Chapter 15: Lost

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April 12

Tayja

"There. 45 seconds, as requested."

I'm sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of Ryan with my Glock sitting on the bedspread between us. He's been reading in the bedroom, hiding from me, I suspect, ever since we came back inside from an afternoon of target practice. A very, very quiet afternoon of target practice, save for the echoing gunshots.

It seems he's given up wearing the mask, but he's still very uncomfortable with me viewing the injured side of his face. While he wore the mask, he was noticeably protective of his right side. Now that he's not wearing it, he's even more so. I'm not certain he even fully realizes he's doing it. It makes me feel sad for him, but part of me knows that he doesn't want that from me. I've decided to treat him as normally as possible. Maybe he'll subconsciously pick up on that and become more comfortable around me.

I was correct last night when I guessed he was handsome in the dim lighting. Now that I've seen him in the light of day, it's clear that he was more than just handsome. He's almost breathtaking. When I can only see the healthy side of his face, he looks like an actor or a model. He has well-defined features that are just soft enough not to be too angular. His eyes are the most luminous pair of blue eyes I've ever seen, even if one of them isn't real. They contrast sharply with his dark hair and eyebrows. His hair is very straight with a slight wave developing near the ends and it's much longer than he'd have been allowed to keep it while he was enlisted. I'm guessing he let it grow out to cover his face. I've noticed he sometimes tilts his head forward and lets his hair fall into his face as if to hide behind his hair. I'm pretty sure he's been cutting it himself, but surprisingly he seems to have done a decent job. Whether it was his intent or not, his hair falls in layered brown waves. It's gorgeous.

My eyes fall to his mouth. Somehow, his lips managed to escape the deep cuts and burns that characterize his right side. Staring at his lips, I feel a little bit of heat rush to my face. I look back into his piercing blue eyes and my mind starts to fill in the right side of his face with the mirror image of the left.

Now I'm the one feeling uncomfortable. I've got that slightly intimidating feeling you get when you're looking at someone extremely attractive and you suddenly realize they've caught you staring. I quickly look down at the bedspread, my face feeling warmer. I was always the type to turn shy and quiet around guys I found attractive.

"Thirty seconds," he says.

I look back up to him and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "What?"

Ryan looks pointedly down at the gun.

"Oh," I say, remembering the whole reason I came in here in the first place. I frown in irritation, mostly at myself for getting so flustered. I channel my frustration at my awkwardness into my voice. "Really?" I ask, exasperation coloring my tone. I mildly glare at him until I realize he's even more uncomfortable with our eye contact than I was just now. He's almost visibly squirming under my gaze. "Fine," I say, scooping up the gun. Without looking at him, I climb off the bed and make my way out of the room. At the door, I pause and look back at him. He's holding the book and his head is inclined as though he's reading it, but his eyes are on me.

"Fine," I repeat, gesturing with the gun. "But until that happens, you don't get any dinner."

"I told you not to point that at people you don't intend to shoot." His voice is low and quiet.

"Oh for heaven's sake. It's not even loaded." I make a show of ejecting the magazine and opening the gun to prove there's nothing in the chamber. I wave it at him again but this time I adhere to his rules and aim it at the wall instead of him as I say, "Besides, I think maybe I do intend to shoot you." I glare at him, embarrassed that I made this mistake again and that I'm so easily flustered by him.

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