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“You guys, we’renotdoing that,” I finally manage to say, but neither looks at me. Their sole focus is on the man in front of them. They don’t even notice the people watching this all unfold with morbid fascination. I get it. I totally do. It’s weirdly hot and sickening and scary.
I cannot look away.
“Or we could put his hands in the shredder for touching what doesn’t belong to him,” Sem suggests, like they’re talking about their favorite video game. “Never done that either. Would probably hurt.”
“Um. No. Nope,” I say sternly and then grab onto Sem, forcing him to look at me. “Sem. We’re not doing anything of the sort. No one is getting pressed or shredded, not even dickbag here. We’re leaving.”
Luke looks disappointed for a second and then sighs, “You sure?”
“Yeah. I am. He’s not worth it.”
“Okay. Whatever you want, tiny.”
He moves to wash his hands, and people slide out of his way. Sem grabs onto my hand and presses a drawn-out kiss to my forehead. He rubs his thumb over my cheek and then turns, squatting down to make sure he meets the man’s eyes. “Hope you learned a lesson, asshole. You keep your filthy hands to yourself and those ugly words inside. Now apologize to him.”
The man shoots me an angry glare and seems to be considering not doing it, but then he manages to grumble, “Sorry.”
“Louder,” Sem shouts, and I jump slightly.
The man swallows nervously, licking his lips, and shouts, “Sorry.”
Satisfied with that, Sem stands up and strides over to me, scooping me up. He tucks me into his chest as he moves out of the bathroom. He strides past the onlookers, not even waiting for his brother or cousin. People stare at us as we pass, but I don’t care. I tuck my face into his neck and let them look. They can think whatever they want.
I don’t care.
When we get to his truck, he sets me gently inside and closes the door softly. He moves around to the driver’s side, but he doesn’t get in. I see his chest heaving and then a loud crash rocks the cab. I glance up to see Sem clenching his fist, his knuckles cracked.
“Oh my god,” I breathe as he roars and punches the door again.
He runs his bloody hand through his hair, his body trembling. His eyes are wild as he tugs on his hair and paces outside the truck for a few minutes.
I take a deep breath, tuck my hands under my thighs, and wait. Because what else do I do in this situation? It’s obvious he needs space. A few moments to process it all.
“Sem?” I breathe when he finally gets in the truck. I crawl over to him and straddle his thighs. I reach up and gently touch his face. “What did you do? Why’d you do that?”
He clenches his good fist and grits out, “Why the fuck do you think…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You know what? I’m going to go back in there and murder him.”
He moves to exit the vehicle, but I squeeze him to me.
“No, no, you aren’t. He’s not worth it. And I’m fine. Look at me, I’m okay. I’m used to it…sort of. It’s fine.”
He grabs onto my chin roughly and forces me to look at him. “It’s not fine. Don’t ever think that. None of that was fine.”
My eyes sting, filling with tears, and I press a soft kiss to his mouth. But he doesn’t kiss me back; he sits there completely stiff until I move off of him with a resigned sigh.
When I’m buckled up, he revs the truck engine and peels out of the parking lot. I grab onto his thigh to keep my balance, but he doesn’t tuck me into his side like he usually does. He grips onto the steering wheel tightly as he maneuvers the streets and freeways home.
I gently touch the bloody hand resting on his lap. “You need ice for this.”
“I’m fine.”
It doesn’t look fine, but what do I know? I’ve never punched a car before. But it seems like it hurts. Could it be broken?
When we finally make it back to my apartment, Sem’s still vibrating with anger. He tries to carry me up the stairs, but I refuse because of his injured hand. Instead, I walk with him to the door and open it with shaking fingers. I turn around when I’m finally inside, expecting to see Sem right behind me, but he’s not. He’s standing in the doorway, his fists clenched by his sides, his chest rising and falling.
“Sem, what…what are you doing? Come in. Please. You need to ice your hand. You’re hurt.”
He shakes his head, some of his hair falling across his cheeks. “No. I need to go.”
