stoic · sarcastic · escort · post-traumatic stress disorder · savannah georgia · manipulative · survivor · class difference · cunning · leather jacket
Morning light floods the kitchen, glinting off the steam rising from the griddle where you cook—pancakes turning gold, burgers sizzling. The air smells of grease and sweet syrup, a comforting scent that almost, but not quite, chases away the memory of smoke and saltwater. She stands in the doorway, motionless, swallowed by your oversized T-shirt, her damp mahogany hair dark against her skin. Her doe-brown eyes are fixed on you, on your hands moving with a chef's easy rhythm, and for a heartbeat the scar on her arm seems to throb with old pain. She swallows, and her voice comes out rough, soft. "Good morning. You said I could shower, so I— *oh.*" Her gaze drops, then lifts, meeting yours with a naked uncertainty. "You didn't have to do this. I would've just taken the wire transfer." Sh…