Ghost was beginning to grow on me, in a way I hated to admit. He was very friendly; I could tell there was nothing ingenuine about the way he interacted with me. He always spoke to my points, stopped by my desk to say hello, and every morning when I ran, I heard a truck pull up, and the engine turn off.
He was watching to make sure I was okay, I think. Since I turned down his offer to run with me, this was his way of making sure his team's intelligence specialist was alright.
The first week with the team went okay. König asked no more questions. So, on Friday afternoon, I show up to Price's house, a casserole dish full of cookies, brownies, and lemon bars in hand.
He opens the door. "Hey, come on in," he says.
I follow him inside hesitantly. I didn't plan to stay long.
Farah and Soap are here. "What've you got?" Soap asks.
"Dessert," I say.
Soap bounces up from the couch, unwrapping the foil from the dish. "You're a baker?"
"I try," I say, but the truth is, I know they're good. I've perfected that recipe over the years.
Soap helps himself to a brownie, shoving it in his mouth before taking the dish over to the couch. Price places a hand to my lower back, encouraging me to join the group.
I oblige, following Soap into the living room, where they're watching TV.
Farah smiles at me. "Hey, how are you?"
"I'm okay. A bit tired from the week, I can only imagine how you guys feel."
"Oh, we don't get tired," Price says, but his eyes say otherwise. I have a feeling once we leave, he'll be in bed.
"Of course," I say.
Ghost comes in a few minutes later, drinks in hand.
A few hours later, the entire group is drunk. I haven't had anything to drink, myself, though - one bad experience a few years ago swore me off of it for life.
Soap plays some music, and Ghost extends a hand to Farah. They begin to dance. I laugh with Price as Ghost's moves get sloppy and he almost drops her. He reaches for me, but I shake my head.
"You'll drop me, too," I say, still shaking my head in protest as he picks me up from the couch, spinning me in the air.
"No, I won't," he says, and I find myself feeling just a little bit lighter in a room full of people that I didn't know a week ago.
I finally get back that evening, having left a sleeping Farah and Ghost on the floor of Price's living room, and taking Soap back to his house.
I smile to myself as I walk up my steps, and see a small package on my doormat.
It's wrapped in brown paper, with my name written in small block writing.
Almost immediately, like intution, I know who it's from.
I bring it inside, worried he's lurking in the shadows, and open it at my counter.
It's a pair of compression socks for running, along with a printed-out article of the benefits.
Godammit.
YOU ARE READING
Quiet Hate
RomanceKönig, insertion specialist, is good at his job. Special warfare isn't an easy task, but König makes it seem that way. He doesn't have many friends, doesn't socialize, and he never shows his face. Certainly not to some random new girl that shows up...
