Whenever You Remember

Chapter 17

He laughed and continued up the stairs. "I figured that much."

There was a pause.

"You know, even though now I know I was drunk, it is still your fault I hurt myself."

Will chuckled, "Yeah I figured that too."

***** Four Hours Earlier *****

Footsteps. A lot of footsteps. And the pounding of my heart in my ears. That was all I was hearing.

"Shit, do you think they know we're—" I began to ask, but I was rudely interrupted when Will clamped his hand over my mouth. I waited impatiently for him to pry it off, but he didn't. Instead, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me to him so that my back was against his chest. Then he crouched down behind the dumpster with me in his arms.

After about ten seconds, he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Stay quiet. Can you do that?" I could practically feel the smirk radiating off him, despite our troublesome situation.

I nodded in response to Will. I sure as heck didn't want those UFC fighters to catch up to us. Who knows what they would do if they got their hands on me or Will.

Did I forget to mention? Will somehow managed to piss off a herd – not one, but seven – of slightly drunk UFC fighters at the bar we were at.

On a different note, we also managed to provoke some newlyweds. Personally, I think they overreacted. I mean, sure, we caught their cake on fire, and the bottom of the bride's dress (I did feel pretty bad about that, but it was a wretched dress that looked better after the burn) yet I'd like to point out it's not my fault they used real candles everywhere. Those things are a hazard, especially wherever pyromaniacs lurk. I'll admit, though, that in hindsight, maybe Will and I shouldn't have crashed a wedding at The Plaza just for the sake of cake.

But back to the story of how we signed our death wish and gave it to UFC fighters.

Apparently we had been sitting in their booth. Will and I didn't want to move at first, but then when four of them casually mentioned they were UFC champions, we slyly got up to leave. However, when one of the guys (the biggest one, I might add) went to take a seat, Will 'accidentally' kicked out his chair from under him and the guy collapsed onto the floor. He looked like an idiot, and I let out a huge laugh.

My laugh quickly dissipated when the guy looked at us with rage that I haven't seen since my mom picked me up from the sheriff's office after junior prom. Yes, the guy was that furious. His steaming glare almost put us eight feet under right then and there.

It took Will approximate .5 seconds to say "aw shit" and then about another .7 seconds for him to say "run Soph!"

I feel like the rest of the story is pretty self-explanatory, which brings me to now. Sitting in a dark alley behind a dumpster, secured and locked in by Will. I wasn't complaining about the last part, though. He was warm and safe, and his heartbeat helped me feel comforted. Plus, the whole night had been like this, and I was liking it. Maybe too much. It was freaking me out to the point where I almost stopped enjoying the moment.

I realized Will's hand was still covering my mouth, so I yanked it off and whisper yelled, "Do you mind?!" Which caused him to promptly put his hand back on.

He exhaled quietly. "God you still don't know when to shut up," he joked and I elbowed him in the ribs.

I pulled it away again, and this time I lowered my voice even more. "Do we just sit here and—"

Ugh again with covering my mouth! I'm actually talking quietly!

The footsteps again. But closer. And voices.