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“Are you kidding, Mia? I’m freaking out, that’s what I’m doing. My girlfriend tells me that she has almost been killed, twice, and then says she’ll call me later! What the hell, I’m worried sick, Mia!!”Girlfriend, holy hell.
“Look, I’m sorry, Jack, there’s been a lot going on and I am overwhelmed. I should have called earlier to explain, but in all fairness I was in the hospital, all my things have been stolen, and my cell was dead.”
Before I can finish, Jack yells, “Hospital? Dear God, Mia. What the fuck happened to you?!”
I guess I should have introduced that better. As I go about explaining, he relaxes on the phone and angry boyfriend (seriously?) turns back into worried boyfriend.
“What hotel are you at? I’m coming and don’t give me any excuses. I need to be with you now.” I can tell there isn’t any hint of negotiation here, so I relent.
“Okay, it’s room 3606.”
“Be there in fifteen.”
We both hang up.
I knock on Alex’s door but she doesn’t answer, so I let myself in anyway because I don’t want her to be afraid if she wakes up and hears a guy’s voice in the room. It isn’t likely she’ll wake up, she was clearly in the beginning stages of a drug-induced state. I can’t really blame her after the night we had.
“Alex,” I gently shake her shoulder. “Alex, Jack is coming over. Okay?”
She opens her eyes ever so slightly and nods, then rolls over and puts a pillow over her head.
I hurry back to my room, to freshen up. For what reason, I’m not sure. I don’t really know what to expect. I originally gave in to his charm because I thought that if I didn’t agree to a date he might never leave me alone. Jack is persistent in a way that is a cross between endearing and irritating, but he hasn’t pushed any further into my life than I am willing to share. He’s been happy to watch movies and cuddle. Since last year, I haven’t had in it me to let anyone get too physically close. I was a healthy sexually active adult before, not a slut, but not a prude. I was confident as a woman and I enjoyed sex. Enjoyed (past tense) being the operative word.
In one horrible, disgusting, theft of a moment, my self-esteem along with my body were ripped to pieces and I can’t seem to recover.
I was proud that I looked my attacker in the eye and acknowledged his crimes. I held my head high. I didn’t look like a victim, I appeared strong. But what good is it all, if I can still feel the bruises? I shake the thoughts out of my head each and every day, a monumental internal struggle, the battle against my inner demons. Now on top of trying to get past that drama, I take a simple shortcut home from a run, and get mugged?? Suddenly I find out that stalkers have been casing my apartment leading up to jumping me and smashing my head in? It’s just too much. I can’t make sense of it, and my head hurts.
At that moment, the doorbell rings. I barely get it open before Jack sweeps me up and hugs me fiercely. I can’t help but return the embrace, his feelings are intense and contagious, but the pain makes me wince. I can’t be squeezed. His face rests in the crook of my neck, enveloping me in his scent. I feel suffocated and that makes me feel guilty, but I push away anyway.
Before he lets me go, he ever so slightly inhales my neck and leaves a feathery kiss under my ear.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Still a bit sore.” I smile a weak smile.
He instantly releases me, looking apologetic.
“No, it’s ok, just not sotight.” I could actually do with being let go altogether, but I don’t want to hurt him when he rushed over here to see me.
“I can’t believe this all happened to you. How’s your head? Do you need to be lying down?”
“I’m okay, I just need some rest. Let’s go cop a squat on the couch and we can talk.”
When we sit on the couch, he unexpectedly pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. I don’t know why, but I start to cry… to sob, actually, until my face is stained with tears and his shirt is wet. I cry until I feel empty and I can’t cry anymore. He gently rocks me and smooths my hair, kissing the top of my head. He holds me without saying a word.
I don’t know yet why he was leaving that downstairs apartment the other morning, and sometimes Jack is intense, but right now, tonight, I needed this. I’m glad he’s here.
I fall asleep in Jack’s arms, feeling numb and detached from all the shit I’ve been through, but it doesn’t stop me from dreaming. I’m walking along a path lined with trees. The sky is clear and sun is shining. I’m following the man, that man with the familiar face… the one I can’t seem to hold onto. I’m smiling, taking his hand, following him to the edge of a cliff. As we get there, he looks and me and says, “Jump.” I shake my head no.
“Jump!” he says, but he seems different.
“Jump, I’ll take care of you.” The voice doesn’t match the face.Who is he?
“No!” I yell and try to pull my hand from his. That’s when the face changes, and Jack pushes me off the edge.
I wake with a gasp, instinctively trying to sit up but pinned down by a heavy leg and arm. I take a breath to get my bearings, and cuddle closer to Jack, feeling the warmth of his body. I don’t understand that dream, but remember last night how he just held me seems like enough proof that he won’t push me off a cliff. I’ve been holding him at bay, fighting protective instincts that may have nothing to do with him, and maybe all this time he’s been exactly what I need. We still need to talk about Miss Slutty from apartment C, but I am not nearly as pissed as I was before.
I kiss the tip of his nose to wake him, reminded of how handsome he is—a defined jaw line, strong and masculine, which matches the description of his body. My favorite parts of Jack are those gorgeous green eyes that rest between two rows of enviable black lashes. His sandy blonde hair complements the olive in his skin tone. All in all, traditionally handsome, like a frat boy.
