Yeah, I’d thought I had it all figured out.
Then she came out into the living room and dropped that bomb on me right after I pressed play on Die Hard.
“I’m off my period. That’s what I was trying to tell you last night before you told me you didn’t want to watch Elf with me.”
On-screen, John McClane is avoiding questions about his estranged marriage. But in an instant, the extraneous sound disappears.
All my attention, all of my senses, every single nerve focuses in on her and her exclusively. There is no movie. There is no TV.
I watch nothing but her.
“So to clarify, that means we can have sex now,” she says, mistaking my silence for confusion. “You know, cross me off your bucket list. Then I can get out of your hair. Merry Christmas?”
I think she meant to say those last two words with sassy bravado, but it comes out as a question. Like she's unsure of herself. Unsure of me.
It’s time to set a few things straight.
“Come here. Now,” I tell her.
She regards me with wide eyes. I think I might be scaring her. But I can’t bring myself to care. I think of how weak I felt last night…how many times I had to fuck my own hand just to calm down. The half a bottle of bourbon I downed just to get the job done and knock myself out.
I could have had her. She sat down across from me at that table and fed me chicken, when the only thing I wanted—the only thing I’d truly hungered for all week was her.
All that anger seeps into my voice as I repeat, “Come here.”
She just stands there, glancing from side to side.
This girl is turning out to be someone who has to be told more than once. I need to show her why that isn’t a good idea when it comes to me.
“Come here.” My voice is a warning made of steel. “You’re not going to like what happens if I have to tell you again.”
She takes a tentative step toward me.
But then she glances to the side again. And this time, instead of looking back at me, she takes off running toward the hallway.
“If you want me, you’re going to have to find me!” she calls over her shoulder before disappearing around the hallway corner.
I'm so shocked by her sudden flight, it takes me a few moments to put together what just happened. To connect it to what we talked about last night.
She didn’t run away because she’s scared, I realize. She ran away because she wants me to chase and catch her.
She wants to be hunted and claimed.
Challenge accepted.
Maybe she was right about there being different ways to enjoy hunting.
I flare my nostrils like the animal she’s turned me into and go stalking after her. I’m tracking down my prey.
The entire hallway is dark, and every door except for the one leading into my dad's office stands open.
“Smart move, Red,” I call out to her, a lion congratulating a mouse. “I can only imagine how good you were at hide-and-seek when you were a kid.”
I walk down the hallway, peeking into each room. She also turned all the lights off. Another smart move.
But I let her know, “Neither of us are kids anymore, though. You’re playing games for fun. I’m playing to win…to conquer…to overpower you in every way. When I catch you—which I will—you’re going to find that out the hard way.”
I wait to see if that baits her enough to make a sound that will give me some idea of which room she’s hiding in, but nothing.
The hallway remains silent, save for the sound of my bare feet padding down the hall. If I wasn’t half out of my mind with lust, I’d be proud of her.
I go to my bedroom first and flip the light on. “Red, you in here?”
No answer.
“I came in here first for two reasons,” I tell the silent room. “Want to know why?”
Still no reply, but I tell her anyway. “One: this is where I stashed all my condoms.”
I make my way over to the nightstand and pull out a gold square from the drawer as I explain to her. “I need to make sure I’m ready because when I catch you, Red, I’m going to fuck you. Doesn’t matter where you are—that’s where I’m going to take you. Unless you show yourself right now and get on top of this bed.”
I wait, both hoping and not hoping that she takes the bait.
She doesn’t. But I notice the bed’s high enough to hide somebody underneath it. I drop down to my knees, but no Red.
“Guess that brings us to reason number two,” I say, standing back up. “This is the last place any sane person would hide. But I’m beginning to suspect you’re not sane, Red. Same as me.”