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"Will you give me your name now?" he asks.
"Juliet," I tell him stiffly.
"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"
I don't respond. He's dangerous, and not just because he's a stranger. His combination of charm and wickedly good looks is not something I want to deal with right now.
I pause before answering, deciding that I'll have him drop me off at the Walmart down the street from my dilapidated apartment, so he won't know where I live. I may have gotten into a limo with the hottie stranger, but I'm not going to be entirely stupid.
I rattle off the address and he seems to give me a knowing look before pressing a button and telling the driver, assumedly through a speaker, where we are going.
"Why did you come to the diner?" I finally ask, after a long silence where the only sound is the rain hitting the roof of the limo.
"I grew up around here," he says, gesturing to the run-down neighborhood full of dilapidated houses we are passing through.
I look at the clearly expensively tailored suit he is wearing and gesture at him quizzically.
He laughs, a deep rumbling laugh that makes me warm inside despite my best intentions.
"It's true. Those were my buddies from high school I was eating with. We meet at random restaurants in the area once a month just to catch up. We all made it out of this place, but it keeps us humble to have a monthly reminder of where we came from."
"Hmmm," I say non-committedly. He just winks at me in return.
We sit in silence until the limo gets to the Walmart parking lot that sits at the address I gave him. He looks out the window.
"I'm not leaving you here," he says firmly.
"I'm not letting you see where I live," I toss back at him in just as stern of a tone. "After all, you did wait for me outside of the diner for hours. That definitely qualifies you for scary stalker status."
He flashes me the first real smile I've seen on him and my heart involuntarily flutters. Stupid, traitorous heart.
"Does it lessen the stalker status if I tell you I went back to work until the time your friend said you would be getting off?" he asks.
I pretend to think about it.
"No, not at all," I tell him, opening the door out into the pouring rain before he can stop me.
Much to my dismay, or delight if I'm being truthful, he gets out behind me.
"I'll walk you then," he yells over the pounding rain.
I'm sure I look like a drowned cat by this point.
"Why are you here?" I finally ask, dismayed.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I clearly don't want anything to do with you. Why are you being so persistent? Is this some kind of game?"
He looks at me for a moment before answering.
"I've never seen someone so sad before," he says. "Something about you made it so that I couldn't leave you alone."
For some reason I'm crying. I'm grateful for the rain and the dark night because at least my tears won't be obvious to this infuriating stranger. Infuriating because I feel a pull towards him. A pull I am determined to avoid at all costs. I'm barely hanging on as it is. I'm literally always one step away from not being able to come back from the sorrow that is my constant companion. I won't survive one more time. I don't even know how I'm still standing right now.
"Please," I tell him, my voice choked with tears. "Leave me alone. There's no good ending to this story for either of us."
"You need a friend," he said. "I can be that for you. I won't ask for anything else."
