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“On the Edge Diner. My friend is with me, and we’re in trouble. I need you. Please,” I plead.
Tears sting my eyes. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to Azriel.
He hangs up, and I stand in front of Azriel.
“What are you doing, Melody?” Zack asks.
Azriel gets closer and whispers, “I got it, Melody. Take my keys and get back in my truck. If anything happens, you drive down the road and call the cops.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I assert, looking at them defiantly.
I feel like I’m in one of those movies where the bullies surround the new kid to beat him up.
“You think this is funny?” I challenge.
"Yeah, we think it's hilarious," one of them retorts, arrogance dripping from his words. "Your little boyfriend here thought he could step on Zack and us."
“Zack came to our table, not the other way around,” I counter, desperation creeping into my voice as I assess the daunting physical disparity between Azriel and them. These guys are built for the gridiron—broad shoulders with muscular builds. Despite his own physical capabilities, Azriel is outnumbered and outmatched. The reality of the situation is a heavy weight on my chest—it's five against one.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the tension: "Catch the game tonight?"
They all look up and step back.
“Shit,” Zack mouths.
The other three guys give each other hurried glances that spell, Let’s get the fuck out of here.
I turn to see Valen approaching, his presence like a beacon in the darkness. Clad in black, from his jeans to his sweater, he moves with purpose, his wallet chain swaying with each step.
“What’s up, man?” one of the guys says, recognition flickering in his eyes.
“Nothing,” Valen replies casually, but he makes a point not to look directly at me. “I came to get a bite to eat and saw you guys out here.” He looks at Zack. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Let’s go,” Azriel says softly.
I don’t think twice, walk briskly to the truck, and get inside. They know Valen, and that's one of the reasons I don’t trust him, but his showing up as soon as I called means a lot right now. I think it means he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.
As we drive away, the silence between us is heavy. I don’t know what to say. You were great. Thanks for coming. I’m sorry my ex-boyfriend and hisropyteammates wanted to kick your ass for being around me.
"I'm sorry... for everything that happened back there." I finally break the silence, my voice barely above a whisper.
“That wasn’t your fault.”
What bothers me is that he didn’t ask about Valen or who he was. Does he know who he is? Kenyan is an old town with an even older school that is the center of it all. He grew up here and knows Mr. Crosby, so I’m sure he knows who Valen is.
These people have wealth and control. It’s probably why he didn’t ask or hesitate to get the hell out of there. He’s probably afraid of him too.
"It feels like it is," I confess, the guilt casting a constant shadow. "I should have considered the possibility of running into him... I just didn't think."
Azriel's insight cuts deeper than I expected. "He's not over you—that much is clear," he observes, reading the situation with an acuity that surprises me.
His words are a balm and a reminder of the complexities of human emotions—of Zack's twisted version of love, of my own traumas, and of the invisible scars that dictate my every interaction and my every fear.
I snort. “Love is a strong word. It's more like he wants to make me pay for getting him kicked off the team his freshman year and most of his sophomore year.”
“He’s older?”
“Yeah, he graduated a year before me. We dated in high school and snuck around after my parents caught him in my room one night.” I pause. “He cheated on me, or I thought he did, at the initiation party with some random girl.” I shake my head. “He doesn’t love me, Azriel. He wants to hurt me.”
