Losing Control by Laramie Briscoe

matter where he sat, stood, or lay. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, the bruised ribs were not broken or cracked, but it gave him a good excuse to have a temper. That’s exactly what he wanted and he wasn’t sure why. He was in a foul mood and knew he was taking it out on everyone around him. When there was a knock on his door, he groaned.
    “Leave me alone!” he yelled.
    The knob turned, and he fought the rage that rolled in his stomach. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone. I ain’t a nice guy right now.”
    Bianca finished opening the door, a smile pasted on her face. “I brought you lunch and some money. Did you forget about our deal?”
    That deal seemed like so long ago had only been a week ago, but this was the beginning of a new week so she did have a point. “Forget about our deal.”
    His attitude was not only beginning to piss her off, but it was starting to hurt her feelings. Part of her bravado fell as did her smile. Instead of letting the tears come to her eyes, she stomped her foot. “No, I’m not going to. I owe you money, and I’m going to fulfill my part of the obligation.”
    “Then just give me the money, forget about the dinner. You don’t owe me anything besides the $225 left on the repairs to your car.”
    That stung. This time she couldn’t stop the tears that pooled but did not fall. “Did I do something to piss you off or make you mad at me?”
    It was the tone of her voice that got to him. He sighed, letting his asshole façade fade. “No, I’m just not myself right now.”
    “I’m trying to help you be yourself. Trying to get you back into your routine,” she explained.
    “Okay, let’s try this again.” He took a deep breath, grinning slightly. “Thank you for bringing me lunch today.”
    “You are very welcome. I do have to admit though,” she reached down to run her fingers along his cheek, “I don’t like that bruise on your face. It’s too pretty to be bruised.”
    “It’s the only thing besides my tattoos that make me look tough. Give me at least that.”
    She set the food down in front of her. “Hate to break it ya, pretty boy, but even your tattoos don’t make you look tough. That’s not saying that you don’t have a dangerous edge to you, because you do, but it’s not your looks. It’s your attitude.”
    The honesty they had with each other surprised him sometimes, but he loved it. He watched as she set out some white Styrofoam boxes. “What did you bring me?”
    “Like you, I’ve watched you a lot. I know that you like sushi and Japanese cuisine. So I got you some sushi rolls, and I got me teriyaki steak.”
    “Very impressive. Let’s see if you got the rolls I like.” He opened the box and his mouth watered. “You are a very good study, Ms. Hawks.”
    “Only as good as you are, Mr. Stone,” she returned the compliment.
    “Do you not like sushi?” he asked.
    She watched as he opened his chopsticks and soy sauce and wasabi. His long fingers wrapped around his chopsticks, and he set them down against the hard surface of the TV table she’d scooted over next to him. He grabbed a drop of the wasabi and put it in his soy sauce and stirred it up before expertly grabbing a piece of his roll, dipping it, and shoving it into his mouth.
    “Not a huge fan,” she finally answered, swallowing hard. These moments between them were beginning to build. They truly were having a relationship no matter what she wanted to call it.
    “You’re so missing out, but to each their own, I guess.”
    “Exactly. Different strokes for different folks,” she added.
    A twinkle appeared in his eye, and he licked his lips of the soy sauce that lingered there. “I’d like to know how you stroke,” he whispered.
    Her cheeks bloomed a bright red with embarrassment. His flirting was so different from the blatant flirting she was used to. He flirted by turning her own words around on her. It was much more effective than just grabbing her ass, but it also left her