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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Confounded: Part I - 10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 --==Taylan's POV==--

The closer the weekend got, the more nervous I became. I saw Mitchell from time to time, in the hallways, but he never tried or did anything; he acted normally, and no word crossed his lips, other than work-related subjects.

The news that I had quit my job had been received with surprise and shock; questions flew from day one, which I answered with a credible story I'd made up the previous night.

Then, right before the weekend, on a Thursday, the temp-agency sent over a candidate that turned out to be a blessing; he could take over my job without much difficulty. All he needed was for me to make him familiar with the system; but I did make an agreement with the department that they could call me whenever a problem arose.

And then Saturday arrived.

**********

7am. It was friggin' 7am! Was he fucking kidding me?

I'm absolutely not a morning person, so when Mitchell got the video-com in a state of emergency, he definitely wasn't scoring any points with me. Instead, they'd be deducted from his scorecard, which I kept in my head; minus 100.

I opened the door when his shadow appeared in front of the opal glass. My brain was far from present yet, and I hadn't put anything on, other than my boxers.

"Oh, wow," he said, coming in, "we're immediately jumping in the sack?"
He grinned, looking me up and down, shamelessly.

"Minus 200," I mumbled.

"Minus 200?" he echoed, "what does that mean?"

"Point deduction. Have you gone completely insane? Do you know what time it is? It's frigging 7am!" I growled back, shutting the door none too gently.

"Ooh, so I'm rated via score card today? How much do I have to get before you'll consider me for boyfriend material?" he asked, jokingly. God, why was he awake? And why was he so god damn cheerful? I hate that!

"20.000"

"Mmm, grumpy, huh? I told you; early morning to midnight."

He followed me into the kitchen where I began to make coffee, coming to stand close beside me, watching what I was doing. When I was done and turned to walk back to the living room, he slipped an arm around my waist, stopping me; his intention was obvious.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," I protested.

"So? I should care about that because?" he answered, shrugging, and then made damn sure I got his point. He exaggerated a smacking sound when he lifted his head. "Nothing wrong with it."
Blushing like a chambermaid, I took a step back. Sheesh, kissing me like that had an immediate effect.

"Prick."

"How many points do I have now?"

"Mmm...zero."

"200 a kiss? Oh, this is gonna be easy, then."
I growled threateningly. He was a pain in the ass.

"Go shower or I'll make it a 1.000, right now."

I quickly made myself scarce, and his loud laughter followed me all the way to the bedroom, where I closed the door with a loud bang. But with a grin on my face.

Twenty minutes later I reappeared, awake, showered, teeth cleaned, and dressed casually. If his clothes were anything to go by, he didn't have anything special planned; he wore stonewashed, light-blue tight jeans (scratch one from prejudice list), a white shirt and a sweater (scratch two).

I poured coffee for myself (and another, blushing when he frowned when I didn't offer him a cup), and went into the living room, taking my usual place on the couch, flicking on the TV with the remote.

Not ten seconds later he came sitting beside me, almost on top of me really, taking the remote from me as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and flicked it off again.

"Hey! I wanted to watch the news."

"Nope. This is my day. Tomorrow as well. I'm not gonna waste it on TV; I want your full attention."

"Tsk. Minus 500."

"The more you move me into the minus, the better," he grinned, keeping the remote handily out of my reach. "That'll ensure a lot of kissing today."

I felt my cheeks color due to the irresistible, mischievous glance he gave me; where the hell was that conservative bozo he used to be?

"Would you stop with those insinuations?"

"Why? It's a normal word. Kissing..."
Yeah, but when he said it, it sounded way more...suggestive. I mumbled something.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"You shouldn't talk about it; you should do it," I said, without thinking. He promptly set his mug on the table, turning toward me.

"Okay."
I snickered involuntarily; I'd have to watch my mouth, today.

"Jesus, why are you so cheerful? Can't a man recover from a good nights' sleep?"
He looked at his watch.

"Kit will arrive by train in about one and a half hours. You think you'll be recovered by then?"

"Why so early?" I asked, frowning.

I had thought the kid would come around noon or something. That way, I could get used to the idea of meeting him today. And what was this idiocy I had gotten myself into? A kid, for god sakes; he had a kid!

"Well, I called him, to tell him about you..."

"Christ..."

"...and told him that you'd be with me for the weekend," he continued without missing a beat. "He's dying to meet you. He wasn't supposed to arrive until this afternoon, but he wanted to be here as soon as possible. He took the first train, this morning."

"Oh, goody-goody," I mumbled, not all that enthusiastically. "What did you tell him?"

"Not all that much; he'll have to get to know you himself."

The speed with which he had told his son about me scared me a little; Mitchell seemed so sure of himself. Self confidence is one thing but... what the hell was I supposed to say to the kid?

"You're the first guy he ever met; there have been a few others, of course, but I never introduced them."

I almost choked on my coffee; sure! Why not?! Raise the bar a little, why don't you? He slapped me on the back, snickering.

"Don't worry; he's as nervous as you are. He got completely riled up; actually wanted to come last night."

"How old is that fu...Kit?" I asked, still coughing.

"He just turned fifteen." I frowned. Fifteen? Then Mitchell had been pretty young when he'd gotten married.

"Where's he live?"

"San Diego. Got on the train at 6:15, this morning."
Oh my god! What if he didn't like me? Oh man; I was running out of time, fast!

Changed a few lines for flow reasons.
andr0gene 2005-Present; All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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  • Site Administrator

That last line shows Taylan's true hopes. He wants Mitchell's son to like him :)

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On 11/18/2015 06:31 PM, Graeme said:

That last line shows Taylan's true hopes. He wants Mitchell's son to like him :)

;)

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