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"Goodnight Mils"

I was certain that if I ever heard that name again, it would be in the afterlife.

Mils...my dad used to call me that. I always feared it would hurt, hearing it from someone else. But there it was. This frizzy-haired, metal loving boy that knew nothing of the name and what it meant to me. Casually letting it slip from his tongue nearly sending me to my knees.

It stung, but in a pleasant way. A way that evoked a lifetime of memories I've tried so hard to suppress. Like a subtle reminder from the universe that it's okay, important even, to feel...to remember.

Something about the way it sounded coming from his lips felt soothing. Like a balm to the aching wound in my chest.

I sit at the kitchen table running my fingers along the edges of the napkin from Louie's we'd used as a contract just the night before. A mixture of cursive, chicken scratch, and pizza grease binding two strangers into a false indenture.

TERMS:
Weekly date night. Switch who picks.
Ride to school together when possible.
Sit together at lunch.
One campaign / one hideout.
Causal PDA, nothing gross?
Don't tell anyone...except the cheerleader.

This is such a bad idea.

I finally broke down and admitted it to myself. I have a crush on Eddie Munson, and after last night...it's glaringly obvious that those feelings aren't going anywhere. Worse...now I have to fake date him. Talk to him, spend time with him, go on dates with him.

This is such a bad idea.

All at once dark, depressive thoughts that have become terrifyingly familiar begin to bleed into my mind, taunting me with the inevitable truth. I'm going to lose him too, and when all this is over I'll still be painfully on my own. My vision begins to blur and my chest begins to tighten. The air in my lungs becomes so shallow I'm gasping for my next breath...then I hear it.

The low rumble and echoing sounds of metal music plowing through the neighborhood like a bat out of hell. Eddie.

My reaction to the noise is strange, but not entirely surprising. I instantly feel my shoulders relax and a laugh bubbles up from my chest, forcing me to take a much needed breath. Blinking my vision clear just in time to see the black van swerve into the driveway.

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips, wondering to myself just how hard it would be to convince Eddie "the freak" Munson to stick around.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, I quickly grab my things and run towards the door. As I swing it open, Eddie is already standing there, hand mid-air prepared to ring the doorbell.

My eyes work quickly, taking in the details of his appearance. He's missing his normal leather jacket, and instead wears a fitted, black long sleeve thermal and dark jeans. He has on boots instead of trainers, and his hair is still damp like he's recently showered.

My god. He looks good.

"Someone's eager to see me this morning," he teases.

I roll my eyes and huff. "Eager to not get a noise complaint. The entire neighborhood knows you're here."

Smirking, he props his forearm on the doorframe above my head, assaulting my senses with his annoyingly sexy scent. "They can know my name too, if you're loud enough" he taunts, wiggling his thick brows underneath a damp fringe.

"You're a pig, Munson!" I chastise, smacking the center of his chest.

"Ow! Come on! You led me right to that one" he laughs, rubbing the sting from his skin. "But you're right...I'm suppose to be a gentleman. Here, let me try again" he insists.

Fleur | Eddie Munson X OCWhere stories live. Discover now