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I am barely standing when Bruno also stands. I shake my head once, a signal that he does not need to follow. I am just curious. This has nothing to do with them.
He reluctantly sits back down.
I take out my phone and pretend to answer a call before I quickly exit the bar.
I am not usually nosey but something about this whole situation just rubs me the wrong way.
As I step out into the bustling city, my eyes dart around, scanning the crowd. I can’t help but worry about her safety, and my need to ensure she’s okay propels me forward.
I’m retracing my steps back to the bar trying to figure out what direction she could have gone off to.
And then I spot her. That shock of blonde hair and the unmistakable silhouette. She’s in the alley, and the man has her pinned against the wall. My heart races, and I quicken my pace, my footsteps echoing in the narrow passage.
She doesn’t appear to be resisting, but I notice her hand discreetly in her pocket, presumably clutching her pepper spray. As I approach, I witness the struggle intensify. It’s a reflex, an instinct I can’t ignore. I intervene.
Without a second thought, I grip the man’s shoulder and forcibly pull him away from her, his surprised yelp filling the alley. I revel in the satisfying crunch of my fist connecting with his nose as I land a punch. “Back off,” I growl, my voice edged with authority.
The man stumbles backward, clutching his bleeding nose. “I’ll sue you!” he exclaims, the threat of legal action in his tone, and he retreats back into the café.
I feel a throbbing pain in my hand from the impact, but I don’t let it deter me. My attention turns back to her, expecting to see relief and gratitude in her eyes. However, all I find is annoyance and anger etched across her face.
She regards me with a raised eyebrow and a scowl, as if I’ve done something entirely unnecessary. “What’s your deal?” she asks, her voice sharp and laced with frustration.
I’m taken aback by her response, not expecting that reaction. “I... I thought you were in trouble,” I stammer, my confusion evident in my words. “Is that how you thank me for helping?”
“I did not ask to be rescued, did I?”
“Sorry lady,I didn’t mean to overstep.”
Her irritation seems to intensify, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “I had the situation under control,” she retorts, her gaze piercing.
I feel a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. My intention was to assist, not to intrude. “I apologize,” I offer, my tone sincere. “I didn’t mean to offend or make things worse.”
Her expression softens slightly, and she lets out a sigh. “It’s just... I’m used to handling these situations on my own, okay?”
I nod, understanding her need for independence and self-reliance. “I respect that,” I reply, my voice more composed.
She studies me for a moment, as if assessing my sincerity. Eventually, she nods in acknowledgement. “Fine.”
I can’t help but admire her determination and self-assuredness, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
I flex my throbbing hand once.
She eyes it before turning her attention back to my face, “Are you hurt?”
“Oh, now you’re worried about me?”
She looks annoyed.
This close, under the dimly lit alleyway, I am able to commit all her features to memory.
I study her as she studies me, her gray eyes electric and sharp, framed by long lashes. Her pouty lips curve into a sardonic half-smile, and her button nose adds a touch of playfulness to her symmetrical face. There’s no denying it; she’s stunning.
Her grumpy demeanor is a stark contrast to her appearance, and I can’t help but be drawn to her.
“Screw you,” she retorts, her words sharp.
I hold up my uninjured hand in a placating gesture. “Hey, relax. I’m not the enemy. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”
