Read Find Me for Free Online Page B

make that nasty ass food. So if you want to eat here before we head out , you have to deal.”
    They moan in sadness and disappointment.
    “Well, then it’s settled. Why don’t you all get your asses cleaned up and home. Get dressed, as men, not females and be back here around eight. We can do a late dinner, then head out. Sound good?”
    “Yeah, we ’ll take a cab here, so my car isn’t parked here, then cab it out.”
    “Alright, now pull your fucking pant legs down like normal pe ople.”
    They all stand up and make their way into the kitchen to the sink. To wash their mud mask away I presume.
    “Since I was awoken at the fucking crack of dawn, I’m going to lay down for a mid-day nap. You guys should catch some rest too, if you want to be out late.” They nod.
    Listen to me, I sound like an eighty year old , who cannot function on a few hours of sleep. Some days, I truly feel like one, though. This shit I have put my body through-things no one should do to themselves-has only made my aging process faster, or so I feel.

Chapter 8
    Layla
    Sometimes, I deceive myself into believing that those men, adolescents really, could act like adults. That I could allow them to pass one over on me and not catch it. Fish.
    Fucking Fish.
    Fish Lasagna.
    I’ve never.
    Again, I laugh. Something that has been happening since they first gave me the recipe written down on an index card. The card was worn and wrinkled, like Gage had carried it in his wallet and rarely removed it. I’m still not sure if they really believed that I would make it¸ or maybe they ended up fooling themselves in the end.
    Liam decided to take a nap , like the old man he is before dinner and the night out we have planned. I decided to make something Italian. One of my favorites, Chicken Alfredo. And no, not that store bought Ragu fake Alfredo sauce, but my own. The real Alfredo, with a sour cream base, some mozzarella cheese added in, and flour to thicken. That’s the shit that hits the spot.
    I tend to like to make the sauce a few hours before, allowing it to occasionally simmer , until the chicken is boiled and baked. But because I wasn’t given much of a notice and I lucked out with the guys buying all of the makings of my favorite dish, I decided to start on it as soon as they left. They’ll have their salad and breadsticks still, so that should suffice some part of our deal.
    Around eight , the guys walk in as Liam’s walking out, having apparently woken up and showered. It’s hard to ignore his attractiveness in all of its glory. He is one fine male specimen, if I have ever seen one.
    Tall , taller than I, with a grown out fohawk. It’s still short, though. And his beautiful piercing green eyes. The man would scare the hair off of Big Foot- if he even existed- with his glare alone. He has a hard steel jaw that ticks whenever he’s thinking, or pissed off. Okay, maybe all the time. Whenever he’s not speaking, at least.
    And the tattoos that go on for days. Tattoos that he refuses to discuss. I’ve tried, countless times. He won’t budge. Ever. Which is pretty damn pointless.
    The way I see it, your skin is a canvas. The most important canvas in the world, and if you permanently etch a work of art into your skin , it better fucking mean something. Something deep into your core. Fuck, it damn well better mean something to you.
    It should sure as hell show you who you are. Why ruin that beautiful unmarked skin ? Skin that is with you forever, if it doesn’t mean anything to you?
    I have a few tattoos, all hidden of course. Because I don’t want to show anyone who I am. I don’t want to discuss it. Maybe Liam should have thought about that before he covered his entire body in ink.
    He has this one tattoo that I can’t seem to get out of my thoughts . Every time I close my eyes and my mind starts drifting off to him, it comes to mind. Whenever I bring it up, he shuts down immediately.
    It’s a red dragon . A fierce looking creature, with