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We continue our walk, the silence stretching between us.
“If you’re going to be out late other nights, let me know. I can make sure you get home okay.”
I stop in my tracks, staring at him suspiciously.
“Why would you do that for me?” The question hangs in the air, my gaze searching his face for an ulterior motive.
He doesn’t glance at me at first, but eventually turns with a soft smile.
“Because there are a lot of assholes around,” he answers earnestly. “And I saw how spooked you were. Plus, you seem like the kind of girl who won’t listen to rules if they get in your way.”
His words leave me unsure of how to respond. Is he being genuine, or is this just some sort of act?
“Yeah, maybe,” I reply noncommittally, not ready to trust him.
“So, you’re in a band then?” he asks, starting his stroll. “What’s the name?”
I hurry to catch up to him.
“Broken Gears,” I murmur, attempting to sound casual. “We do rock songs mostly. It’s just something I love to do on the side.”
“So you’re playing gigs?”
I’m bouncing on my toes, close to giggling with excitement to tell someone. “We did a small gig tonight, and sure it was to only twenty people, but it was incredible.”
He’s grinning at me. “Sounds like it’s more than just a side thing if you’re doing gigs. Do you sing, or…”
“I sing,” I blurt out a bit too enthusiastically, maybe because, aside from the band and my close friend, Sarah, no one asks me about the band.
He grins, glancing over at me, and there’s softness in his gaze. Who the heck is this guy, and where was he weeks ago at the party? This isn’t who I made out with.
I find myself almost liking him… this side of him, anyway. A side of him I hadn’t expected. It’s disarming in a way that leaves me feeling both cautious and drawn to him.
Standing in front of a small house with a red roof and a rose garden out the front, near the edge of campus, the moment suddenly feels real.
“Well, this is me,” I say, gesturing to the home nestled among a few others. “Thanks for the walk.” I’m already halfway down the footpath, eager to escape into the safety of home, when his voice stops me.
“Have a good night.”
Just as I reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and there’s Dad, looking every bit my disheveled father with graying hair and wearing a robe. My heart drops at his intense glare in my direction. I’d told him I’d be home by ten. It’s close to midnight, so I’d hope to sneak in without him knowing. That plan’s gone to dust.
“Jake Reynolds, what are you doing with my daughter?” Dad barks, his voice cutting through the quiet night.
“Emily, you were over an hour late.”
Internally, I cringe. “Really, Dad?”
Turning back, I watch Jake, his face pale but his posture firm, as if bracing himself for a scolding.
Then Dad bursts out chuckling. “I’m kidding,” he says.
I roll my eyes hard at him.
“Good to see she’s making some friends,” Dad says to a still-silent Jake.
“Dad, I have Sarah,” I remind him.
His gaze lands on me like a boulder. “Who’s a bad influence.”
