Mine

But that night, York and Mrs. Ellen went to see a new sci-fi movie. Neither were concerned that Zola was on a date. I’d said no to the movie and vowed to wait at the house for her.

Mrs. Ellen had argued that Zola was now eighteen and had no curfew. I responded that Zola still needed a curfew. Mrs. Ellen laughed.

Thankfully, Mrs. Ellen didn’t know I’d taken Zola’s date to the side, showed him my knife, and told him to bring her home by eight.

Zola and her date returned at eight on the dot.

I’d already drank half a bottle of whiskey waiting for them to show up. And then the douchebag didn’t even walk her to the door. Granted, I stood in the doorway with a gun and a scowl on my face. He saw me, dropped his mouth open, let her out, and then sped the fuck off.

It hadn’t been my best moment.

Zola strolled up to the house in a very tight red dress. “Hunter, you scared the shit out of him.”

As she moved, her breasts jiggled and were close to coming out of the top.

I watched her walk inside the house. “Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean you need to wear a bathing suit everywhere you go.”

“This dress hides more than a bathing suit.”

“Said no one.” Following her, I sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

“I had some wine at dinner.”

“You’re not twenty-one.” I slammed the door closed.

She turned and faced me. “It was his family’s restaurant. They own the little pizza joint near—”

“How much wine did you have?”

“Hunter, really?” She pointed at my hand. “And would you put the gun down, please.”

I’d forgotten I was still holding it. Still, her last few words had been slurred. She’d had too much wine.

“How was your date?”

“All Jefferey did was ask questions about you.”

“Jefferey the jerk?” I placed my gun on the coffee table.

“He’s my friend.” She pointed to the gun. “If Mom sees that, she’s going to flip.”

“I’ve got an hour before she comes back.” I walked over to Zola, wanting to make sure she was okay. “Do you need some water?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy.”

“You shouldn’t drink with douchebags.”

“Thanks for the advice.” She gestured to the kitchen. “Maybe I can make up my bad choice this evening by having a glass with you.”

The frown left my face. “No. You’re not old enough.”

“Mom lets me have wine sometimes with my dinner. People let their kids drink wine in France.”

“We’re not in France.”

She poured herself a glass and me too. “Have one with me.”

I was happy she was back from the date. “Maybe.”

We had one glass together. I grilled her more about Jefferey. Then we shifted the conversation to what I’d been doing in the Army. We ended up having another glass and another. Minutes passed, and we’d inched closer and closer to each other in the kitchen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice reached places inside me I didn’t know could be touched.

“You’ve grown up into a beautiful woman.”

She smiled. Her curly, black hair fell over the side of her face, hiding one of those deep brown eyes.

“He didn’t kiss me,” she whispered and stared at my mouth. “Either he was too scared, or he didn’t want to.”

“Trust me. He wanted to.”

“Then, you messed it up.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be kissing douchebags either.”

Humor hit her eyes. “Then, maybe I should kiss you.”

I paused. I was going to tell her that could never happen, but I knew that deep inside I wanted it to be a lie. Something pulled me to her. Her calming energy soothed my soul.

Her words were bold. Only eighteen, she knew what she wanted and went for it. While I’d sought adventure in the Army, I still didn’t know what I expected out of life. I was just happy that I’d survived.

A tense silence filled the room as she waited for my response.

I didn’t know what to say. My cock had jerked in my jeans. My feelings twisted. She was young, just a few weeks from turning eighteen. Most likely she’d been a virgin, whereas I was in my early twenties and fucked any chick that loved a uniform.

But my cock remained hard, and I knew I had to kiss her. One day, if not that day. The desire burned inside me and irritated the shit out of me too.

“No,” I whispered. “You shouldn’t kiss me either.”

A little bit of embarrassment hit her.

“You deserve so much more, Zuzu.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“Trust me.” I touched her chin, unable to not touch her a little. “One day, you will be kissed by someone who will die for you.”

Sighing, she turned away and took a sip of her wine. “To kissing a man that will die for me.”

I raised my glass as a tiny bit of jealousy hit me. While I wanted someone to love her and be worthy, I couldn’t think of anyone else who could fill those shoes, but me.