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“You can’t just go around punching people,” one of Scott’s friends says to the knight.
“I can,” my knight in shining armor replies calmly, “When warranted. You’re more than welcome to retaliate.” He opens his exposed muscular arms in an open invitation.
I look at Scott and his friends, then back to the knight. That’s an impressive dare. A part of me, an evil part of me, wants Scott and his friends to strike back to see them get beaten down. None of them are fighters. They’re middle management office workers who get tired after running twenty minutes on an inclined treadmill.
“Who are you to her anyway? Her new boyfriend? So that you know, she’ll accuse you of rape when she feels dirty for being such a slut. And she is such a…” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.
As fast as lightning, my knight punches Scott to the ground again with a loud crack. He’s screaming in pain. His friends surround him again, all the while yelling more insults at the knight, who seems unperturbed, which is both frightening and alluring.
“Is he going to survive?” I try to ask sarcastically.
“Do you want him to?” my knight asks. Then adds, “Sorry, I’m not serious. It’s probably a broken arm, possibly a dislocated shoulder.”
We hold eye contact. The knight is mesmerizing. I could look into his sharp eyes forever. My heart is beating faster, and I wonder if his heart is doing the same.
Four big men in black security uniforms break our moment. “Hey, you two. Yes, you. Come on, we can’t have this. You’ll have to leave now.” I don’t move. “You too, Gothic Princess. You and your boyfriend have done enough here. We don’t need any more violence. Go now, and I won’t take your names. I know these guys are mischief-makers, so whatever happened, they probably deserved it. But you all have to go now. No one wants trouble.”
The knight looks at me with his striking grey eyes against his painted grey skin, and I wonder if he realizes how attractive he looks like this, grey on grey. “I’ll see you home safely.”
I have no reason to doubt the knight’s word, seeing as he just punched Scott for me, except that if the knight attacks me, he’s so big and strong, I would not be able to escape. Not all men are predators, I remind myself.
The security guards escort us out the back of the bar and into the alley. I think if my knight in shining armor is going to attack, there’s no better chance than now, alone in the dark alley. I’m frozen with anxiety as the back door to the bar closes behind us. We are alone. I wait one second, two seconds, then twenty seconds pass, but he does nothing but look at me patiently.
Finally, he asks, “How can I help you?”
“I need to call my friend,” I say, reaching for my bag. “My phone. Damn. It’s gone. It must have fallen out of my little costume bag. Not what I needed tonight.”
“I have a phone you can use,” he says, giving me his phone unlocked without me having to ask. I can’t help but notice it has a screensaver with Earth on it. There’s nothing wrong with that, but most men have their dogs, cars, or sometimes even Jesus. At least with a picture of Earth, he’s not reminding himself not to sin.
“Thanks. I know this is going to sound really silly, but I don’t know my friend’s phone number.”
“Maybe call your own phone number, and someone will bring your phone out?”
Despite knowing it’ll be in vain, I try calling my phone, but no one picks up. Over and over again, it rings, and then my notification that my voicemail is full comes on. The only thing I can think of doing is messaging Scarlett on social media. Do you mind if I use your internet to log into social media and send them a message?”
“Be my guest.”
“I’m sorry to keep you,” I say as I log in.
“It’s no problem. It’s the least I can do, as I was the one who got us thrown out.”
I look up at the knight. His face is so perfect, symmetrical, and eerily familiar. Have we met before? “We got thrown out because you were being a gentleman,” I say. “If anything, I owe you.” I wish I could take back the last sentence words as soon as I said it as I don’t want a strange man, even a good-looking one, to think I owe him anything.
“You owe me nothing,” he replies instantly.
My shoulders relax, and suddenly, my body feels that this is the go-ahead to become sexually attracted to him, despite my mind trying to warn me to keep my distance.
I find Scarlett on social media and message her. I also want to tell her who I’m with in case he kidnaps me. “What’s your name?”
“Sem.”
“Sim, like a sim card in my phone?”
“Almost, but my parents didn’t name me after technology. It’s spelled S-E-M.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be...”
“You’re not. Blame my parents.”
