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VERA
Iwoke up to the quiet, one-sided conversation outside. Sean said something about a security system, and more cameras. He was just working while I slept into the early evening if the angle of the sun glowing on the tent was any indication.
I unzipped the tent and poked my head out. Sean hung up and put the phone away.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, I just got off the phone with my friend Mince. He's one of the guys I started the security company with. Anyway, we might have a new job to set up a security system at a mall, but we need someone with a prettier face than Mince's to talk to the owner."
"So, you're going to have to hire an actor?"
He smirked at me. "I was telling you earlier what a pretty smile you have, and this is how you repay me?"
"Fine. You're not too ugly. Does that mean we have to cut the trip short?"
"No. We have a few more people working with us, so it's taken care of." He walked over to me and offered me his hand to help me climb all the way out of the tent.
I pulled out my phone. "Let me get a picture of you. This is our vacation, remember?"
He smiled, put his arm around me, and as I snapped a few pictures, he nuzzled my neck. My breath hitched, and I shrunk away.
Damn it. I had thought I was good at pretending to be strong. When would I get a handle on myself?
"Sorry.” He dropped his hand.
“It’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He scratched his neck, staring at his feet. “I could teach you how to fight, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
He petted the beach chair, then sat in the other one. “My dad used to beat me pretty bad when I was a kid. It messed with my head. No matter what the reality was, I kept feeling like I could be that terrified kid with a dislocated shoulder, unable to do anything to stop the pain. Joining the Army helped. That and finding a few good friends were the only good things I got from my service.” He shrugged. “It helps to know you can defend yourself, so you don’t have to always be afraid.”
“Is that why you have Glen do MMA?” I asked.
Sean nodded. “I would’ve taught him myself, but I didn’t want to make him feel like I wanted to get a few punches in myself after everything Dad put him through. He’ll never learn properly without sparring.”
“And punching me won’t be a problem?” I asked.
“I won’t punch you.” He pointed at his wrist. “Grab me.”
I stared at his hand, knowing that if I touched it, he would do something. Probably throw me over his shoulder or something equally unpleasant. The damn voice in the back of my head insisted I should do it, anyway. It’s not as if I deserved any better, and how much could it really hurt?
“I promise, it’ll be fine,” he said.
“Okay.” I gently put my hand over his wrist.
“Come on, squeeze it like you mean it. Make sure I can’t get away.”
For what? So he could throw me harder?
I did as he told me. With a twist and a pull, he freed his hand. And I was still sitting upright in my beach chair. So, maybe I had worried over nothing.
“I can show you how to do things like this. And then maybe we can work up to something more advanced,” Sean said.
“Alright.” It was worth a try.
Sean showed me his wrist again, with a red mark where my fingers had squeezed. “Grab me again.”
