I swirled the rich berry wine in my glass, watching the way the liquid formed a pleasing spiral pattern and the way the legs of the alcohol hugged the sides of the glass. In a way, the old grapes had taken on a better life of their own. It was cathartic; seeing something sweet turned into a substance that stung open wounds and dulled the mind. It was poison.
Innocence turned to a deadly weapon in the blink of an eye. A controlled rot, if you will, eating away at the best parts of the grape and transforming it to something much more sinful.Perhaps it was odd associating myself with fruit but was I really wrong? At a basic level we are living things with no control over our lives that die, rot, then turn to soil components all over again.
If you thought about it, we were identical.
The sound of a soccer match filled the television in our living room, my back rested against the arm of the tan suede couch. My bare legs were stretched out across the couch, crossed at the ankles and stopping just before where Ashton was sitting with his own feet crossed on the wooden coffee table. I guess theoretically it was our furniture but not for very long so frankly, I didn't care. Ashton didn't either.
It had been an impossibly slow two weeks, putting us almost a third of the way through our mission. Slowly, I was migrating files onto a hard drive stored in a vent in my office. Ashton was similarly moving files to a drive in the testing lab, though he had to be much more discreet. Labs were full of prying eyes and video cameras. It made his job almost impossible but I didn't doubt him in the slightest. Being one of the ranking members of the security task force also helped me see the activities on his computer, making sure it was all hidden by Ashton perfectly. If not, I could cover the remaining tracks.Even Potvin had been holding back on giving Ashton and my assignments.
When we started asking for things, then I was sure Potvin would suddenly become a lot needier.My lips were pursed as I looked at the side of his face, observing his strong jaw and high cheekbones. Even the way he styles his hair was printed in my mind. I was no artist but based on the amount of time I had spent analyzing his face, I could draw Ashton Naifeh blindfolded like he was right in front of me.
My eyes watched intently as he tipped his wine glass up to his pink lips, watching his throat move as he swallowed. Naturally, my line of sight followed the movement to his defined chest, still shirtless from the shower he had taken less than an hour ago. Ashton never slept with a shirt on and I was starting to get used to the feeling of his firm chest against my back at night and his arm over my waist. Not that I trusted him; we both quite literally slept with a loaded pistol under our pillows.
I don't think we would ever trust each other.
"I know Russia is a foreign country, but I'm pretty sure staring is still considered rude," His deep tone drawled without looking away from the Russian-Belgian match. "Unless of course, you're about to profess your undying love. Then I'll allow some staring."
"Keep dreaming, Naifeh," I rolled my eyes while nudging his side with my foot. "I was going to wish you a happy birthday but I guess not."
Ashton turned and blinked at me with a 'you can't be serious right now' look in his ocean eyes. "What?" I asked defensively, shrugging my shoulders. "I did my research just like you did. So tell me, how does it feel to be twenty-eight, old man?"
Ashton rolled his eyes and scoffed at me. "You turn twenty-six in four months. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Zelin."
"All I'm saying is you're almost thirty. That's got to sting," I teased back. "Ten years ago I was a sophomore in high school. You were off shooting machine guns in the desert."
"I suppose," Ashton quipped. "But by that logic, when I was fifteen in high school I was only a year away from joining the army. I was already thinking about it by then. What about you? When did your military aspirations manifest?"
