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My car?
Sex?
Hot, musty filled air abruptly appears next to my ear delivering the answer, “Stop digging or else.”
The gray letters swiftly sweep across my bleary vision, wedging themselves between my eyes and glasses, spurring me to hysterically whip my head from side to side in hopes of avoiding being touched by them. This action of agitation unexpectedly results in me colliding with the attacker’s cheek encouraging my best friend’s command to come in a second time much louder.
Sharper.
SING!
Recalling the N being for nose, I propel my head backward, skull bashing into the other person’s causing a cracking sound to echo across the parking lot. Unlike my previous attempts, this one successfully frees me. Presents me with the opportunity to rip away the wire. Gasp for air. Kick my leg the same direction I sent my head in hopes of smashing into their crotch or thigh or shin, somewhere – fuckanywhere– that will keep them out of my space. Using my newfound freedom to my advantage, I hit the panic button on my keys, relief flooding my system the instant the shrill shrieks and flashing lights conquer the night air. However, before I have the chance to call out or run for actual help, the assaulter darts past me, roughly clipping my frame during their flee. I naturally stumble and trip over the edge of the nearby curb. Instantly, I stretch my arms out, praying they’ll cushion my fall, but my head still slams into the sidewalk, turning my currently dim, blurry world pitch black in a matter of mere seconds.
Chapter 4
Slater
Something’s wrong.
Somethinghasto be wrong.
Why else wouldn’t she have texted me by now?
I guess shecould be…just really caught up in whatever project she decided to stay late for…but even when that happens – and ithas happened before– she still comes up for air.
She still sends me a cute one liner.
Or funny GIF.
Or a silly smiley face that lets me know she’s alive.
Thinking about me.
Lord knows I’m thinking about her.
Even when I’m sitting across from an irrefutably attractive woman that fits the distraction bill.
I anxiously tap my phone for the thirtieth time in forty-two minutes to check if I’ve somehow managed to miss a notification in the ninety seconds that have passed since I last looked.
“Waiting on an important call?” Lila Rossetti, Aviva’s college roommate, curiously inquires from the opposite side of the square table.
“Text.” Disappointed at the lack of change, I shift my stare up to the striking blue pair I’m sure most men fall to their knees over. “Sorry.” Reaching for my beer is attached to a sincere apology. “I’m not usually this rude.” A polite grin struggles to work its way onto my face. “I swear my maand the militarytaught me better manners than this.”
She pulls her long, light brown hair to one side and lets her slender shoulders bounce. “Shit happens. I get it.”
It betternotbe happening.
And she better not have…decided to…go to…a bar or something with people from work where she met some random asshole who wants to get her naked.
I know it’s unlikely.
She rarely ever leaves her taste the rainbow decorated office.
Plus, people don’t exactly go out of their way to talk to her.
I love the woman.
I mean – I really fucking do – but she has resting panic eyes.
