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I spin around wondering where he went. He somehow, very quickly and stealthily, got across the street to where the man who catcalled me is parked.
Terror reaches inside the vehicle, grips the back of the man’s head, and slams his face hard down onto the steering wheel, twice. With each hit, the horn honks and I just stare in shock.
Okay, Terror beating someone up isn’t funny, but the honking thing makes me chuckle. Terror is yelling something at him, and the horn honks once more when he slams his face one last time.
Terror points a finger at me and curls his finger like he is wanting me to come over.
What do I do? I take my ass over there because this is the first time in my life a man has stood up for me.
It may be a little extreme, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I move to stand next to Terror whose hand is still buried in the man’s hair. My first thought is we need to disinfect his hand because God, this man smells.
The man, whose face is pouring blood from his nose, smiles at me and I try not to cringe because of the blood inside his mouth and his blackened, rotten teeth.
“What did I tell you to do?” Terror reminds him in a sinister voice. My stomach drops at the tone because holy shit that’s terrifying.
The guy in the truck looks like he is seconds away from shitting his pants. I suck in my bottom lip and watch the interaction between the two.
He looks at me and then at Terror. I can see the panic on his face when he is looking at him.
“Please forgive me for the way I disrespected you, ma’am.” Terror nods at him like he is asking him to continue. “I have learned my lesson and will treat all women better than this going forward.” He side-eyes Terror.
“Andddd,” Terror drawls it out and the man flinches. He opens the door and gets down on his hands and knees in front of me. “I am not worthy to look at you, will you forgive me?” He kisses the top of my dirty shoes.
I look at Terror in shock, but he is looking like he is having the time of his life. “Queen Meghan,” the guy mutters under his breath and I can’t hold in my laughter anymore.
I should be running in the opposite direction with the violence I just witnessed but I can’t bring myself to be scared of him, not when he went to this length to protect my honor.
Terror joins in my laughter. “Let’s get out of here?” I ask and step over the guy’s head that is still at my feet.
Terror takes my hand and moves me in front of him, so he is closer to the guy on the ground. I don’t even look back as we walk back across the street and I get on the back of Terror’s bike with him in front of me.
“Hang on, darlin’.”
And I do. You couldn’t tear the smile off my face if you tried. I’m almost saddened at the idea of leaving this date. It’s been a lot of fun even if I had to fight myself on my insecurities and he put me in my place about it.
I have done therapy but sometimes your intrusive thoughts get the better of you; self-love is something that I seriously need to work on.
I can't fight the urge to lean forward and rest my chin on his shoulder so I can see the night sky in front of me. We are out in the countryside on our way back to the diner.
His hand at one point moves from the handlebar, and moves to rest on the back of my calf. I get a shiver down my spine and it’s not from the cold.
The ride is too short as I see the diner looming in front of us. He stops the bike, and the lights are off on the inside because everyone has gone home.
I sigh in the helmet knowing he can’t hear me. My heart feels like it’s pounding out my chest. Does he want to come up? Does he expect to come up? Is he going to want to kiss me?
He holds out his hand to help me off the bike, and I get off much easier this time around.
I pull the helmet off and shake my hair out of the loose bun I had it in. “Thank you for the date, Terror. I had a great time.” And I did.
He smiles at me, lifts his hand, and pushes my hair gently behind my ear. “It was my pleasure, sweet girl.”
The way he is speaking to me is so different from the sinister tone he had with the man earlier.
I smile and lean my face into his touch, his hand still resting on the side of my face.
He climbs off the bike. “I will walk you up to your apartment,” he says to me and takes my hand, pulling me into his side. I fight the urge to lean over onto his chest and breathe in his scent.
