I had no idea if it actually looked as elaborate as it sounded; I was too busy trying to get the hell out of there. But behind me, I heard the loud crash of one door banging into another. If the two other guys weren’t mad before, they definitely sounded mad now as curses floated from the direction of the crashing. As usual, I was creating a mess.
I swear to God if he’s not outside.
I ran through the bar, dodging trays and pool sticks and even bigger bikers with bigger scowls on their faces. I ducked around waitresses and pretended like I didn’t see the quizzically suspicious stares I was getting from people behind the bar. The getaway was all very movie montage. If there was a soundtrack to my escape, it would probably be the circus song because that’s what this felt like.
But it was almost over. Thankfully I could see the exit up ahead.
It took three more seconds before I was finally pushing through the front doors, gulping sweet, crisp air and darting my eyes around the street in search of his car.
For a second I thought he actually wasn’t here and I was going to have to run for it. And for that entire second I was irrationally angry, thinking maybe he’d chosen his date over me. That was until I spotted the sleek black SUV parked just a few steps past the bar, idling quietly. I ran to it, yanking the door open, and collapsing into the dark leather seats.
“What the—”
“Drive,” I cut him off before whipping my head around and looking out the back window. The men hadjustmade it out of the bar and were now looking both ways to try to find me. I ducked down lower into my seat and peeked up to find a dark face frowning at me. Quizzical black eyebrows raised in question. Temper as short as I was snapped, “Todayplease.”
With a frown, he put the car in gear and took off from the curb. I didn’t have to tell him where to go. As if on autopilot, he started in the direction of my apartment which was thankfully miles away from my siblings’ apartments, lest they tried to pop in unannounced for any reason. I couldn’t have that. Not when my time was split between either sleeping over this guy’s place near the beach or him sleeping in my spare bedroom in the city. Definitely not when our families had no idea we were even friends.
As he drove, I tossed my head back against the headrest and panted, trying to catch my breath. I could feel beads of sweat trickling down my back and the tingling rush of danger ticking at my senses. But I also felt this special kind of safety I only got when I was right here next to this guy. My guy. My best friend.
With a whooshing breath I tried to distract myself. “So, how was your date?”
His answer was a startled cough. After clearing his throat he slid a glance over to me and answered in that deep, quiet voice, “Uh, good.”
“Had to be,” I said, flicking my eyes to the rearview mirror and then back at him. “If you’re out this late at least.”
“I’m out way later with you all the time,” he protested.
“Being in my apartment and beingoutare two entirely different things,” I said. Another glance in the mirror.
This time he followed my eyes and took a long quiet look through the mirror himself before peering over at me. “Are you gonna explain any of this?”
“Um,” I thought about it for a second. We weren’t too far from the bar. Plenty of time for him to become angry enough to turn the car around and pay Mick’s Motorcycle Club a visit. We didn’t want that. “In a little bit, let’s just drive for a while, yeah?”
He said nothing else, but I knew he agreed when he passed the turn we needed to get to my apartment.
I spent five minutes of the drive watching the rearview mirror, both terrified that those crazy guys would follow me and sort of insulted when they didn’t. I guess I wasn’t worth a high-speed chase. That was really disappointing considering I'd risked my ass for that getaway. I probably would have cared a lot more if my sudden spike of adrenaline hadn’t faded and the pain in my hand hadn’t begun to intensify right at that very moment.
I hissed at the sharpness of it and used my good hand to click on the light. Quietly, I held it up for inspection. It was starting to bruise already, a nasty purple and blue color running its way up my wrist, midway through my hand, and down to my two middle fingers. Red bloomed around the bruises, and apart from the injury, color had begun to seep from the hand like it was running down a drain.
Tires screeched as the car yanked across the road and pulled to the side of the curb. With a jolt, the car was thrown into park and my body was thrown with it. I’d forgotten to put my seatbelt on.
But before I could go soaring face first into the dash, a strong arm slid across my torso, banding right there across my boobs like it was totally normal. He didn’t think twice about the contact. He was too busy unbuckling his own seatbelt and turning toward me with his big shoulders and even bigger hands as they took mine in his and pulled my injury toward him.
Russet brown skin contrasted starkly against my yellowish-brown complexion. Big, long fingers contrasted even more with my small ones. I tried not to wince as he used those fingers to press gently around my hand, applying pressure in different areas along my fingers and down to my wrist.
I failed.
“Ow, Ferguson! That hurts like a bitch!” I wailed.
“What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I tried. This just earned me a look. “I fell, okay? Stop pressing like that—Ow!”
“We’re going to the emergency room,” he said.
“Can’t you just set it or something?”
A thick, dark eyebrow lifted up at me, “Do Ilooklike a doctor to you?”
