“Honestly, he’s just always so into work. I get it, though. I love tech; I could do it all day, every day, without sleeping, eating, or drinking water.”
“But…?”
“But, nothing. I just choose to believe that I can do other things with my time and still have value.”
“Hm.” This is an interesting thought. I never associated myself with my work. Well, I never realized I did it, I guess. It’s like everything I am is because of my accomplishments, so much so that I never stopped, not until I met Tito.
We continue watching the show, get super far into it before we pass out, only to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.
Tito avoids Vince most of the weekend, and I don’t push him because who knows what he actually has to say to Tito. I’m not going to risk being found out. Not when we’re so close to getting everything we want from life. At least if I can’t have it all, I can at least live with the fact that I helped someone like Tito get where he wants to go.
When I’m with him, I feel like myself, and the person I have to be for the FBI just feels like a dream. A different reality that has nothing to do with me. It’s when I’m alone that it’s hard. Because when I’m alone, the thoughts are loud, and all they make me want to do is run away. But if I leave now, there’s no guarantee that Tito and his family will be safe. So, I’m stuck between two realities with opposing morals, and as much as I try to run from it, I keep ending up in Tito’s arms.
It’s late, Sunday night, we’re curled up in Tito’s bed, watching season two ofCowboy Bebop. He’s been playing with my hand, running his fingertips along the creases of it and completely distracting me from the show. It’s getting late, and I don’t want a repeat of Friday morning’s late arrival. Not when we have only tomorrow to make sure everything is perfect for the evening’s test run.
“I should get to bed,” I whisper, and he looks down at me sleepily.
“Okay,” He whispers back. “I’ll walk you to your room.” I inhale deeply as I stretch into a sitting position and crawl out of bed. He follows close behind until we’re at his door. He reaches for the handle at the same time as me, and we accidentally shock each other. It’s dark enough that we can see the spark. I look up, surprised because I don’t think something like that has ever happened to me.
“We have a spark.” He raises his brows with a goofy grin that makes me laugh. “I told you I’m funny.”
“Mhm. Hysterical.” I jest, opening the door for us both. He grazes a hand down the back of my bare arm as I begin to walk out, and I turn around, flustered by how quickly it turns me on.
“What?” He smirks, and I take a step closer to him.
“We need to sleep.” I barely whisper because these halls echo, especially the ones closest to the stairs.
“I know.” He plays dumb, but that mischievous grin is still tuning at his pink lips in the dark.
“Then stop touching me.”
“Stop touching you?” He speaks a little louder, knowing exactly what he’s doing. I get so stressed that someone might hear us that I bolt across the hall to my room, and I hear his feet knocking across the wood to follow.
“Tito,” I whisper scoldingly as he opens the door for me.
“You wanted to go to sleep.”
“Yes.” I nod, turning to face him, and he glances down the hall.
“What?” I ask, knowing he has an idea.
“I’ve got an idea.” He says like he can read my mind, and I try not to laugh, covering my mouth as I shake my head. His eyes widen when he can see I’m on the verge of losing it.
“Can I show you?”
“Fine,” I mumble, with my hand still over my mouth, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me down the hallway in the exact direction I went when I made my escape a few nights ago. I wonder what he’s doing as he takes me down the steps and through the kitchen. We’re headed towards the garden down, and I’m seriously lost.
“I’ve been here….” I speak a bit louder.
“Would you wait? We’re not there yet.” He shakes his head with a grin as he lets go of my wrist, and I follow him through the little maze of rose bushes, all the way to the end of the gardens, where a small hill slopes down. At the base of it is a towering tree with a thick trunk, and resting in the branches is a treehouse.
“Woah.” I catch my breath as he admires it proudly. “Who built this?”
“Carlito and I.”
“Carlito?”
“Our eldest brother…Half-brother.”