The Knight in Leather Armor

ch. 1 Day and Knight

~10 years later~

Dented red cups littered the liquor-stained carpet. Girls with smudged lipstick and smeared mascara teetered.  Boys with torn jeans and hair greased as stiff as the bulge in their pants swayed.  

I had that eerie feeling, the one where you think someone is watching you. I wrapped my arms around myself, looking from left to right to up and down, trying to avoid touching anyone, or worse—being touched. 

I searched the room for my friend Becky, who had dragged me along to this stupid party. I hadn’t even seen the birthday boy yet. Louis something was his name and he was turning 20. What was I doing at a frat party?

I had asked Danny about this party—  just like he makes me do for most everything else—  and he practically bellowed out a “no,” along with a list of the worst things that could happen to me. So, I decided to come.

“Wanna drink, sweetie?” slurred a voice from close behind my ear. He smelled of a terrible concoction of Whiskey and cigarettes.

“No,” I answered and started to pass him.

I felt a hand brush up under my dress and I turned around to see the boy— more like man. 

I slapped him in the face and tried to run past him, but he grabbed my wrist and pinned me against the wall.

“Better yet, let me have a drink,” he winked and began planting wet, slobbery kisses on my neck and chest. He ground his hips against mine and a bulge in his pants made me squeal in disgust and fear.

"Get off me!" I shouted, but my voice was barely a whisper compared to the blaring music.

“Oh, come on, I’m the birthday boy,” the man winked, teetering as he tried to steady himself. 

I kneed him in the groin. He staggered back, holding his crotch. I took the split second to escape.

My head began to spin with the music blasting away at my ear drums mixing with the noise and clatter of shouting. I grew dizzy looking for Becky. Where on God’s green earth was she?

I looked around for the crazy, half-brained blonde with sinfully long lashes and deep brown eyes, but everyone was paired up.  I started separating couples, whose tongues were so entwined I couldn’t tell whose was whose. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jerked away.

“Hey, Angie, it’s just me,” greeted a familiar soft voice.

I turned around to see tiny crinkles by warm honey-brown eyes. 

“Oh, hey, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I apologized, thinking back to the man who tried to feel me up.

“So what are you doing here?” I asked Liam. Liam wasn’t the kind of boy who went to these parties. And I wasn’t the type of girl, either. And yet here we are.

Liam looked down at his drink before looking back at me.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he smiled. The soft, warm glow in his eyes always made me feel safe. Liam was different. He lacked that mystery, that shady quality to his eyes that most men with darker intentsion had. Then again, Liam was from Eastland, where the only trouble was what color sweater to wear to the golf tournaments on Sunday afternoons. Even so, Liam wasn’t snobby about his wealth or his parents’ esteemed estate, unlike the birthday boy at this party.  

“Becky,” I answered as if that was all that needed to be said.

Liam nodded in understanding. He knew Becky all too well. She used to flirt with him shamelessly and he bought her all kinds of things.

“So I haven’t seen you around lately. Do you work after school, now?” Liam asked innocently.  

“Yeah. I’m at my uncle’s restaurant most days,” I answered dryly. I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I really needed to find Becky.

I kept looking over Liam’s shoulder for Becky. Liam noticed me doing this and turned around himself.

“Are you looking for someone?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Liam, I just have to find Becky,” I apologized. It was rude of me to be ignoring him, but I had to find Becky. She was my ride home.

“No problem. I’ll see you around," he smiled optimistically. "Hopefully," he added.

I prayed Becky hadn’t hooked up with anyone at this party. She had a habit of going from boy to boy, or sometimes college boy to married man to boy. I hated being the one to pick up the pieces every time they cheated on her or when she cheated on them and then they broke up with her.

Danny always tells me Becky is a bad influence, but it’s not like he has a very good taste in friends. I thought about Danny’s friend Harry and how he always managed to get into a fight and had dropped out of school two years ago, even though he was a few months shy of graduating with Danny.

Harry always seemed to be on the run, whether it was from his father, or the cops. But, Harry had always been loyal to Danny and the rest of their buds: Tony, Zayn, and Niall. I was sort of the dead weight in the group, but Danny would rather throw himself in front of train tracks than to let me wander our kind of neighborhood unprotected. Tony, Zayn, and Niall never had a problem with me, but it was always Harry who took it as a personal burden whenever Danny made one of them escort me places. Yes, my neighborhood is dangerous and sketchy, but Harry is just as dangerous and sketchy. Harry is—

Low and behold, my gaze fell upon twin dark forest-green eyes. They were hard and cold like marbles, like globes you desperately wanted to discover, but you didn't because you were afraid he would see your world, too.

His lips were scarlette, like blood. As he walked, his ivory-white skin glistened with sweat, like porcelain darkened by an impending shadow. 

Harry recognized me, but the expression on his face was not of happiness and neither was mine.

“Angela?” he half-asked, half-shouted.

His tall, lean figure stood out from the crowd of tipsy bodies as he started shoving past people to get to me.

I turned around and began slipping through the crowd behind me, trying to find a hiding spot. If Harry got a hold of me, he would drag me out of here and rat me out to Danny. I damn well wanted to leave this hell hole, but never with Harry. Not over my dead body.

“Angela!” I heard him shout, but the music was drowning out his deep, raspy voice. 

I made it out of the living room and kitchen-both rooms of which looked so trashed that I could hardly tell one from the other. Then, I turned around to see where Harry was, but I didn’t see him in the crowd. 

Leaning outside the back door, I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’ll forget he even saw me. After all, there were dozens of faces in that house and he probably was at least half-drunk and won’t remember a thing when he wakes up tomorrow morning.