by V McFarlane
I try to stand but wince when the pain zips down my legs.
“Are you okay?” He’s in my face now and I have no choice but to look at him.
Oh, he’s handsome, no handsome isn’t generous enough. A jaw that’s so sharp it could cut, with hollows beneath high cheekbones, and a dusting of dark, days old stubble. His eyes are steel grey, the colour matching the sky but brighter. He’s wearing a hat, but I can only assume his hair is as dark as that stubble, probably, thick, glossy…
He’s talking…shit.
“Sorry what?” I tear my gaze from his face, rolling my lips.
“Did you hit your head?”
I wonder if he can sing. That voice is made for singing. I bet it goes right through you, settles in your bones, in your soul.
“Hello?” He’s waving a calloused hand in front of my face.
“Right,” I jerk my head side to side, did I hit my head? That would explain why I can’t think about anything other than how beautiful this stranger is. I could write a song about it, about how those eyes are deep, endless, but so bright they burn you. I could croon about how they are a direct contrast to the darkness of him, his hair, the olive tone of his skin. “I don’t think I hit my head.”
To check, I finger the back of my head, there’s no sore spots so I think we’re good. Gritting my teeth, I push to my feet, trying and failing to hide my grimace as my muscles twinge and scream their reluctance at moving.
Suddenly there’s a hand on my arm, pulling me up and steadying me.
“What were you doing walking out in the middle of the road like that?” He demands, letting me go and settling his hands on his hips, eyeing me from beneath hooded lids.
“Sorry,” I press a hand to my lower back and arch my spine, trying to stretch out the tightness there, “I got distracted.”
He scrubs a hand across his mouth, “Distracted, huh? You could say that.”
I wince, “Sorry.”
I look passed him. The car is idling but looks okay, no dents or scratches so he didn’t hit anything to avoid me. Looks like he stopped just in time actually.
I let out a breath, “I’m good. You can go.”
His dark brows knit together, “You went down hard, sure you don’t want to go get checked out?”
I shake my head and lean forward, settling my hands on my thighs. I’ll probably have a few bruises, aching muscles but that’s all, no broken bones, no bumped heads. “I’m good.”
The back of my jeans are wet, the icy water has seeped through to the underlayers and then further to the backs of my thighs. I’ll have to head straight home. Being wet in this kind of cold will only lead to frost bite, or so my mother used to tell me.
“Sorry again,” I look behind me. I recognise where I am, it’s hard to get lost in a town you’ve lived in your entire life. It’ll take a good hour or so to walk back, maybe longer with the way my muscles are aching. I definitely pulled something when I fell.
I turn away from the stranger and step back onto the pavement, picking up my earphones to plug them back in.
“Wait!” He calls behind me. My hand pauses halfway to my ear.
“Let me give you a ride home, you’re wet and it’s cold.”
I laugh, “I’m fine, honest, it’s not too far.” I lie.
“Why do I have a feeling you're lying?” He narrows his eyes, cocking a dark smudge of an eyebrow. God, even that’s sexy!
I turn back towards him, my own brow raised. Was this a challenge? “I’m not. And we’re strangers. I don’t get into cars with strange men.”
He laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, deep and the grin on his face can only be described as boyish with a dash of charming.
“I’m Jared Reinhard, and you are?”
“Violet Walker.”
“Violet as in the colour?”
“As in the flower.” I correct. There’s a long story to this, one that I’m not about to go into.
“Well now we’re not strangers, hop on in, flower and I’ll give you a ride home.”
I should probably feel nervous as I follow him back to the car. My survival instincts should be telling me that just because he’s pretty with a soothing voice doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep an axe in that trunk just to cut up girls like me. But that instinct, yeah, it’s silent right now and my body is a willing participant as I slide my aching self into the passenger seat.
If I die, tell my family that I love them!
