Every Second Counts

I had read through all of the information Parker had collected on Dylan Case and had found nothing out of the ordinary on him. He lived in an apartment on the west side, and he had worked as a security guard at a mall before he had started working at my building now. I had decided that I was going to go talk to him for a little bit the next time he was working and I was home.

I pulled my car into the parking lot, looking up at my condo’s window to see the blinds wide open. I made a mental note to myself to close it when I got upstairs, not liking the idea that anyone could look inside, even if I was several stories up.

I walked inside the building, and a smirk formed on my face when I saw Dylan sitting there, glancing down at his phone. I realized at this point just how easy it would have been for someone to simply walk past him while he was preoccupied with his phone. I walked over to him, and he slowly looked up at me.

“Can I help you?” he asked, clearly running his eyes up and down my body.

“Yes,” I stated, putting my hand on top of the front desk he was sitting at, looking straight at him, while his eyes continued to roam my body. “How long have you been working here?” I inquired, and his eyes travelled up to meet mine, a questioning look in them.

He smirked at me as he looked at my breasts once again. “Why do you ask?” he asked me. “Wondering how you could go this long in your life without me in it?” he used a lame pickup line.

I opened my mouth to speak when I suddenly felt an arm snake around my waist, and after my initial shock, I leaned in to the touch. I looked up to see Kris standing next to me, and I smiled at him, though he couldn’t see it, as he was glaring at Dylan. “What are you doing?” Kris asked me, and I bit my lip, trying to think of a quick lie, not wanting to tell him about the break-in just yet.

“Nothing,” I replied, and Kris looked down at me questioningly, before looking over at Dylan to see him staring at me once again. “You feel like dinner tonight?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I smiled, realizing just how starving I was at the moment.

“Come on up to my place, and I’ll make you something,” he told me, and I glanced at Dylan to see him now glaring at Kris. I smiled once again, nodding my head before grabbing Kris’s hand and leading him to the elevator, forgetting about Dylan for the time being.

As soon as we were in the elevator, Kris looked down at me, asking, “So, what was really going on with you and that security guard? Besides him blatantly hitting on you?”

“Jealous, are we?” I smirked, intentionally not answering his first question.

Kris shrugged his shoulders while looking down at me. “What can I say? When it comes to you, I’m possessive,” he smiled, and I grabbed the back of his head, pulling it down and kissing him passionately. “What was that for?” he smirked when we separated as the door to the elevator opened on his floor.

“For being you,” I said simply, and Kris seemed to accept that answer as he walked to his door, unlocking it and motioning for me to go inside. I unhooked my holster and set it and my gun on a table near the front door. I turned around to see Kris staring at me, and I tilted my head to the side, asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied slyly.

“Come on, tell me,” I insisted.

“I love you,” he told me, walking towards me and putting his hands on my hips.

“I love you, too,” I smiled at him. “But, can we eat? I’m starving,” I said with a small laugh, just as my stomach made a noise, as if trying to prove that I was in fact hungry.

“Let’s see what I can fix,” he said, walking towards the kitchen. I followed him and looked in his cabinets as he opened them, laughing when I found that they were nearly empty.

“Do you ever go grocery shopping?” I questioned.

“When do I have time?” Kris countered, and I rolled my eyes at him before walking over to the refrigerator and opening it and the freezer.

“Frozen pizza it is, I guess,” I said, grabbing the lone pizza from the freezer, telling Kris to turn on the oven to get it preheating. “Kris, this is sad,” I told him. “And, I’m pretty sure Coach would kill you if he knew that we resorted to frozen pizza for dinner.”

“Well, we could have gone down to your place,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, I like it up here better,” I told him.

Kris looked at me for a minute, and I knew thoughts were running through his mind. “Why?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with your place?” he asked, and I froze in place, trying to figure out once again what to say to him.

“I just like yours better,” I told him. He looked at me, almost as if he was going to try to argue with me, knowing I was lying, but he let it go, walking into the living room, turning on the television.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked me as I plopped down on the couch.

“Do you even have to ask?” I asked him with a smirk, grabbing the controller from him and turning it to the CSI three-hour marathon that was on every night at this time. I saw Kris playfully roll his eyes at me, and I turned to look at him. “What?” I questioned.

“I just find it funny that you spend your whole work day around crimes, and then you come home to watch a tv show about it that all you do while watching it is yell at the tv, saying that everything on the show that they’re doing is wrong!” he explained, and I couldn’t help laughing as I realized how ridiculous it really sounded when he put it that way.

“Yeah, I’m a little weird,” I shrugged my shoulders. “But you love me anyways,” I added with a cheesy smile.

“That I do,” Kris agreed before standing up to put the pizza in the oven.

An hour later, we were in our same positions on the couch, the paper plates we used for our pizza forgotten on the coffee table in front of us, while I continued to yell at the television screen, just as Kris had spoken about earlier. “No!” I whined. “You wouldn’t be able to do that!” I cried.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kris said, grabbing the remote and turning the channel to a hockey game. “I can’t handle listening to you complaining about every single detail on the show anymore. CSIs should not watch shows about CSIs.”

“Well if you’re using that logic,” I began, snatching the controller from him. “Then hockey players shouldn’t watch hockey games,” I smirked, changing the channel.

“That’s ridiculous!” he exclaimed.

“How is it any different than what you just told me about CSI?” I questioned.

“Because the entire time you’re watching CSI, you’re complaining about how they’re not portraying it correctly.”

“And, the entire time you’re watching hockey games, you’re yelling about how the person should have passed the puck sooner or the goalie should have been back in the net more,” I countered, knowing I had just won the argument with that statement.

“But,” he began, but then he stopped, knowing he had nothing else to say that could help his argument.

“That’s what I thought,” I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest and turning the channel back to CSI.

As soon as the third episode of CSI began, I could feel my eyelids getting heavy, and I realized just how tired I was. I hadn’t had too grueling of a day, but I was still exhausted. It was probably because I hadn’t been sleeping well in my condo since the break-in. I rested my head on Kris’s shoulder, and he looked down at me. “Long day?” he asked, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer to him.

“Not really,” I replied. “I’m just tired,” I said, allowing my eyelids to shut for a few moments.

“Do you want to head back to your place and get some sleep?” he asked me.

“Can I just stay here for the night?” I asked, not opening my eyes.

“Of course. What time do you need to get up for work tomorrow?” he asked.

“I have to be there at nine tomorrow morning,” I mumbled.

“I’ll set the alarm,” he promised, kissing the top of my head as I drifted off into sleep.