And that’s fine. We can be friends.
That’s not what I would prefer for us to be, but she’s wiser than I am. She doesn’t even know who my father is and the hell he would make her life, our life, and that’s why we can’t be together.
Unless we hide from him. She’s already a nomad. That life is fine by me. We would have to avoid the government and military here because my father might well try to find us.
And he will find us unless I remove my chip.
A drastic measure. A very drastic measure and one that would mean I would not only cut out my father from my life but also my mom and Sarah.
I’m not willing to do that. I care for Isabella already, but I can’t say I love her, and not yet at least, but even if I did… That might be asking too much of me.
Father can try to pretend that I ignore responsibility all day long, but that’s not nearly the case as much as he would believe.
As we travel, I do keep an eye out to make certain that no one who might be government or military sees me, but we stick to a rural area, and I only see cities from afar. Eventually, we head toward one, just the outskirts, and we enter a scrapyard filled with all kinds of things, including what amounts to a centuricmobile graveyard.
None of them are in working order, so it takes me some time to push and get them to be all lined up. Then, I find myself a makeshift ramp, and I do flips and stunts over them. Isabella feigns boredom, but then I bring out a centuricmobile that I actually fixed up to work—mostly--, and I drive that over the ramp. The ramp breaks, but I’m airborne, and the centuricmobile slams down hard, but I cleared the line of them. I park the vehicle and turn to smirk at Isabella.
“Well?” I demand.
“Not bad,” she admits begrudgingly.
I wink. “Your turn.”
8
Isabella
Strol is one hot guy. There’s no denying that, and as much as I want to give into him, as hard as it is not to, I hold back. It’s for my protection. I’m not used to spending my days and night with one person, and I thought I might get bored of him, that we might start to get on each other’s nerves, but that’s not the case at all. We tease each other, but it never turns mean or spiteful, and we don’t push each other too far.
At night, I dream of him, and we try every position imaginable, and once or twice, I woke up before he did, and I fingered myself to get off. It’s that much hotter to do it knowing that I can’t risk moaning out loud or else he’ll wake. I’m a moaner, a loud one, and to suppress that only makes the sensation that much better, stronger. There might’ve been one time when I let out a moan on purpose, just to see if he might wake up and what it might lead to, but he stayed asleep. That disappointed me, and it had me rethinking the whole arms’ length bit. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself for as long as this lasts? He’s a hunk, and he’s fun and fun-loving. Right now, that’s all I need.
But what will I want or need in five years? Hell, I don't even know where I'll be in one year, let alone five. Life isn't meant to be lived for the future. It's meant for the moment.
I stop thinking as he finally starts his… Whatever it is he’s going to do, and I watch, amazed.
His skills, those flips, the way he can contort his body… He must have been a gymnast in a former life because he jumps so high, flips, lands on one roof doing a handstand, is immediately in the air again, and keeps on flipping, boom, boom, boom. And then when he has that centuricmobile that he drives up the ramp! My heart leaps into my throat as the ramp breaks beneath the vehicle's weight, but he's airborne. As bored as I had been as he pushed the vehicles around and did a bunch of running around to find pieces or whatever, this show has been more than worth the weight.
He nails the land, well, a bit hard, but he parks the vehicle and turns to smirk at me. God, that look on his handsome face! I want to kiss those lips of his to make him stop looking at me that way. Cocky bastard is right.
My cocky bastard.
No. He’s not mine.
Alien daredevil. That's what Strol's trying to prove he is, and he's doing a fairly decent job of it so far.
Yes, I’m in denial, but do I get a point for knowing that I am?
“Well?” he demands.
“Not bad,” I admit begrudgingly.
He winks. “Your turn.”
I glance all around the scrapyard. I’ve been here before to find parts and items. Actually, when I was little, I used to come here to play. The entire place had been my playground, but while I had jumped and leaped from here to there, I never did anything remotely like the stunts Strol just pulled off.
My mind's blank until I spy a broken barrel. I head in that direction and manage to unearth two barrels that are in perfect condition, aside from a few dents.
“You ready for something thrilling?” I ask him.
“You bet I am.”
I eye the centuricmobile he drove. “Think that thing can still drive?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We have a long way to go, and I don’t feel like walking forever to get there. Put yours in the back.”
We bring the barrels over, and we take off, heading north. Occasionally, we
