When Gracie Met The Grump

by Mariana Zapata

The Defender huffed, then rolled off me. Fucking butthole. And almost like he could read my mind, his head whipped back in my direction.

That was easy for him to believe. He didn’t know everything.

“We’re going to get out,” The Defender kept going… reassuring me?

“Maybe we can be temporary friends. Until we get out of here.” I sniffled. “We only have each other in here.”

The Defender shocked me when he muttered in English, “Fuck. Fine.”

Fine? Fine? All right. Someone was dying to be my friend. Oh boy. I almost laughed, but I did sigh.

And I wasn’t going to say it out loud, but I could tell that movement a minute ago—him pinning me down—had cost him. I hadn’t missed his flinch and the strain on his face. No matter how much more he was moving, there was still something wrong. He was getting better, but it wasn’t some kind of miracle.

He wasn’t that kind of superhero, I guess, who could regrow an arm in an hour. Or at least not anymore for whatever terrifying reason.

Reality was though: I didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust me, but we really were all each other had. He was my best shot of getting the hell out of here, so one of us had to start somewhere. I could… I could give an inch.

“My real name is Altagracia, but no one has ever called me that.” It hit me then that he might be the last person to ever know my full, real name. My heart pounded a little bit; I was never supposed to tell anyone what it was, but I kept going anyway. “You can call me Gracie,” I whispered.

“I don’t… remember asking,” the man across the room said. And there he was.

It wasn’t like I had his bowel system. If he had one of those.

How he knew I wasn’t the one who did something was beyond me though.

Tell no one. Keep your head down. Don’t get too close to anyone. Don’t do this, don’t do that. But I was still here, and I had no idea what the future would hold.

“You’re not going to kill me or anything, are you?” He side-eyed me right back. “If I wanted… I’d have done it already.” That was real comforting.

“My parents stole money from the cartel, and they want it back.” There. It was that easy, wasn’t it?

Dark eyelids fell slowly over those incredible pupils. “This wasn’t… a two-way road… with questions.” I knew that better than anybody, but we were past me catering to him to that extent.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone anything. I don’t have any friends, remember?” Something flickered in his eyes. “You said you did.” I snorted, and it was only about half bitter. “I was lying.” He blinked. Then he watched me for a long, long moment while I stared right back at him.

“Bullshit.” His gaze narrowed. “I’m twenty-nine,” I offered, like he was curious about it when he hadn’t even cared about my name. Then he struck again. “Did I ask?”

Why did I even bother? Why was I still surprised when he talked to me like that? I glared at him. “I don’t get why you have it out for me. Did I do something in another lifetime? Did I cut you off one day?”

Oh, the look. The fucking look he gave me. I must have done something fucking unforgivable. Maybe that’s what had...

“I get it now. I know why they don’t let you talk on TV.” He laughed. The son of a bitch who didn’t care what my name was, what my age was, and was annoyed by my hunger, fear, and mouth laughed.

Because it wasn’t a chuckle. It was a straight-up laugh. Round and free and not the evil cackle I would have imagined if I’d ever thought about it. Or no laugh at all.

So the question came out of me faster than I could stop it. “Is that why you don’t talk?” If his laugh hadn’t been bad enough, his actual answer was a fucking bomb that shook the pilings I’d built my life on. His “yeah” set off another explosion I hadn’t been able to prepare for.

“I don’t see a point… in spewing off bullshit… I don’t mean,” he admitted.

“We know better than most that… that’s never going to happen… but he still… hopes.” What all did they talk about?

“This isn’t… the end,” The Defender added.

“You think so?” A dark eye settled right on me. “We’ll get out of here… long before you have to suffer… too much.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked him. “Because there is nothing… on this planet that can contain me.” Big fucking words from someone still struggling to sit up.

Now, I just saw him more as the grouch who had laid in my bed and eaten a whole big bag of Cheetos.

For enough time that I was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep from the steady rhythm of his breathing, but then he made the mistake of cracking an eye open… and caught me staring at him. “What are you… doing?” The Defender deadpanned, back to irritated.

“Don’t start snotting up. I don’t like the way… your tears smell.”

“Thirty-five.” He was thirty-five? “Huh,” I muttered in pure surprise.

“Are you and The Primordial together?” I asked him in a rush in Korean, without thinking. The look of absolute disgust that came over his features would follow me for the rest of my life. “Fuck no.”

It was like hearing a celebrity had passed away. I had no emotional connection to the two people who had only caused so much heartache in my life.

“Do you have a partner? A wife?” All right, I’d gone there. Too late now. I made the shape of a cross over my heart.

The son of a bitch growled. I stared at him for a moment, then somehow managed to smile a little. It really was kind of nice to not tiptoe around his ass so much anymore. “As good-looking as you are, it would take a very special person to deal with you, huh?” That got me another world-class glare. I smiled a little more.

“If I wanted a partner, I could find a partner,” he grumbled. My nod was so serious, even I almost bought it. “I’m sure.” He was gorgeous after all. “As long as you didn’t actually open your mouth.”

Who was this man and where did the quiet, grumpy being go? And why was I eating this shit up? Was I that starved for attention?

I can’t stop worrying about the fact you might be the last person I ever talk to.” The Defender raised an eyebrow slowly.

But all I had to do was take one look at the man on the floor by me and see that nope, I was wrong. There was a living, breathing man with an attitude like nobody’s business. He had opinions. He was judgmental. He sure as shit had bad moods and a smart mouth.

For all his other talents, he was… I wasn’t sure I was ready to use the word I was thinking of. It was disturbing.

All it took was for me to remember how people called him the Antichrist, how he’d mentioned people throwing things at him. That fire that had hurt a lot of people before he’d gotten there to help save so many lives, some people even managed to blame him for it.

Once I thought about it, I could see him waiting a second or two to save someone if they’d pissed him off. I could totally see him being petty enough.

Those purple eyes met mine, and we stared at each other for a second. He’d regretted his answer. He confirmed it when he close...

“Are you sure?” “No,” he replied sarcastically.

But would it be better to eat it all at once or split it up? Was this a one-time thing, or could we expect more? The fact I had no idea was answer enough.

His features said he was skeptical. “You were trying… to share?”

Rubbing my arms up and down for a second, I met his gaze before scooting closer and timidly pressing my fingertip against the back of his hand. He didn’t move. I pressed the rest of my fingertips against the skin on the top of his hand and raised my eyebrows.

“Does your body regulate itself or—oh, forget it.” He wasn’t going to admit shit; I’d barely gotten his age. We weren’t on a first-name basis yet. What was the point in asking?