“What’s next?” He inches his body away from mine, and I feel cold. But also free.
“Then you went off the rails and stormed away.” My voice becomes small all of a sudden.
“And you?”
"I wanted to call an ambulance because he was in really bad shape. Like really bad. I was so scared he was going to die." I choke on the memory. I grew up in a bad place and saw a lot of fights, but I’d never seen that level of brutality firsthand, delivered by the man I idolized for so long.
“And what did you do?” He pushes his pelvis back into me, forcing my brain into mush.
“Mark didn’t want an ambulance, so I wanted to help him to his house. So I got him up, and we started walking.” I take a deep, shuddering breath, reliving the emotions of that night.
“Walking? Why the hell would you walk if his car was there?” His tone was laced with befuddlement.
"I can't drive stick. Like at all. And he could barely breathe, let alone drive." I chew on my lip, I might sound ridiculous to him, but Mark and I were far safer walking than with me driving a manual car.
“That must have been at least a three-mile walk.” He says, and I’m unsure whether his tone is from surprise or suspicion.
“Mark’s friend was driving by and picked him up a little after.” I shrug, accidentally brushing his chest with my shoulder.
“What happened to you after?” There’s a new edge in his voice.
"I went home," I answer, like what else would I do?
“Did they drive you?”
“No.”
“Why?” His tone turns threatening, and I want to laugh.
“As you pointed out, I live alone. Nobody knows where I live. At the time, I had just moved, and not a single soul knew I was here. Even now, only three people know. Which brings me to the question of the century: how did you find me?”
His body goes rigid, and he takes another step back. I turn around and look at him.
“Did you call the cops, Kayla?” His face is blank, and his eyes are completely focused on mine.
“I did not.” I say with an equal stare.
His next breath's shuddering and loud, like it's the last one he'll ever take. "I assume that guy didn’t either.” A half question, and I shake my head. He exhales loudly. “A couple hours before that, Alicia had called me and said she was at some party in Springfield. I didn’t trust those sorority boys she was with, so I just wanted to go and check on her.” I’m speechless—he was sharing something with me. Scared to lose the moment, I don’t move or breathe. “I was at a party myself.” He rakes a hand through his hair—a tell that he’s nervous. “I went to look for Ashley ‘cause we came together, and I found her under that Mark guy. I didn’t know his name back then but knew that he came with tr—” he cuts himself off.
“Trailer trash?” I offer helpfully, and he flinches.
“He had company there. When she saw me, she started crying and yelling, telling him to stop. I thought he was raping her, so I threw him off. I landed a few punches before his… friends," he spits out the word, "came barreling in. They threw me out of the house. Ashley left with me, of course.”
“Of course.” I make sure the sarcasm drips off my words, and he winces.
“Yeah, I didn’t have all the details then.”
“And yet, it doesn’t seem to stop you from forming an opinion.” I bite my tongue, preventing the remaining venom from spilling out. The first sign of regret inforeverappears on his face.
“I was on the way to the party when I saw a car tailing us.” His voice sounds dejected. “I recognized that guy.”
“Mark,” I offer. “You should say the name of the guy you almost killed.”
“Mark. He wanted to talk. Clearly.” He sighs. “There was that abandoned gas station, so I pulled in.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “You know the rest. Then, when we left…” He takes a deep breath, preparing himself, “Alicia called because she thought her drink got spiked, so I sped up. Suddenly, cop lights lit up behind me, pulling me over. I thought it was for speeding at first, but it turned out they already knew about the fight and were arresting me for assault. I begged them to let me go, or at least to let me go check on my sister, but they didn’t. And the most fucked up thing is that they weren't Little Hope cops; they were Springfield ones. They didn’t listen to me.” He leans on the counter, and it’s the first time I notice how absurd he looks in my space. Everything here is small, cheap, and very-veryworn out. Me included. And Justin is big, intimidating, and rich by local measurements. He doesn’t fit in here. I was an idiot for even considering the possibility of something between us. First, he’d never look at somebody like me. He might like ‘em all different shapes, but he definitely has a type: the definition of femininity; they are well-groomed and very traditional. They’d never mark their perfect skin with ink or inappropriate piercings. They’re also usually very wealthy. Well, most of them are, anyways. And I barely survive here, living from paycheck to paycheck.
And more than anything, he onlysleepswith them (sleeps…right, but you catch my drift). And then he goes about his business. At least, that’s the rumor. He doesn’t date, not since Ashley a few years ago, though I still don’t know when their relationship ended. Well, according to her, they’re still dating and very much in love. And if it ever comes tothat—sleeping, that’s it— (in some alternate reality), I don’t think just sleeping with this man, who’s been invading my dreams for years and years, will be enough for me.
And to think, just a week ago, I decided to move on and get laid. Yep, sure. Still got cobwebs down there.
