Page 21 of Protected by the MC


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Chapter 15

I find Dex in the makeshift gym, exercising. When I couldn’t find him anywhere outside, I knew this was the place to go next. At first, he doesn’t notice me there. I’m in the doorway and somehow, I can’t walk in. Like a vampire who can’t cross in

to someone’s home without being invited. So, I just look at him, waiting for the moment when our eyes would meet and he’d start talking first. It takes him a few seconds to turn my way, as he adjusts the heavy weights he was just lifting.

“Why are you just standing there, like a beggar child?” he asks me, with a grin. His sense of humor is weird. Definitely not my kind.

Still, I do as he says. I take a few steps, silently, without glancing his way. When I look up, he’s staring me down. His t-shirt is clinging to his body, moist and transparent. I can see the bulging outlines of his muscular body, as his veins palpitate with strain. A few drops of sweat are glistening on his forehead, as he reaches to grab a bottle of water and drinks the whole thing in one go.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” I start. “I just wanted to ask if I can talk to my mom again.”

“Of course,” he nods. “You don’t need to ask; you know where my phone is.”

He did say that I can go into his shack any time and use his phone whenever I please, but it’s not something I feel comfortable with. It’s difficult enough always having to ask something of him, but taking something without asking would be the pinnacle.

“I know, but,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. Hopefully he gets what I’m trying to say.

“You’re too nice to take stuff without asking?” he grins, eyeing me askew. I hate that I’m feeling like a teenager again, talking with her crush for the first time.

“Something like that,” I try to be calm. It’s amazing how someone can make you feel alright and then not so alright at the same time.

“Maybe you just wanted to see me?” he asks and I blush a blazing red. I shift the weight of my entire body from one foot to the other, but I still feel wobbly. What he’s implying is crazy, just crazy. “It’s OK.” he stands up and walks over to me. “We’ll make it our little secret.”

Now, he is standing so close to me that I can feel the fiery nature of his aura. His energy is overwhelming, all-consuming and I feel that it’s threatening to swallow me whole. And yet, I stay. I don’t run away. The corners of his lips are fighting a full-fledged smile, his eyebrows look like they’re questioning everything before him, slightly raised. That mischievous look in his eyes is unbeatable. I wonder if it’s contagious. Trouble usually is. Especially when it comes in this form. But, it’s too late to run away, too late not to get involved. I’m already deep in and I know it.

“Come, let’s get you that phone,” he brushes his shoulder against mine as he walks past me and goes out of the shack. I follow him. Once in his shack, he quickly finds the phone and hands it over to me. “Talk as much as you’d like.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “I’ll keep it short. I’ll be going home soon anyway, no?”

It takes him a moment to reply, as if he needs to remember the exact answer.

“The day after tomorrow,” he answers openly, but the sound of his voice has changed. “You can arrange the meeting for the afternoon, somewhere around 2 or 3 pm.”

“Great,” I smile broadly, my heart filled with joy.

“You know where to find me if you need me,” he says again, sounding a bit standoffish and leaves before I can reply anything.

I dial Vanessa’s number immediately. During these last two weeks, I called my mother and Vanessa interchangeably. Occasionally, Vanessa wasn’t picking up, so I’d call my mother instead. Vanessa sometimes works double shifts, that plus her boyfriend, which means that she sometimes spends the whole day out and ends up spending the night at her boyfriend’s, too. It rings a few times and I sigh disappointed. She’s out. I hang up and dial my mother instead. She picks up after the second ring.

“Yes?” I hear her worried voice.

“Hi, mom,” I greet her with a smile.

“Isabel!” she exclaims in that sweet, motherly tone that only an overworked, overstressed mother has. “You have no idea how it feels to hear your voice again.”

“Strangely enough, I missed my own voice, too. I never knew how much I’d miss talking,” I joke, but she continues in the same manner she started.

“How are you? Has your jaw healed well? Did they treat you well there?”

“I’m fine, mom,” I chuckle, rolling my eyes a little at her excess of worry, but then I remember, that’s what moms do. They worry. They can’t help it. “I’m coming home the day after tomorrow. I was thinking of just telling them to drop me off at Vanessa’s.”

“When? I’ll come to meet you.”

“You don’t have to,” I try to dissuade her. She’s an elderly lady and she usually gets car sick on buses.

“I want to,” she continues to contradict me. Or, is it me who continues to contradict her?

“I’ll just stay with Vanessa until the following morning and then I’ll catch the first bus home.” My plan sounds reasonable. There is no need for her to travel all the way there and then back on the following day. It seems silly.

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