionless no more.

  Every perfect feature fills with pleasure as she bites her lip and starts to spasm around me.

  Tell me to stay.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  I fuck her like my life depends on it, and maybe it does. My balls tighten and thank fuck my reflexes have more sense than my heart because I pull out just in the nick of time. My hands fall out from under her legs and I grip my shaft. With my eyes pinned to hers, I jerk my cock.

  Tell me to stay.

  “One day,” I pant.

  One fucking day I’m going to come inside of her.

  Until then…

  I groan as my fucking cock explodes, decorating Brooklyn’s stomach with my release. I mean, I think my cock explodes. The fucking thing shoots like a missile. How else would you describe it? A rocket! My dick goes off like a rocket.

  What? Don’t judge me.

  I just fucked my girlfriend for the last time.

  I begged her to tell me to stay, and she completely ignored me.

  I’m allowed to compare my load to firearms. Apparently, they’re all I got.

  That’s a heavy pill to swallow, and it causes me to roll off Brooklyn. I should get up and grab her a towel. Clean her up and hold her tight. Forget I ever asked her to tell me to stay. Close my eyes and wait for the alarm to go off.

  “Eric,” she whispers.

  I stare up at the ceiling for a second.

  “I’ll get you a towel,” I say quickly, throwing my legs over the side of the pull-out.

  “Eric,” she repeats, but I don’t acknowledge her. I don’t know if it’s pride or my bruised ego. I suppose they go hand in hand. Anyway, I make my way into the bathroom and grab a towel for her. On the way back to the bed, I spot the box from Build-A-Bear.

  Yesterday, I took Bella to the mall to spend some time with her and she dragged me into Build-A-Bear. It was my first time in the joint and I found it a little creepy. All those poor stuffed animals with their guts ripped out—not cool. But if it made my sister happy, I was all for it. Coincidentally she picked out a snake and guess what she named it—yep, Eric. So, while we were stuffing Eric the snake, Bella had this idea that I should make Brooklyn a bear too. I thought Brooklyn would prefer the snake, but Bella insisted on a plain teddy bear, one that I stuffed with a personal voice recorded message and dressed in camouflage. The thing even had combat boots and dog tags.

  Tearing my gaze away from the box, I head for the pull-out. Climbing in beside Brooklyn, I avoid her eyes as I wipe her belly clean.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I was careless.”

  “No, you weren’t,” she replies, laying her hand over mine. “Will you look at me?”

  Sighing, I force my eyes back to hers.

  “I can’t tell you to stay, Eric, no matter how badly I want to because that would be selfish of me and after everything you’ve given me—everything you’ve done for me—selfish is not something you deserve.” She pauses to sit up and take my face in her hands. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to talk you out of enlisting? How many times I’ve wanted you to choose me instead of your dreams?” She shakes her head and forces a swallow. “So many times, but each time, I recalled the look in your eyes when you first told me your five-year plan. I remembered the tone of your voice when you told me about the flag, and I knew the best thing I could do for you is give you my love and support. I love you so much, Eric, and I’m so proud of you. I can’t ask you to stay because I never want to be a regret to you. So, tomorrow, you get on that plane and you remember there is a girl who loves you more than she loves herself and she can’t wait for you to graduate because then our life together can truly begin.”

  Tears slide down her cheeks as she touches her forehead to mine.

  “I’m going to miss you, Soldier Boy, but when you come back to me, I’m never going to let you go.”

  I’ve said a lot of goodbyes over the last few days and I haven’t shed a single tear, but right here, right now, I wrap my arms around the girl I didn’t see coming, and I cry into her neck.

  I cry because I’m scared.

  I cry because I’m going to miss her.

  I cry because fuck, man, I’m joining the Army—the fucking Army!

  Whose bright idea was this, anyway?

  The ride to the airport mimicked a funeral precession. Sure, there were no outrageous floral displays and of course, there was no coffin. There was mom’s Range Rover and a fleet of motorcycles leading the way to Newark, and inside the Range, the immediate family fought back tears.

  The final straw was hearing my dad sniffle. I knew I had to do something before everyone—myself included—started crying like a bunch of saps.

  I grabbed my phone, hooked it up to the sound system, and reached into the front seat to turn up the volume. Flo Rida’s “My House” poured from the speakers and soon my dad was driving with one hand, fist-pumping with the other. Mom even got into it and swayed to the beat in the passenger seat. Robert and Anthony hit the notes and Bella started squawking like our bird—not really sure why, but I loved it. I loved every fucking second and as I draped my arm around Brooklyn’s shoulders, I started singing too.

  By the time the song ended, we were at the terminal and I played it again as my dad searched for a spot. Once he put the Range in park, everyone filed out of the truck and me and dad made our way to the back to grab my bags. I hitched one over my shoulder and dad took the other.

  As we made our way to the airport, I tightened my hold on Brooklyn’s hand. My mom rattled off a list of things, making sure I didn’t forget any of the documents I needed.

  Birth Certificate, check!

  Social Security Card, check!

  Debit Card, check!

  Driver’s License, check!

  Plane ticket—shit!

  Nothing like a little Montgomery chaos to make time fly past. By the time I realized I could pull up my ticket on the app and the crisis was averted, it was time for me to check-in. I checked one bag and hiked the other one over my shoulder as I printed my boarding pass.

  Look at your boy, Eric, doing adultish shit.

  Pretty fucking cool, huh?

  It was until it was time to say goodbye.

  Bella was first, and I lifted her up in my arms, spinning her around until she threatened to hurl all over my head. Next was Anthony, who I hugged tight and slipped a crisp hundred-dollar bill into his pocket. His rate had gone up.

  “Keep an eye out on my girl, yeah?”

  “You got it, bro. Stay safe.”

  It was his first time telling me to stay safe—I guess it finally hit him. After I ruffled his hair some, I turned to Robert. I braved a smile and took him into my arms. I tried to crack a joke, but I didn’t have it in me.

  “I love you,” I rasped.

  “I love you too,” he choked. “Remember, you’re already someone’s hero.”

  Fucking kid—always trying to make me look like a pussy. It’s alright—real men aren’t afraid to show their emotions. Real men wear their hearts on their sleeves.

  Once I pulled away from Rob, my mom rushed for me and threw her arms around my middle.

  “Please be careful,” she cried. Worried she might actually suffocate me, I p
ried her arms from my waist and bent my knees to bring us to eye level. I pulled her glasses from her pretty face, stared into her blue eyes, and gave her my word. Then I thanked her for loving me and vowed to make her proud.

  The line in front of me was thinning and there were only two people left for me to say goodbye to. The first was the man who taught me everything I know, and the second was the love of my life.

  I looked at my dad, saw the emotion reflected in his eyes, and instead of giving him my words, I brought him into my arms, and gave him my strength. It was only fair considering he’s been lifting me up for the last eighteen years.

  “Eye of the Tiger, son,” he rasped.

  “Always.”

  Then it was time for the hardest goodbye of all. It was time to walk away from my pretty little hurricane. Fourteen weeks would be hell without her, but we’d make it. This thing we built was unbreakable.

  I removed my bag from my back and opened it up, taking the teddy bear out. As soon as I handed it to her, she started to cry. I didn’t want my last memory of her to be a sad one, but I also knew there wasn’t much I could do to stop her from crying.

  “If you squeeze the paw, there’s a voice recording, but don’t do it until you’re home and alone.” I inched back and winked at her. “I almost got arrested recording it.”

  That’s a little lie, it’s actually a very clean and wholesome message.

  “I love you, Soldier Boy, and I’ll be waiting for you.”

  I covered her mouth with mine, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her until they called for me to board the plane. When I set her back on her feet, I felt tears sting my eyes again.

  Near or far, together forever.

  Now, I’m standing in line with my bags hitched over my shoulder, her pretty face playing on a loop in my head.

  “Name?”

  I blink and stare at the sergeant in front of me.

  It’s do or die.

  Fight or flight.

  Swallowing, I raise my hand and salute him.

  “Eric Montgomery, reporting for duty, sir.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Brooklyn