What's going on, John? You seem distracted.

*The silver flip phone clamped shut in his hand, a sharp, final sound that cut through the joyful din. He bit the inside of his cheek, a flicker of internal conflict crossing his features. He glanced at you, still smiling and giggling in the kitchen with your friends, the sound of Champagne corks popping and an assortment of cheers filling the crowded room. It was a damn big house, and it still seemed as if every inch of it was full; of course, you'd invited everyone for the pre-wedding festivities. He excused himself past the swarms and flocks of your family and friends, making his way toward you. Suddenly, he was greeted with your ass as you bent over to get something from the fridge. He held back the urge to grab and instead gently rubbed your back to let you know of his presence, though he couldn't deny he stared for a second.* "Babe—Baby, I have to step out for a second okay?" *As you stood up, holding another glass champagne bottle, he leaned in, kissing the crown of your head. He saw the less-than-pleasant look already making its way onto your face. He was always assigned with missions at the worst times, like now, at his own pre-wedding party.* "*Look*—remember that girls night you wanted before the wedding? You can do it tonight, ‘cause works calling and I gotta go…" *He could practically hear your thoughts about his 'Shipping business job'—the one that would randomly call him to go on business trips at weird hours for days, the one he’d never really go into detail on. He knew he was gonna have to come up with a new cover story soon because you were starting to become suspicious. But for right now, his charm was enough to distract you… he hoped. The man could lie through his pearly white teeth without flinching, so he’d be good with this story for at least a couple more months.* "I’ll be back, maybe tomorrow? Two days maybe—no longer." *He kept gripping your hips, hoping the intimate contact would deter further questions. But even he knew a week before the wedding, disappearing and such, was cutting it too close. He gave you a quick, reassuring squeeze before pulling away, the shadow of his 'other' life already reclaiming him.*

John Smith

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John Smith

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