His Sour Lemon #3.1

Part 27: The Wrong Twin

CHAPTER 27: The Wrong Twin

December 10th, 2032.
2: 38 am, Outskirts of New York City, America.
Fitzgerald Institute for Troubled Youth.

I wondered if he'd visit. My biological father that is, I didn't believe he would. Perhaps I never wanted him too. But stepping in to fight and seeing him in the crowd, I froze, when he dissolved that one time I believed I envisioned him in the crowd watching me fight for my life, I almost lost. Even after Christian's grilling training and Sampson's continuous speeches of how to win, how to make the fight drag on for more money, for more bets and more privileges...I almost lost it all to the image of him.

I wanted to end him.

And now, I believe I can.

*******

June 7th, 2042.
4:29 pm, London, United Kingdom.
Advanced Business Engagements Academy (Private Business
Institution), Sylvan Lakeshore.

It had been a long three weeks of physical therapy, Lemon looked so doubtful when I signed for my release, "I told you I'd heal quickly." I tell her. She arches as always when I run my nose down the midline of her forehead and back up.

She nods once, "I was thinking within two months, not just a few weeks, after a wound like this, Edmund." I look to her, she needed to know I was fine. Because I was. This was nothing compared to all my other scars. Whipping is far more worse compared to a bullet wound.

"Don't think about it, lemon. Now, you want to tell me if the rumours are true?" I ask her, running my fingers through those luscious curls she tames so well. She sighs, trailing a finger up my bare torso and I hold the urge to growl, her fingers trailing a path where I wanted much more than just one measly finger. I wanted an entire body, hers specifically.

"To what rumour do you speak of?" She questions. I press a kiss to her temple and moving to the weights Talon brought in for me. I sit down, needing a side table to balance myself, one tilt or wrong pull and I'd certainly feel it. I didn't need to go wincing in front of lemon.

"The one where your return to the Academy has been delayed?" I relay. Raising up, clenching, down, relaxing. Working each muscle in a work-out that was barely anything compared to my normal routine, only Lemon watching me like this is my normal routine.

I chuckle, "Don't give me that look, lemon, or you'll never get out that door." I tell her, gesturing behind my girl who tips her head back and laughs, dropping a hand over her chest for effect, but it made me glance there and made the rest of me stiffen while red lights were blaring behind my eyes to look away, to show fucking respect. However when I look away for a second to resume my workout, she's openly looking at my muscles like she'd lick the sweat right off my chest. I wouldn't even say this, let alone think it if I didn't see my Lemon literally bite her bottom lip and look like I'm her next meal for the day. Down girl.

I hear an internal scoff, more like down boy. Have you looked down yet, ya lollipop? You're showing her the goodies.

Son of a bitch.

You kiss her with that mouth. Show some respect, boy.

Seriously, just fuck off.