Read Online The Love Letters: A Novella by Ashley Pullo - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ashley Pullo
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“Zach, your flattery needs some work.”
Shrugging my shoulders and snorting I say, “Sorry, ma femme, I’ve been with dudes for too long.”
Natalie picks at her salad and lowers her head. “Tell me what it’s like,” she whispers.
Furrowing my brows and shaking my head, I reply, “No way, Nat. This is our Christmas Fun Day – I don’t want to bore you with the details of the past few months.”
Her face serious, she adds, “Zach, I want to hear your voice. I will never grow bored of hearing your voice. Tell me a story about Germany.”
I take a swig of my beer and then wipe my mouth with a paper towel. Pulling Natalie into my arms inside our tiny booth, I rest my chin on her head. “Oktoberfest was a trip. Alcohol and schnitzel and bar fights. Seriously, it was exactly like that scene in European Vacation . And the village girls fucking love American Marines.”
“Oh, really?” Natalie shifts her head to look up at my face. “Like Heidi?”
I pinch her side and reply, “Ah, merde , ma femme! We’re not discussing meaningless sex. Deal?”
“Fine. Continuez sans Alpine sluts.”
“October was pretty good, boring, but okay. Basic weaponry instruction and fitness classes. Apparently, the terrain in Afghanistan is fucked up.”
Natalie runs her hand over my bicep and flutters her eyes. “You’re so buff. And pretty. I bet all the boys fancied you in the showers.”
I flex my arm and let out a shallow grunt. “Maybe that’s why every guy in my camp was getting assigned a mission – they were jealous of my body.” My smile fades as I continue. “But not me. I woke up every morning, made my bed, and reported for duty – day after day – until it was November. That was when things started to suck.”
I quickly pick up my beer to hide my anger. It was stupid of me to make Natalie feel uncomfortable. But she just looks at me, tears watering her blue eyes, and smiles.
“Fuck November,” she whispers.
“Yep. Fuck it. December is definitely better,” I add.
“I bet Germany is a winter wonderland in December!”
“It’s beautiful. The snow looks like untouched powdered-sugar, not like that brown shit that lingers on the streets here.”
Nodding her head, Nat asks, “What’s with that? There’s a mound of dirty snow on the corner of Broadway and Worth that has pizza boxes and coffee cups sprouting from it.”
“You need to see Europe in the winter.”
Pushing her plate across the table and throwing her paper towel in the mix, Natalie says, “Oh yeah? Convince me.”
“Well, there were roosters that roamed the countryside, shrilling before the sun made its appearance.”
“Why the fuck would I want to spend a holiday with chickens?”
Placing my finger on her mouth, I whisper, “Shh, ma femme, listen.”
“Go on.”
“I awoke every morning to the sound of life. It was repetition, but sometimes that sound was comforting – knowing that life goes on with or without me.” Natalie flinches slightly so I add, “Farmers brought our camp fresh eggs and slabs of bacon, and the mess hall served some of the best coffee. And you know what I realized?”
“What?”
“The best part . . . of waking up . . . was Folgers in my cup.”
“Ha ha,” Nat deadpans, jabbing my side with her elbow.
I smile, happy that she finds familiarity in my goofiness, and confirming that our love exists beyond our stories.
Regaining composure over my dark thoughts, I add, “Oh shit, I forgot that you won’t get my Krampus letter for a few more days – I even sent you a picture.”
“What the hell is Krampus?”
“Nat, it’s totally up your twisted alley. Men were dressed in costumes as the evil demon of Christmas, Krampus. Parents actually brought their kids to the village parades to scare the shit out of them – can you believe that?”
“That’s insane!”
“I have never drank so much in one night – and I may have pissed my pants.”
“That’s disgusting – please tell
Shrugging my shoulders and snorting I say, “Sorry, ma femme, I’ve been with dudes for too long.”
Natalie picks at her salad and lowers her head. “Tell me what it’s like,” she whispers.
Furrowing my brows and shaking my head, I reply, “No way, Nat. This is our Christmas Fun Day – I don’t want to bore you with the details of the past few months.”
Her face serious, she adds, “Zach, I want to hear your voice. I will never grow bored of hearing your voice. Tell me a story about Germany.”
I take a swig of my beer and then wipe my mouth with a paper towel. Pulling Natalie into my arms inside our tiny booth, I rest my chin on her head. “Oktoberfest was a trip. Alcohol and schnitzel and bar fights. Seriously, it was exactly like that scene in European Vacation . And the village girls fucking love American Marines.”
“Oh, really?” Natalie shifts her head to look up at my face. “Like Heidi?”
I pinch her side and reply, “Ah, merde , ma femme! We’re not discussing meaningless sex. Deal?”
“Fine. Continuez sans Alpine sluts.”
“October was pretty good, boring, but okay. Basic weaponry instruction and fitness classes. Apparently, the terrain in Afghanistan is fucked up.”
Natalie runs her hand over my bicep and flutters her eyes. “You’re so buff. And pretty. I bet all the boys fancied you in the showers.”
I flex my arm and let out a shallow grunt. “Maybe that’s why every guy in my camp was getting assigned a mission – they were jealous of my body.” My smile fades as I continue. “But not me. I woke up every morning, made my bed, and reported for duty – day after day – until it was November. That was when things started to suck.”
I quickly pick up my beer to hide my anger. It was stupid of me to make Natalie feel uncomfortable. But she just looks at me, tears watering her blue eyes, and smiles.
“Fuck November,” she whispers.
“Yep. Fuck it. December is definitely better,” I add.
“I bet Germany is a winter wonderland in December!”
“It’s beautiful. The snow looks like untouched powdered-sugar, not like that brown shit that lingers on the streets here.”
Nodding her head, Nat asks, “What’s with that? There’s a mound of dirty snow on the corner of Broadway and Worth that has pizza boxes and coffee cups sprouting from it.”
“You need to see Europe in the winter.”
Pushing her plate across the table and throwing her paper towel in the mix, Natalie says, “Oh yeah? Convince me.”
“Well, there were roosters that roamed the countryside, shrilling before the sun made its appearance.”
“Why the fuck would I want to spend a holiday with chickens?”
Placing my finger on her mouth, I whisper, “Shh, ma femme, listen.”
“Go on.”
“I awoke every morning to the sound of life. It was repetition, but sometimes that sound was comforting – knowing that life goes on with or without me.” Natalie flinches slightly so I add, “Farmers brought our camp fresh eggs and slabs of bacon, and the mess hall served some of the best coffee. And you know what I realized?”
“What?”
“The best part . . . of waking up . . . was Folgers in my cup.”
“Ha ha,” Nat deadpans, jabbing my side with her elbow.
I smile, happy that she finds familiarity in my goofiness, and confirming that our love exists beyond our stories.
Regaining composure over my dark thoughts, I add, “Oh shit, I forgot that you won’t get my Krampus letter for a few more days – I even sent you a picture.”
“What the hell is Krampus?”
“Nat, it’s totally up your twisted alley. Men were dressed in costumes as the evil demon of Christmas, Krampus. Parents actually brought their kids to the village parades to scare the shit out of them – can you believe that?”
“That’s insane!”
“I have never drank so much in one night – and I may have pissed my pants.”
“That’s disgusting – please tell
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