A Pirate's Crush

13. Sisterly Advice

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I murmured. "It was nothing. He was just being nice."

...

...

"...but what if it meant something? Or... maybe... ugh..."

The light evening breeze of my hideaway graced my shoulders as I gripped my pencil in frustration. I thought I'd be able to sketch a little and relax. Instead, my doubts decided to speak up, as they always do when I'm alone.

What was his reaction? Was he just humoring me? Did he like it at all? He didn't seem bothered when I woke up, but he could've just been putting on a smile for me.

...he brushed my hair, though. So gently, too.

I sighed.

I'd give anything to know what his face looked like. The closest I've ever gotten to him, and it's still a bunch of what-ifs and maybes.

Still... he let me do it. He didn't fight. I felt him tense up for only a second, and then he seemed fine.

And I'd do it again too. I won't deny that I loved every second of it. It's like... his warmth was the only blanket I needed.

Heh... did I really just think that? Such sappy thoughts... but they're true. Does he even know how much he's playing with my heart?

I wonder how many other secretaries have done similar things. Surely Akagi's done it several times. She probably went a step further and let him use her tits as a pillow.

And Dunkerque's so bold she gives him hugs without a second thought. Taking a nap on the commander's shoulder would be a cakewalk for her. I don't think Algerie or Richelieu would hesitate either.

How do they just hug him on a whim? I don't understand.

...I'd let him hug me. The warmth from just sleeping on his shoulder was intoxicating. I can only imagine how good it would feel in his arms.

Ugh... shiver me timbers... more of these syrupy thoughts. I don't wanna say I'm growing soft, but every sugary thought makes me wonder. I have moxie on the battlefield, but in front of him? Forget it.

...would he let anyone sleep on his shoulder?

...probably. The scalawag's surrounded by girls way prettier than me every day, all vying for his attention. I ain't special.

Ugh... let's not think about that. Let's keep sketching.

Pursing my lips, I carefully guided my pencil across the paper. Line by line, shape by shape, the image in my mind was manifesting before me. At least, with as much precision as my dexterity would allow.

I was gonna finish up my "branch in the rain" painting, but recent events inspired me to change course.

I groaned. Every stroke of my pencil stung. Maybe I've felt a modicum of this sensation from my other paintings, but with this one it's far more potent. Almost venomously so, sometimes immobilizing my hand for several seconds.

Perhaps it's because, for the first time, this is an idea I came up with. The only reference pic is in my mind, and every time I think of it... I relive my moment of weakness at the fountain.

Hmph... the emotions keep rushing back. Does he like me back? Can I only be close to him in my dreams? Does my worth go beyond being a weapon? Why do I feel like all this is bringing out the worst in me?

Although, one silver lining, it does make it easier to draw. I started only a couple hours ago, but I've made swift progress compared to previous works. The image in my mind, though painful to think about, was so vivid that it almost drew itself.