The Unidentified Redhead

"Hell, I don't know. I know it's probably suicide to try to make some big proclamation right before I leave, but I'm just going to miss you so damn much. These last few weeks have been, well, pretty fucking amazing," I said, touching his face.

"I agree. Amazing. So why do you assume it won't continue to be amazing? I, for one, am looking forward to all the phone sex we'll be having…" He gri

I smiled, thinking of said phone sex, but then shook my head and focused again.

"See, that's just it. Why would you want to have phone sex with me, when you could be having actual sex with anyone you wanted here?" I asked, quietly, not able to meet his eyes. He raised my chin and made me look at him. His eyes glowered at me.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," he replied shortly.

"Why? I'll leave, and you won't have to watch Golden Girls all the time anymore. You can go back to going out, living your hipster lifestyle, which, frankly you should. You are twenty-four, for fuck's sake, and I've been keeping you at home every night. How the hell are you not bored? There'll be women lining up for you," I huffed. I was getting all worked up, and quickly.

"Grace, you seem to be under the impression that I tell women I love them all the time. Can I tell you how often I've said that to anyone other than my family? Twice. That's it, in my entire life, twice. Why would I fuck around on you?" he asked, getting heated.

"Hey, man, people in love fuck around all the time. It happens. It's not that uncommon," I retorted, leaning up on the chair and out of his arms.

Here comes the shit storm…

"How about the next party you're at, and there's a blonde and a brunette wanting to take you home with them, huh? What do you do?" I continued.

"I tell them about the redhead that I'm in love with, and then I tell them to piss off. Where the hell is this coming from?" he asked, getting angry.

"It's coming from the fact that we're going to be three-thousand miles away from each other, and I'm scared to death about what's going to happen. Maybe I shouldn't be so involved already, but I am. And even though you probably should be, I hate the idea of you with anyone else," I said angrily, sitting up straight.

"Be with anyone else? Why don't you let me decide who I want to be with? Is this something I need to worry about? You seem awfully defensive. Something you want to tell me, Grace?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me, watching me carefully.

"Oh, please. You're the one that's going to have a pussy parade to choose from as soon as you pop back up on the grid. They'll be falling over with their legs in the air and it can be just like before you started spending your evenings with Ma Kettle," I snapped.

He glared at me, ru

"Grace, you are bloody insane! Are you hell bent on fucking this up before we really even get going? And a pussy parade? You're really pushing it…truly," he finished, the warning clear in his voice.

I shoved myself out of the chair and stalked over to the ledge, looking out at the city—the city that I was leaving. The city that I was leaving in two days. Two days. Why the hell was I picking a fight with him now when I was leaving in two mother fucking days?

I spun about fast, seeing him sitting in the chair dejectedly. He looked confused and hurt…and pissed as hell.

Would you quit trying to mess this up?

Dammit.

I walked back over and stood in front of him. He wouldn't look up. "Jack?" I asked, trying to get him to look at me. He didn't answer. I tried again.

"Hey, look at me. Please?" I asked again, his eyes closing at the word 'please'.

"I'm pissed at you, Gracie," he said darkly, but the use of the name 'Gracie' let me know he was more hurt than pissed.

"I know, I'm pissed at myself right now. Can you understand why I'm nervous though?" I inquired, daring to reach out another hand to his hair, scratching at his scalp. He ducked away from my hand, his eyes piercing. He was not going to let this slide so easily.

"I get why you're nervous to leave, but I don't get why you think I'd do something like that. If this is go

Oh man, he was better equipped at twenty-four to deal with this than I was.

"I know, love. You have to understand, I've got thirty-three years worth of crap baggage knocking around behind me, and if you take me, you take the baggage. Old insecurities…they're a bitch." I laughed spitefully.

"You don't think I'm nervous about this, too? The timing of this whole thing is crap. We're crazy to even try to make this work, but I think it's crazy not to. I don't know what's going to happen. We might be totally fucked."

"I agree, totally fucked," I answered, frowning.

"You need to settle down, though. No more pussy parade. That was uncalled for, Grace," he warned again, his face serious. "And quit blaming our age difference when it's your shit that's making this weird right now."

I paused, and took in what he said. He was right, this was all my shit. I reached out tentatively with my hand again, approaching the scalp scratch once more. This time, he let me.

"Fucking Nuts Girl," he sighed, closing his eyes again in acceptance of my hand.

"How about we just take it as it comes and we'll see how we manage the distance thing? We don't need to decide anything tonight…yes?" I continued.

He leaned in and pressed his face against my stomach, embracing me and pulling me into him.

"Yes," he said, his voice muffled as he hugged me tightly. We were quiet for a minute, as I played with his hair. "Grace?" he asked, still muffled.

"Mmm hmm?"

"You're thirty-three?" he asked my tummy.

"Yep," I answered truthfully. The jig was up.

"Fuck, you're old," he said, holding me tighter. He knew to restrain me.

"Hating you right now, Hamilton," I seethed.

"Loving you right now, Sheridan." He laughed.

Shit storm over…or was this just a shit squall?

I managed to get out of his grip and backed away from him. I walked over to where the hot tub was and slowly slipped out of my tank top and shorts. He watched me as I removed my bra and panties and slipped underneath the water.

"You can't love me from over there. Now, get your ass in here and make this thirty-three-year-old scream," I instructed, leaning back against the rim with my arms spread out across the back, making sure my breasts bobbed just above the surface.

He was in the tub in thirty-seven seconds.

And that was the night I found out Jack Hamilton could hold his breath underwater for an obscenely long time.

***

We slept deeply that night, exhausted, but pleasantly so. Curled up with his hands on my breasts, I slept the sleep of the solidly fucked. And that can be taken several ways.

The next morning dawned clear and su