With a crash, the table flipped, toppling to the floor, and then Fisher was on his feet, lifting me out of my chair, lifting me from the ground… crossing the tent. My back slammed up against something solid and hard—a bookcase?—but it wasn’t the shock of the pain that ripped the air from my lungs. It was Fisher’s mouth.
This was not earned at all. Waiting on some actual romance in this story, otherwise it’s not going to rank highly for me. Possibly a DNF coming up.
