CHAPTER VII
Asking For Help
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I watched the scene in front of me with dread. It wasn't until Nellie screamed I was able to slowly come back to reality.
"What the fuck!" She screeched in fury but didn't move a muscle, probably frightened he would shoot if she moved.
Shakily, I twisted my head to see Myles looking at Nellie stonily. Almost if he was having an out of body experience.
"That's Nellie. You... you met her at the bar, remember?"
He didn't make an effort to move, so I hesitantly brought my hand on his wrist and sighed in relief when I felt his muscles relaxing. When he jerked the gun to his lap and turned on the safety, I dumbly whispered, "You have a gun?"
More rigid than ever, he yanked my touch off him before throwing himself off the bed. My mouth fell in surprise when he grabbed his belongings and stomped toward the exit—which Nellie jumped away from.
The house was eerily silent until the door slammed closed seconds later, making us both flinch.
I pinched my eyes shut, just as Nellie hissed, "What the hell was that about, Allie?"
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The library was so quiet that as I shuffled my way to the exit, anyone could hear the faintest creek of the panelled floors. Every sound made me cringe, knowing that it would bring unwanted attention.
Granted, I was one of the last few people in the library, with it being eleven at night. The library closes at midnight, and most people left hours ago. Unfortunately for me, I had articles to submit for the school's newspaper, and a term paper to write.
Ever since finishing class at six, I'd been working. While I am happy I got most of my work done, I was ravenous. But that could be because I decided to starve myself until I finished. It would be like a reward.
The thought of class reminded me of Nellie's cold shoulder. We both took a news reporting class from twelve-to-three, and normally our walk to campus never had a quiet moment. But after what happened with Myles Tuesday night, she's been avoiding me. After admitting that I didn't know he had a gun, Nellie went from frightened to disappointed mom mode.
"You've talked to this guy for a month, Althea. How could you not know he owns a gun. Hell, he not only owns it, he carries it on him! He brought it to our house!"
She was upset, and she had every right to be.
And... I was upset, too. If I had to admit it, I had been scared for a fleeting minute. Scared of him or for him, I didn't know.
I haven't spoken to him since then, nor has he tried to contact me and try to explain his reasoning. One for carrying a gun, and two, that his first instinct was to pull it out when he heard a noise.
This experience should finalize how much Myles is not my type. We're complete opposites. Not only in personality, but now that he has a gun, while I hate the idea of them.
Remembering why I hate them made my thoughts darken, but thankfully, my stomach growled and reminded me that I was hungry.
The moment I strode outside, I shivered when a blast of cold wind crushed into me. I hastily zipped my thin jacket all the way to my neck and stuffed my hands into my pockets before waddling across the street. Even though I welcomed the chill most days, I hated how much that changed when my ears weren't covered. Even with long hair, it failed to protect me from the frigid air.
Spotting a sandwich shop a few stores away from me, I quickened my pace—until I heard a familiar, gruff voice bite out my name. "Althea!"
I came to an abrupt pause when I heard feet pounding against the sidewalk from behind. Not a moment later, Myles came to a stop in front of me, heaving angrily while his small, darkened eyes wandered over me. I couldn't help but do the same to him.
Myles appeared the exact same since I last saw him—which wasn't surprising and yet, I didn't know what I expected. For him to grow a whole freaking beard in the two days we haven't talked?
Something close to fear had me nervously treading backward when I realized the last time I saw him, it was with a gun pointing at my friend's chest. I know he didn't do it intentionally, but I couldn't help but feel anxious around someone who's first instinct is to pull out a gun the moment they're faced with something—or someone—unfamiliar to them.
His eyes flashed with anger when he saw me rocking back. "Are you scared of me?"
Despite looking angry, he sounded almost... disappointment.
"No," I choked out before clearing my throat. I wrapped my arms around me when a strong gust of wind blew toward me. "I'm just a jumpy person. I jump around."
He stared at me plainly, recognizing my obvious lie. But instead of calling me out, he clenched his jaw before shoving a hand into his jacket pocket. I watched with furrowed brows as he took out a grey... is that a toque hat?
My jaw dropped, and before I realized what was happening, Myles' arms stretched out. He didn't ask my permission before tugging the hat onto my head. I felt his fingers hover close to my ear, almost as if he was making sure they were covered before he pulled himself back.
Absently, I touched my head. "Why—"
"I have a hat, you don't," he stated harshly. "I can see your ears getting red from here. You can give it back to me later."
I nodded but couldn't help but eye him suspiciously.
"You weren't home."
For a moment, I blinked. Then blinked again. Weren't. How would he know that unless—
"Did you go to my house?" I demanded.
Despite witnessing my apparent anger, Myles' face remained blank. "You ignored my last two messages. We need to talk."
"Messages? I didn't get any messages." He arched a brow, almost challengingly. With an huff, I slid my bag off my shoulders. I held onto the handle and aimlessly reached inside until I felt my fingers grazing the phone. I pulled it out and... yeah, he texted me thirty minutes ago.
"I wasn't ignoring you," I admitted sheepishly while sliding my arms through the straps. I lifted my eyes to his and saw him already watching me. "I was at the library, so my phone was off."
My eyes lingered over his expression before asking slowly, "What did you want to talk about?"
With a slight cock of his head, he studied me. "You don't like guns." He said this matter-of-factly.
"No, I love them. I dance around them in my free time, praising the God's for the wondrous gift that is guns. I just love weapons of mass destruction." He didn't find my sarcasm funny, so I dropped my tight smile and sighed. "Myles, I... I grew up Detroit. And I grew up watching the news. Hearing them list all the gun violence in the city? I witnessed someone getting shot in front of me, Myles. In a convenience store. He looked like he was my age."
"You know how people say sometimes time goes by in slow motion when you're in front of danger? They're right. I've never been so scared for my life that day. He survived, and still, all I remember is the gun going off. The body falling to the ground. Blood... blood everywhere. So, yeah. I really, really don't like guns."
I hadn't realized his face softened until I gasped for air I desperately needed. "I keep a gun on me because I grew up in a shitty area. The second I was old enough, I got a license. So I'd never be unprotected again. I'm not sorry for having a gun, princess. But I am sorry that I scared you enough to make you stop asking your millions of questions."
Kicking non-existent rocks under my feet, I lowered my head and mumbled, "I don't ask a million questions."
He responded with silence, but I knew he was smirking.
"Not million, princess. Millions."
Shooting my gaze to his, I narrowed my eyes. "You're mean."
"Never denied that."
I rolled my eyes and fought a smile before recalling what he'd said. That was enough to make me purse my lips together. "Are you okay?" I asked softly before reiterating, "I mean, you said you never wanted to be unprotected again. Did you get hurt?"
He gave me tense smile. "Nothing for you to think about, princess. It's in the past."
"Just because something is in the past doesn't mean it's not important," I pointed out before asking again, "Seriously, Myles. Do you want to talk about it?"
This time he didn't smile. "I'll walk you home."
"You don't have to—" He strode past me, in the direction of my place.
Not wanting to challenge his stubbornness, I sighed and spun around before breaking into a light jog. I caught up to him a second later. "Did you go to my house because you missed me?" I chirped, deciding to lighten the mood.
Myles' nose scrunched in disgust, like the thought of him displaying any positive feeling was enough to induce vomit.
"Where would you get that ridiculous idea?"
"It's called reading between the lines," I joked before moving my head forward. I felt his gaze burning on the side of my face. "You texted me, and when I didn't reply, you came over."
"Because I don't like being ignored."
"Ah, yes. Because you like to do the ignoring."
He didn't confirm nor deny that.
"It's okay, I won't tell anyone if you're worried you'll lose your street cred."
He snorted in disbelief. "Street cred?"
"I don't know... don't tattoo artists want to appear all cool and stuff? Granted, I've never met one besides you, but I think you'd be a horrible example on how tattoo artists act. You don't even colour in the things you make! You are an anomaly. Wait, is that the right word? I think it is. You're unique. There. You know what, if I get a tattoo, I'll go to someone and get back to you on that whole attitude thing. I know they say three is a pattern, but I think two is one too, right? God, I should not be a scientist or whoever does labs. Validity and reliability? What's that? I don't know."
Realizing that I'd been talking non-stop for over a minute, my face contorted as if I was in physical pain. I had to stop myself from slapping myself in the face. "I told you to shut me up when I ramble," I cried out.
"Five dollars in the question jar," he hummed in amusement.
"We're not actually doing that!"
For the next few minutes, we went back and forth on the pros and cons on having a question jar. While he had at least five benefits, I had zero. So, when I offered a cuss jar for him, that's when he went silent.
"Uh-huh. That's what I thought," I said smugly.
"You're goddamn fucking mouth," he grumbled roughly.
I grinned. "I already have fifteen dollars."
His feet were pounding a little harder on the sidewalk. I tried to stifle my chuckle at the obvious sign of his displeasure, but I must have failed because a second later, he was glaring at me. I didn't cower. Instead, my eyes drifted toward the hair he had pulled back in a low bun.
"Don't your ears get cold too?" I started to reach for the hat I'm wearing. "You should take this ba—"
"If I wanted to wear the hat, I would have worn the hat. Keep it."
At that moment, we reached the end of the strip. When we turned right, my eyes dropped to the driveway coming in view, and I couldn't help but remember Friday, when he came by and walked to the club with me. Then my thoughts wandered to the realization I had later that night...
My steps faltered, and I nearly fell on the pavement until a strong arm wrapped itself around my waist, hoisting me back on my feet. "Jesus fucking Christ, princess. If you keep this up, you're gonna fall."
"If I fall on grass I'll be fine." I grinned as he let me go with a shake of his head. "I was just thinking that maybe you should help me with my list. Become a more active member, if you get what I'm saying."
Maybe my lack of filter was a good thing, because I got to witness the utter horror painted on Myles' expression. He almost tripped before he unfortunately caught himself. I would have felt embarrassed for my brassiness, if I wasn't struggling to hold back my laughter.
Slowly, he stopped walking and twisted his body, so he was completely facing me.
"I'm already helping you," he stated gruffly, almost slowly, as if he was trying to play dumb.
I nodded quickly. "Yes, but now I want you to fuck me."
Again, he looked so horrified that I didn't feel the need to hit myself in self-disgust. I struggled to stop myself from grinning because I never thought my bluntness would be useful, let alone not humiliating. But here I am, making Myles—only-has-five-emotions Myles—use every bit of his facial muscles.
He shook his head, hastily wiping away his expression. "You're sleep deprived. Go sleep."
"It's a good idea—"
He laughed darkly and lowered his chin, so shadows eclipsed his features. "It is not a good idea, princess."
I crossed my arms and raised my brows, only to feel them brush against the hat. "Well, I disagree. I've been thinking about this since Friday," his head shot back in surprise, but I continued, "and normally friends-with-benefits never work out. But we don't have history that would stop us. We've known each other for a month! You're always talking about being safe, not going to a sex club, blah, blah, blah—"
He glared. "You still want to go to a fucking sex club? I told you—"
"Yes, I know! It's dangerous. But I know you. At least well enough that I can trust you with this. Tell me why it wouldn't be a good idea."
He rubbed his face with evident frustration. "Jesus fucking Christ." Once he lowered his hand, he gave me a dead stare. "You aren't a casual type of woman, princess. You need romance. Seriousness. For fucks sake, you watch Disney movies for fun. I can't give you that."
"I'm asking you to fuck me, batman. Not go on one knee and propose." I frowned. "What, do you think I'll magically fall in love with you? You aren't really my type."
"But I'm your type to fuck?" He smirked before quickly sobering. "I don't do fluff."
"Then don't do it." I smiled and shrugged faintly. "And do you want me to call you pretty, Myles? You are very pretty."
My confession seemed to silence him. His mouth opened and closed for a few seconds while his eyes lingered over me. I couldn't help but wonder if he's ever been complimented.
"You're clearly not seeing why this isn't a good deal," he gritted.
I frowned. "It's not a big deal."
He laughed humorlessly before taking a step forward. I inhaled sharply when he got rid of most of the space between us—enough that I caught a whiff of a scent that seemed to follow him; cedarwood.
"Not a big deal?" His voice lowered dangerously while keeping eye contact with me. "I have a very low self-control, princess. Do you really wanna poke this bear?"
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. His gaze lowered and watched while I slowly swallowed, trying to figure out what to say. He actually managed to silence me.
Suddenly wanting to defend him, I unfastened my mouth to speak, but I was quickly cut off by the sound of laughter coming somewhere behind me. Myles was first to shoot his gaze off mine, and when I saw him glare, I frowned and followed where his attention laid.
A group of three guys seemed to round the corner onto the street, but instead of walking any further, they remained next to the crosswalk. The streetlights let me see how their heads turned in our direction, but one guy with blonde hair wore a smirk. When our eyes met, it widened before he turned to his friends and laughed at whatever they said.
Behind me, I felt Myles stiffening.
"What's so fucking funny, donkey?"
I choked on saliva.
Did Myles just call one of them a donkey?
I think I was so shocked that I didn't realize Myles stepped around me until his back was blocking my sight. Still, I could hear some of them snickering. I swiftly moved to stand next to Myles, the same moment two brunettes stumbled next to their blond friend. I realized then that they were probably drunk.
"Myles, let's go," I mumbled under my breath. When he didn't even try to move, I wrapped my fingers around his bicep and gently tugged him back. His feet remained in place.
The blond guy took a uneven step forward. I noticed that they never stopped looking at each other. Am I third wheeling, or is someone going to throw a fist?
"You speak English? ¿O tengo que hablarte como un idiota?"
My eyes rounded. Myles spoke Spanish?
Even though he never turned his face to me, I studied the side of his expression. The tan skin and angular features that made every part of his face defined and sharp. I glanced at his thick, nearly black hair and wondered what it would look like outside of the confines of the bun. I knew his eyes were small and downturned despite them being off me. Even though this answered one of my thousands of questions about Myles, another million questions sprouted.
Wait... did I not even know his last name?
I was ready to slap myself in the face, but that screeched to a halt when I heard Myles gritting next to me, "What the fuck did you just say?"
I pushed my head back in surprise by his lethal tone. He sounded like he was struggling to contain his temper.
The blond man must have not noticed this as he laughed in disbelief. "Bro, the pussy can't be that good. Relax."
He barely finished his sentence before Myles strode forward. By the time I opened my mouth to stop him, he already reached the three guys and either punched their face or kicked the back of their legs. I watched, jaw on the floor, as the drunk men collapsed before trying to get up.
Myles snarled when one of them tried to grab his leg and bring him down. They barely moved him an inch before Myles kicked them in the face.
I internally gagged when I saw blood coming out of his nose. Thankfully, I managed to unlatch myself from my spot before running toward him.
"Myles!" I hissed and grabbed his hand this time, with my nails digging into his flesh to snap him out of whatever came over him. "Enough. We're going."
He didn't budge, so I turned back to him and glared. "Either we leave now, or the next hit you throw, I'll move in front." I was bluffing, but Myles didn't call me out.
Even though his eyes still flared with blood thirst, he followed me the short distance back home. Once I was sure he wouldn't run back to the guys, I let go of his hand and unlocked the door with a clenched jaw.
Opening the door wider, I flicked on the lights and let Myles welcome himself in while I took off my shoes and stomped to the kitchen. Valerie's car wasn't in the driveway, and Nellie would be working late for her internship, so I knew we had the place to ourselves, free to talk however loud we wanted.
Yet, I remained silent and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards while simultaneously ignoring Myles loud footfalls.
I exhaled when I opened the bottom right cupboard and found what I was looking for.
Once I stood upright, I spun on my heel but stopped short when I saw Myles watching me by the edge of the peninsula. Now able to see him under good lighting, I noticed some strands beginning to crowd the front of his face. His eyes still seemed wild, but when they fell on me, he stretched out his chest as he breathed in sharply.
When I said nothing, his jaw bobbed in frustration. "Still wanna sleep with me, princess?"
My mouth unfurled. "Is that why you did that?" I almost screeched before slamming the first aid kit on the counter. "Are you trying to prove a freaking point?!"
"I'm not proving a point. This is who I am," he grounded through his teeth angrily. "You just like seeing everything in fucking rainbows and butterflies."
"That is not true!"
He laughed harshly. "You trust me, princess. That's the stupidest thing you could ever do."
"Why? Because you like to paint yourself as a bad guy?" I gestured to him in anger before throwing my arms up. "You're doing such a great job. Do want a freaking academy award?"
"What's wrong with me trusting you with this? You've given me no reason not to to trust you. Until right now." I grumbled the last part to myself as I lowered my head to the ground, but I heard Myles roughly sucking his breath.
Neither of us spoke, so I moved around the peninsula and sidestepped him before dragging the first aid kit on the counter, in front of the bar stool. Myles followed my silent instructions and sat down while I went back inside the kitchen to grab a kitchen towel and our cheap vodka.
When I stopped in front of him again, I heatedly snapped the lid off before pouring a decent amount onto the cloth. I will admit to grabbing Myles hand a little to roughly before dropping the cloth on his cut knuckles.
His snarled, "Fuck."
Fuck you, I wanted to say, but I didn't have the strength to. Because despite him trying to portray himself as a villain, I hated that it wouldn't work. I hated that I couldn't hate him because I knew that despite his short temper, he was good. He helped me when I was a stranger. The least I could do was help him as a friend. Even if he was a total asshole.
I felt his eyes on me the entire time I was cleaning his hands. At one point, I saw his chin lowering, as if he was trying to catch my eyes, but I adamantly avoided him. I feared that if he gave me a single look, I'd lose my composure.
Once I finished wrapping the gauze around his knuckles—again a little tighter than necessary—in the corner of my eye, I saw him slowly sagging.
"I'm sorry," he grumbled, almost reluctantly. My hands froze as I was about to secure the gauze. I kept my eyes narrowed on his hands before slowly continuing what I was doing.
He exhaled loudly. "Stop that."
"Stop what?"
When he didn't reply, I forced my head up and met his waiting gaze. His eyes blazed when he saw my blank expression. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
His palpable frustration almost made me smile. My questions annoyed him, and yet, he didn't call me out as he explained, "Like you don't like me."
For some reason, that broke my heart and made me smile at the same time. "Do you want me to like you?"
Myles' face contorted in disgust as his nose flared. "Not like that."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Damn, tell me how you really feel."
For the first time since he sat down, I saw his muscles relaxing. Once the gauze was secured, I moved back and packed everything back into the plastic, blue briefcase.
He didn't immediately jump off the stool, so after a few seconds, I gingerly asked, "Why did you start that fight?"
I turned my head to see a dark shadow clouding his expression. "I'm an asshole. That's who I am." He paused and quickly snapped his eyes over my face before he clenched his jaw and looked away. "Plus, they shouldn't talk to you like that. They had it coming."
For a moment, all I did was watch him with conflicting emotions. In the years I've known Remi, and the two years we dated, he never defended me. That could be because he believed I could stand up for myself, but it was also because he was the least confrontation person I've ever met. I never knew what it felt like to be defended—but was he right? I didn't like the idea of Myles getting himself hurt because of me, but at the same time, he cared enough to defend me.
Teasingly, I said, "It sounds like you like me, batman."
He glared at his feet and pursed his lip, almost as if he was bitter about that fact. "You're tolerable."
"Tolerable?" I gasped mockingly. "I'm hurt."
"It's your questions, princess. And your never-ending optimism. It's disgusting."
I rocked back and laughed. "Disgusting? You're such a grump."
He looked at me and said nothing before his focus flickered to my head. I touched the top, only to realize I was still wearing his hat.
"Here," I said, handing it to him. "Thanks for that. I'm sorry if you got cold without it."
"I told you, princess. Cold doesn't affect me."
"Why not?" I finally got to ask. "Did you grow up somewhere in Canada? Like way up North?"
Just like that, his expression completely closed off, ridding me from seeing any emotion from him. I started to frown and demand why the change in mood when he shot up from the stool and took long strides to the entrance.
Without turning to me, he called out, "Thanks for the hand, princess. Gotta go."
"Myles," I called out, but he never stopped moving. Not when he got his feet into his shoes, and not when he went through the door.
Still keeping his back to me, he coolly said, "Don't open the door for strangers," before closing the door behind him.
I had to pick my jaw off the floor. Was this dude being serious?
Scrunching my nose, I dramatically mimicked, "Don't open the door for stranger," while tossing the garbage out. He pretended like he didn't just act like a stranger.
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happy Friday loves! Tomorrow
is my writing day so I'm EXTRA
happy ;)
I hope everyone is enjoying the
story so far, I hope you like Myles
and Althea as much as I do <3