Read Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel for Free Online

coffee table to get a vantage point. I slide over a few paces so I’m directly in front of her, her head barely peeking over mine.
    “I’m going to kill you, I swear.” She laughs menacingly and jumps onto my back. Stumbling a little until I regain my balance, I walk back to the sofa so that, just in case I drop her, she won’t land on the glass table. When I sit, she wraps her legs tight around my middle and squeezes her thighs. Then her controller is in my face, blocking my vision, and I have no choice but to drop mine to move her away. At that moment, the match ends, with her score barely higher than mine.
    “Told ya so.” She giggles, unlatching her feet and scooting to the other side of the couch. “I’ll take the bed, thank you very much,” she proudly states.
    “I should demand a rematch due to unsportsmanlike conduct, but I’ll just insist you cook too.”
    “As long as you don’t try to say we tied. I’ll be the dutiful guest and feed you for your generosity, but I’m the winner, Cutter. Say it,” she demands with a huge grin.
    “You’re the winner,” I mutter under my breath.
    “Louder, dammit. Tell the entire world. Let them know I’m the best ever.”
    Standing on the couch, I cup my hands around my mouth and yell, “Josette Morelli is the greatest video game player in all of the land!”
    “Perfect. Now pick a movie, sir.”
    Scanning the vast selection, I pick two DVDs and show them to Josette, giving her the final say. Of course she picks the chick movie. I honestly only pulled it out because I thought she would choose the action one, but leave it to me to be wrong. Taking CoD out of the PlayStation, I load
Friends with Benefits
and grab a bag of chips from the top of the fridge.
    We settle in to enjoy the rest of lazy Saturday, and about thirty minutes into the movie Josette takes off her hoodie around the same time Justin tells Mila he wants to play tennis with her. Now my mind’s in the gutter as I try to distract myself from glancing at the thin tank top Josette’s wearing and wondering what she’d look like without it. The only thing making me better than Colt is I’m not voicing the question.
    “Want a soda?” I ask, already walking into the kitchen. Bracing my palms on the edge of the counter, I bend and take a few deep breaths, so I don’t hear her join me.
    “What’s wrong? You okay?” she asks, placing her hand on my back and trying to get a read on my face. Trying to shrug her off without coming off douchey, I open the fridge, putting the door between us.
    “Just got dizzy for a second. I’m good,” I lie. “Soda?” I hold up a can, which she accepts.
    “You sure?” she asks again, her voice laced with both concern and skepticism.
    “Yeah. Positive.”
    For the rest of the movie, I make sure to stay as far away from her as possible while I gather my thoughts. A slight crush on a friend is totally normal. I remember that much from before. But the things I’m thinking and feeling right now are far from friendly.
    The credits start to roll, so I switch back to cable and flip the channel to watch something funny and not romantic at all.
Impractical Jokers
might be the least sexy show on television and, to be honest, I need the damn reprieve. Josette leans forward—cleavage on full display—to grab her soda, and I have to turn my head quickly to not go back to thinking about her without that fucking tank top. Then, of course, since the gods are all against me, the woman drops her can and it spills all over her and the sofa.
    “Shit, I’m sorry, Cutter,” she says as she runs into the kitchen for a towel.
    “Don’t worry about it.” Okay. This is good. She’s soaking wet with sticky pop. She’s going to want to go home and get fresh clothes. I’ll be able to digest all of this shit in my head and figure out what the hell to do with it. Maybe the gods favor me more than I thought.
    “You got clean towels in the closet?” she asks, and I do a double