Page 54 of The First Kind of Love
Before I can argue why that wouldnotlook cool and that Idoin fact need depth perception to keep my job, Gage saunters over to the receptionist’s desk like he’s had one too many drinks—which he has. Meanwhile, Shiloh and I remain hidden, pinning our gazes on the colorful poultry that’s currently trying to fit its entire beak around a rock. Chickens aren’t that smart, right?
Gage is too far away for us to eavesdrop, but judging by the starstruck expression on the receptionist’s face, his charisma might just be strong enough to let us get away with this crime. I don’t know how long we have until our façade falls, so I need to act now before I lose my gall.
“Cover me. I’m going in,” I announce, making a mental note of the distance I have to cover to get the chicken into the elevator without the staff noticing. It’s far, but Gage’s ability to talk a person’s ear off is unparalleled—especially if alcohol is involved.
Shiloh’s neck practically sustains whiplash with the way she looks at me, then the rooster, then me again. “Wait, what? What if it squawks? What if you draw attention?”
“It’s too late now! I already committed to it!” I whisper-screech over my shoulder, tiptoeing toward the unsuspecting victim like the fucking Pink Panther, all while a cocktail of adrenaline and nausea funnels through my body.
The rooster is in my sight. Gangly neck, weird red flappy thing hanging from his beak, eyes like two bubbles on the side of its head. Little dude isn’t going to know what hit him.
Oh my God. Do I hear myself? I’m going crazy. I’m kidnapping this feathered monstrosity in the middle of the night! Who have I become?
With Shiloh offering me a supportive thumbs-up from the bushes—and Gage’s obnoxiously loud voice filling the hotel lobby—I dive for the long-neck dinosaur, squeezing it in my arms as my elbows scrape against the polished floor. There’s a subsequent cluck of fear that shoots out of its tiny body, and it begins to flap its wings in a frenzy, an explosion of feathers hampering my vision.
A few of the loitering guests in the vicinity give me a strange look, but they don’t bother to alert security. Before I know it, I’m wrestling on the ground with a demonic rooster a quarter of my size, getting a wing to the cheek and a foot to the chest. It’s surprisingly strong for something so small in stature.
This was a terrible idea. Why did I let Gage talk me into this?!
Shiloh appears by my side in a flash, trying to pry its talons off my body, and we beetle toward the elevator, followed by a continuous squawking cacophony that somehow doesn’t manage to attract the attention of any of the employees. I have no idea what Gage is doing, but whatever it is, it’s working.
“Hold it still!” she screams quietly, struggling to get a good grip on it while its neck does a freaky gyroscopic motion thing and its head stays disturbingly still. It’s like every time sheswipes at it, its body contorts in an unnatural shape to evade her attack. Not to mention that its soulless stare is really starting to creep me out.
Embarrassingly out of breath, I wheeze, “I’m trying!”
With undeniable urgency, Shiloh slams the elevator buttons while Rooster Cena uses my mortal flesh as a goddamn scratch off. If the receptionist were to turn her head ninety degrees, she’d witness the crime currently taking place. This elevator needs to open now. My grip is loosening. I’m not going to be able to hold this thing for much longer.
Finally, after a couple of strenuous seconds, the elevator doors ping open, and I throw myself inside the metal prison just as Shiloh presses the close button. Since we’re in an enclosed space now, I cautiously let go of the chicken, watching as it runs around in circles aimlessly.
“Oh my God. You did it,” she pants, looking sexy as hell with her hair disheveled and sweat dripping down her temples.
The rooster, thankfully, has become too enraptured by its reflection to continue its onslaught. It puffs its feathers up in the stainless-steel mirror, trying to find an opening so it can rough up its apparent competition.
I press my back up against the wall. “Wedid it.”
“I mean, of course I believed in you this entire time, but wow…”
I nod. “I think that’s one of the riskiest things I’ve ever done, and it wouldn’t have been possible if it wasn’t for you. You don’t only make me want to be a better person, but you make me want to live my life to the fullest, Sunshine.”
The most adorable blush slopes over Shiloh’s cheekbones. “Here’s to new beginnings.”
When the elevator spits us out on the sixth floor, I have a more secure grip on my fowl friend, this time creating a little nook with my arms for its butt.
Opening the door to Hayes and Aeris’ suite, I present theguest of honor with a proud smile, and everyone bursts into rambunctious hoots and hollers. No longer squeaking like a chew toy, the rooster slow blinks at the group, head bobbing around as it takes in its new surroundings, its little chest rising in sync with mine.
Gage comes skidding into the room a moment later, Roadrunner-style, pumping both fists into the air when he notices the prized poultry snuggled safely in my arms. “Atta boy, Ful!”
“Damn, Fulton. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Cali inputs.
I let the little guy loose so it can roam around, and our teammates take turns capturing point-five pictures of its adorably ugly face. Passing on the responsibility of a flawless return to Gage, I feel like I can finally breathe again, and Shiloh and I celebrate our win with a look that does nothing to soft-pedal the hunger in both of our eyes.
I’d be lying if I said my friends’ comments didn’t massively inflate my ego. But I needed some ego inflating, alright? Speaking of inflation, the lower half of me is getting ready to Irish goodbye this bitch in the next five minutes so I can have Shiloh all to myself.
While everyone’s way too focused on our new companion, I pull Shiloh close to me, my nose dovetailed in her neck as I greedily inhale the scent of her—a whirlwind of vanilla, cinnamon, and a tinge of vodka from her drink. She squeaks in surprise, and I’m a sick fuck for loving the sound of it—sicker even for wanting to hear it when she’s writhing underneath me.
“Wanna get out of here?” I whisper, parting my lips and dragging them over the steep incline of her throat.
After we wash our hands, of course.
