by C. L. Stone
I cut my way between two women walking babies in strollers together. One of the best things about being a girl is to be able to weave around and through areas and be excused, even if it was rude. Guys can’t get away with that, not in South Carolina. Any other guy passing by would chase them, which I was kind of hoping would happen.
Unfortunately, they didn’t take that risk, but were stuck lolling behind the strollers, which was almost as good.
I took a turn down another corridor, finding a wide courtyard with a center fountain. I spotted a guy by himself on his cell phone, standing in the corner. He had short cropped, sun-kissed blond hair. Tall, maybe even taller than my target, wearing a black t-shirt with a Zelda Triforce logo from the video game. Nerdling.
I stepped up next to him and wove an arm around his, which was hard to do, because now that I stood next to him, I realized he really was towering over me. “Sorry. Can I borrow you for a second?"
The guy choked on whatever he was about to say into the phone and fixed his eyes on me. They were a very nice cerulean blue. His face was a touch unshaven, almost unnoticeable with his blond hair. His skin had a gorgeous tan as if he’d spent a lot of time outside. "What ... uh ... Can I help you?" he asked.
The smile sliced right through me, catching me off guard with the sincerity. His voice was strong and appealing, with a hint of amusement. “Yes,” I said when I pulled myself together. “Could you pretend I’m your girlfriend for a minute?”
The skin at the crest of his high cheekbones tinted. “Any particular reason?”
“An ex-boyfriend and his buddy just spotted me. I wanted to get away before they try to corner me, or at least dissuade him from coming over. He’s not a good guy.”
“Oh?” he asked, tapping at his cell phone and dropping it into his pocket. “He’s not a big guy, I hope.”
I liked him. He was quick and willing to play along. If I hadn’t been in panic mode, I would have kissed him. “Can we just go into a shop and pretend to make out or something?”
“Sure,” he said with a hint at a smile, like he didn’t believe I really meant the making out part. He pointed at the closest store. “How about that one?”
“Perfect,” I rattled off, without actually looking at where he had pointed. We just needed to get going.
I followed him inside a Love Culture store. I couldn’t spot anyone tailing us, which was good, but I wanted to make sure. If they were still trying to find me, I wanted to be out of view for a bit. I’d backtrack and find an exit when I was sure they had passed us by.
I clung to the nerdling’s bicep, surprised to feel a bulge of muscle. He had a fit body underneath his t-shirt and corduroy slacks. I noted the confident way he carried himself into the store, and how eager to please he seemed to be. Nerdlings weren’t usually my type. They were usually Yes Men—you could tell them to jump a cliff and they’d do it and beg for another order just to make you happy. Some girls liked that, but I hated it.
But I tried not to presume based on looks.
He headed toward the back, and picked a spot behind one of the clearance racks. He nudged me beside him, so we were both hidden from the front of the store. “How’s this?” he asked, a blond eyebrow going up.
I nodded, and then stopped short when I realized we were in a section of bras and ladies’ underwear.
He caught where my attention was going and studied the displays. His cheeks tinted again. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just ... didn’t mean ...”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. I wanted to make him comfortable since he was being such a good sport about the situation. “I hadn’t noticed either.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Bambi,” I said, going with my initial lie. I wasn’t sure why I did it. I was just sure I wouldn’t see him again. A shame, but really, it was for the best. I wasn’t his type, or anyone’s type, for that matter.
“I’m Corey,” he said, oblivious to the fact that I’d just lied. That brought back some confidence. I wasn’t that horrible at lying.
He held out a hand, and looked expectantly at me.
I took it quickly, shaking it and hoping he didn’t notice me rattling from leftover panic. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”
“Not a problem. I wasn’t in a hurry.” He tilted his head, focusing on my face. “Did you try telling him to back off?”
“Who?”
“Your ex-boyfriend. The one we’re hiding from.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yes. He doesn’t listen very well.”
His eyes flicked up as if checking to see if anyone was paying attention. He returned his focus on me and smiled sympathetically. “And I’m sorry.”
He seemed so sincere about his apology that I had no idea what he was saying it for. Because of the place he picked out? “I said it was fine.”
“Not that,” he said. “I mean ...” and he angled his head to indicate I should look behind me.
I turned, surprised to see pretzel boy leaning against the wall. His bicep muscle bulged as he put his weight on his hand. His smile played on his lips as he cocked his head toward me. “Hey there, pretty girl.”
I tumbled backward in a panic, flat into the rack of bras. A space between the top and base of the rack allowed for an escape. I weaved through quickly to the other side. I stumbled forward and shot between two sales racks and hauled it to the exit.
My target in the red jacket had parked himself by the entryway. He weaved, his arm outstretched to catch me by the elbow. I diverted, turned and ducked out of range. He probably wasn’t expecting me to get away from his pals.
This time I didn’t stop for any more games. I was going to find an exit and run home. Mall security must have caught on to me.
I had to cut through two more crowds before I found the entrance to a small service hallway. I launched myself between a hand-holding couple and made a dash for the hallway.
I started to slow when someone from the other end of the service hall came out of a side door. I combed my fingers through my hair, away from my eyes, to try to look presentable, like a tired employee going home.
As we closed in on each other, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. He looked almost exactly like the nerdling, except his clothes were different, wearing a red t-shirt depicting the local college football team, jeans and Nike sneakers. He also carried himself differently, with a swagger. It was like the nerdling had managed to get all cool in a blink.
I slowed, staring, sure I was going crazy.
The guy, once he caught my eye, stared right back at me. His head tilted, a curious smile played on the side of his mouth. When we got close, he slowed. “Hi.”
“No time,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “Have to get home.” I turned my body sideways to squeeze by him.
His hand shot out toward the wall, right next to my head, blocking my path His blue eyes focused on me.
These were different than the nerdling’s too. Same blue shade, but dimmer. Sad. Wounded. Embedded so deep inside him that it seemed overwhelming and I wanted to tell him I was deeply sorry for whatever hurt caused his otherwise incredibly handsome face to look so down.
Those eyes stilled my lips as well as my legs. His gaze seemed to penetrate through me, right to my core, begging me to find what was lost in him, wanting to fix him, so the smile on his lips actually reached his soul.
“You don’t have to run,” he said in a tone that was soft, deep, and suggested deeper meaning.
The sound of a door crashing open behind me told me otherwise. “I have to ...” I said. I inched to move under his arm.
His arm slid down, until his fist was against the wall, at my chest height. His eyes were still sad, but he masked them somehow with a teasing glint. “Stop it, sweet pea. You aren’t in trouble. Yet.”
My eyes widened at him. I turned my head, catching pretzel boy, my target, and Corey, the nerdling coming down the hall.
My panicked heart was unrelenting agains
t my rib cage. Despite what the cool guy was saying, this was clearly a security team, obvious in the confident way they approached me. Pretzel boy had taken the lead over the other two following him. His mismatched eyes zeroed in on me, the smile on his lips smug, satisfied. He’d caught his prey.
But I had one more last trick. A dirty girl trick.
“Rape!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The entire group of boys stopped dead, except Corey, who jumped a short step back.
I took my chance. I ducked under the cool guy’s arm.
“Wait,” pretzel boy called. “Bambi!”
I didn’t stop. I felt the brush of the cool guy’s fingers swiping at my back, but he wasn’t fast enough. I darted down the hall toward the exit.
An alarm didn’t sound. I was out in the parking lot and weaved amid the cars. Losing my breath. Losing my mind. Losing the boys.
For now.
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ABOUT C. L. STONE
Certification
Marvelour of Wonder
Active Participant of Scary Situations
Official Member of F.A.M.E.
Experience
Spent an extraordinary number of years with absolutely no control over the capping of imagination, fun, and curiosity. Willingly takes part in impossible problems only to come up with the most ludicrous solution. Due to unfortunate circumstances, will no longer experience feeling on a small spot on my left calf.
Skills
Secret Keeper | Occasion Riser | Barefoot Walker | Magic Maker | Restless Reckless | Gravity Defiant | Fairy Tale Reader | Story Maker-Upper | Amusingly Baffled | Comprehensive Curiousness | Usually Unbelievable
