"I'll show you something."
No. No he fucking did not just say that.
Red.
I see fucking red.
A strong hand stops me from raising my arm, fist clenched.
"I think that's enough," Mateo's deep voice says, stepping between me and James. He releases me but doesn't move. His face is stone, the look unsettling.
"Fucking move," I say through gritted teeth. "He deserves what's coming to him."
"Yeah, asshole, move," James says.
Mateo remains a wall between us, his eyes on mine.
"He's not worth it," he says, his voice is neutral, soft, and comforting. A large contrast to the way he stands so tall, clenching his jaw.
"Douchebag, this is a private conversation," James says.
"It stopped being private when you cornered a woman in a public place," Mateo says, turning to face James. "I suggest you move, and let the lady pass, before it gets worse for you."
"What are you gonna do about it?"
"For starters, I'll let her kick your sorry ass." Mateo chuckles, his shoulders shaking. "That would make for a great video. Man, it would kill your cred with these ass wipes, wouldn't it?"
James scoffs. "That bitch can't hurt me."
"Want to fucking bet?" I yell, stepping outside Mateo's shadow. "One more fucking word, James, and I swear to fucking God."
Mateo doesn't give James a chance to respond. He grabs my hand, again putting himself between me and James and guides me through the three men.
"Not worth it, Storm Cloud," he whispers.
He doesn't let go until we're in the parking lot.
"What the hell, Mateo?" I say when we're both in the car.
"Thanks, Mateo, for stopping me from being on the evening news," he says starting the car and shifting it into drive.
"I had it fucking handled. I don't need saving."
"I saved you from yourself."
"Fuck you," I cross my arms and stare out the passenger window.
Mateo sighs and pulls into traffic.
I turn up the music, loud and angry. Fuck men. Fuck them all.
I'm still fired up fifteen minutes later when Mateo pulls into a parking spot at a grocery store.
I don't say a word, and neither does he. He tosses his key fob in the cupholder and climbs out.
Saving me from myself. Fucking asshole.
I flip through my playlist, skipping songs that don't match my mood. By the time Mateo pops the hatch, I'm lost in Linkin Park's lyrics.
