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He stops and looks down at me. His hair is askew, like this night has knocked him a bit sideways from his usual completely perfect self.
“We’re still far from the hostel,” I tell him. “But we’ll get there faster if I walk.”
“Physical danger, Ms. Chahal,” he says, reminding me of our terms. The proposal was that he only gets to interfere when there is a risk to my body. Overzealously, he has interpreted that to mean I can’t walk on my own because glass shattered behind us. Maybe he needs to make up for not doing anything about what happened to me earlier.
Huan holds me like he does. Tightly like an obstinate bull.
“All the taxis keep cancelling,” a young woman shouts into her phone, walking past us. “And I’m too titted for the bus.”
Huan switches me to a fireman’s hold, then fishes out his phone. I’m shocked into silence at how easily I’m managed by him. His arm bands across my back keeping me in place. I’m close to panting.
Pant-ing.
It takes a few seconds for me to speak.
“What is it?” I’m over his shoulder and can’t see.
“Called a ride-share. No one is picking up the trip, but my phone will keep searching.”
“Great. Going to let me down now?”
If he doesn’t, my thighs are going to start squirming together.
“No.”
Lovely. Looking for a mental diversion, my mind goes melancholic. I disassociate and think how tonight was bizarre, but also anti-climatic. I wonder how I can make tomorrow better. How can this trip—and my life—go at the right speed, so I don’t have to worry about running out of time? Blink and three weeks will be gone. I’ve already lost another day. Was it wasted? Because guess what? Parts of your journey you don’t get back. Like once the twenties are over, they are done. And you’re expected to enjoy the next set of adventures, but what if you started later than everyone? Not that I am thirty yet. I’m not. Butpart of my journey—for lack of a better word—ends soon, and now I’m stressed because I stood in one spot too long. That I thought too much and acted too slowly and now it’s too late.
“Fuck it sucks,” I let out.
“I’ll get you to bed soon,” Huan says, misinterpreting my meaning.
He takes us around a corner. It’s not a lot of progress, for I can still see the hostel building silhouetted against the sky. However, this road is busier. We might get a cab. Even if we don’t, I’ve got to get back on my own feet. Being carried like this stresses everything. When I’m not stuck in my head, my body feels hot, stuffy, and soon I will do something tawdry like reach down and fondle Huan’s ass.
Before I can give in to the impulse, I hear a noise. The worst noise to hear.
Rachel laughing?
I don’t know where it’s coming from or if it really is her, but I’ve gone rigid. What if she comes around the corner and sees me? I’ll have to string more half-truths about Judd, Huan, and what happened tonight. I am not okay with that. I have no more lying in me.
My legs buckle and swing.
Huan is so surprised that he loosens his hold enough so I’m free.
On my own feet, my head whips around. Multiple voices carry on the wind and there are a few that could be hers.
“Rachel,” I tell Huan, who looks thoroughly confused.
“Where?”
“Not sure.”
Groups of people amble across the street, but none are recognizable. I peek around the corner. More people are coming and laughing. Some of them have brown hair, and some of them are lanky like Tom. Imagine if Judd talked to Tom? What if theyleft the bar together not long after we did? It’s totally conceivable I’ll see them again, especially since Huan and I are still in the neighbourhood.
I rush back to him. “We should hide.”
His brow lifts. “Aren’t you friends?”
“We are. New friends. And I—can’t explain.” I square my shoulders, looking for possibilities. I’m not a good runner. The street is an open stretch, and all cabs going by are stuffed.
