12 Rounds (12 page)

 Even before my attack, I'd always been shy, introverted. It's not that I didn't try to be an extrovert, believe me, I tried. Once when I was a freshman, I tried to flirt with Ben King, a junior I was crushing on who was in my advanced biology class. Only that didn't work out so well. I began the conversation batting my eyelashes and asked him 'which animal he preferred dissecting'. That earned me a disgusted look and from that moment on Ben sat on the opposite side of the room, as far away from me as he could.

I'm not a freak, I just don't know how to act, flirt, or talk to guys. I've been in the 'friend zone' with most of the guys I know because of that. Except for Ryan. He's the only guy who has ever given me that kind of attention. And I don't want his attention.

Lara cuts into my morbid flashback when she asks, “So what do you think of his friends?” She contorts her body so she's facing me. “Any of them catch your eye?”

I glance in the direction of the group of guys. “Not really.” I glimpse at Sean casually, trying not to be too obvious. He's not paying attention, wearing a cocky smirk, dimples present on his cheeks as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind blondie number two's ear.

Lara doesn't miss a thing. “Oh no,” she chuckles. “My little friend has set her sights higher than guys who work at a sporting goods store.”

“Stop it.” I wave her off and tear my eyes away from Sean. “So I think he's attractive. That's all it is. That's all it will ever be.” He's made it clear on more than one occasion that that's all I'll ever be to him. Some girl who admires him from afar. “He wants nothing to do with me.”

Lara narrows her eyes and bites her bottom lip. “Really?”

Oh no. I know that look on her face. She's wearing her
I have a plan look
.  A devilish glint shines in her blue eyes and I know she's about to try pull something off. She glances over her shoulder briefly at Sean then back at me. “Those skanks don't have shit on you,” she comments and rises from the booth.

“Lara, don't!” I snap and latch onto her elbow. But she doesn't listen, she yanks her arm away and slinks over to Sean and the two girls. Panic blossoms inside of me, starting at my chest cavity before working its way throughout my entire body. I have to get out of here. Stealing a glance at Lara, she's pointing in my direction and Sean observes me with a nod.

Oh. My. God.

What is she saying? I really need to get out of here.

In a flash, I bolt from the booth, making my way to the exit. I stop in the small square area between the entrance and exit. With my back to the wall, I slide down, hugging my knees to my chest. The door leading to the parking lot is like a cement barrier, a blockade, a force-field. As much as I tell myself I need to leave, I can't bring myself to walk out the door. My chest heaves. I clasp my trembling fingers. My heart is on speed, thumping a million miles a minute.

My head drops down and I bury it in my hands. The fluorescent lights in the parking lot bleed in through the glass and lifting my head, I stare at the tiny dots of white on the tips of my black shoes. A vision flashes in my mind and I see them—the hands. My attacker's hands. They're needy, out-stretched. They are reaching for me. Now I'm starting to lose it again and I realize I've overstayed my welcome at the bar. I need to get Lara and tell her I want to leave.

It bothers me that I'm going to ruin her night, but I know I'm seconds away from falling apart and I need to go home before the fear and panic eats me alive. Pushing to my feet, I spin around, pulling the entrance door to the bar open, and ram into something upon entering. “Fuck.” My organs are like walls smashed by a wrecking ball. I'm being demolished. Pieces of me break off and crumble, slamming into the ground and I can't handle being shattered. I start shaking and stutter out, “I'm...I'm...”

“Shh.” I look up and Sean has his hands on my shoulders. His voice is calming and deep yet soft. “Easy.” His depths of blue-green burn into my eyes and they are full of intensity. He drops his hands from my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

I swallow and nod, keeping my eyes locked with his. It amazes me that he isn't looking at me with disdain or looking at me like I've lost my mind. Even though I'm pretty sure I dropped it on the ground somewhere in this tuna-can of a room.

“Lara said you needed a ride home,” he says slowly, lingering on each word.

 “I'm having a panic attack. I'm not mentally challenged,” I snap, irritated that he was speaking to me like I’m stupid or something.

“Whatever.” His gaze darkens. There's grit in his voice. It looks like I've pissed him off. Yay me. He rolls his eyes “Do you need a ride or not?”

“Yes,” I croak, trying to find my voice. I need to go home, but do I want him to be the one to take me? “Why can't Lara take me?”

“I guess she wants to stay a while longer,” he comments.

I pull back the door and I see Lara talking and laughing with, Ted. She looks so happy and carefree. I don't want to bother her. I want her to enjoy herself. Closing the door, I chew on my lip and play with my fingers. My nerves are crackling inside of me. “If you don't mind then, yes, I'd really appreciate a ride.”

“Fine.” He pushes on the exit door with force and storms into the parking lot.

I follow, staying close behind him. I admire the swagger in the way he walks. He's confident, but not overly proud, with his broad muscular shoulders pulled back and long strides. He's tall too, but not too tall, probably around 6'1. That's almost a foot taller than my height of 5'3. My eyes trail down his arms. His hands are clenched in fists, and I marvel at the sight of his tattoos, and the way they wrap around his bulging biceps. I lift my eyes higher, taking in the sight of the way his chestnut hair that is styled in a messy way. Then I notice the diamond studs in his ears. I never knew his ears were pierced. Then again the last couple times I saw him I wasn't focused on his ears.

Reaching into his pocket, Sean yanks out a set of keys and hits a button. The lights on a brand new looking, black Lincoln Navigator with a chrome gleaming grille flash twice. Sean continues walking to the drivers' side without acknowledging me. I mean I didn't expect him to be a
hold a door open for a girl
  kind of guy, but still. He could have at least said something like
hop in
or
this is me
.

I climb into the passenger seat, close the door, and fasten my seat belt as Sean starts the car.
Dear God
by
Avenged Sevenfold
blasts through the speakers and nearly blows my eardrums out. I love the song, but I prefer to listen to it a reasonable volume. Instinctively, my hands cover my ears and without a word, Sean turns down the volume. The rasp in the lead singer's voice fills my ears at comfortable level and I let the words infect me as I turn toward the window.

An enticing aroma swirls around the car and I inhale deeply. It's a musky, roguish scent. Like a mixture of fresh rain and cedar. I swallow hard and I can feel my heart in my throat. I hope this entire ride isn’t full of this awkward silence. I glimpse in his direction and his seat is tilted back, he has one hand on the steering wheel, and the other arm is nestled in the crook of the window. The song on the radio changes and
The Time of the Season
by
The Zombies
comes on. Another fantastic song. My eyes flit to his free hand, the one he's not steering with, and I watch as he taps his knuckle against the window along with the beat of the song.

“So,” I say softly. “Thank you for the ride.” I'm desperate to relieve the tension between us. It's making the ride insufferable. Especially because I keep wanting him to at least talk to me, and he hasn't even tried to say anything.

“No problem,” he answers shortly.

Great. Two word answers. This is going to be an epic ride. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

Now, one word answers.

Even better.

He keeps his eyes straight ahead, staring out the windshield, an unreadable look on his face. I wish I knew what he was thinking or how to read him. Earlier, when I stumbled into him at the bar, I thought there was warmth in his voice when he caught me by the shoulders. No, I know there was definitely warmth there. Maybe even a hint of concern. Now he's acting like I have the plague and that if he speaks one word to me he'll catch it.

What perplexes me more than anything is that he came deadly close to touching my neck. Normally I freak out at that point. But I didn’t. Then again he didn’t actually touch my neck.

We merge onto  the highway and Sean finally decides to speak. “You have to tell me what exit to get off at.” His voice is flat.

At that point I've had it. His hot and cold attitude is driving me crazy. “What's your problem?” I snap. “Why do you hate me so much?” The least he can do is give me an honest answer. I feel like I've had to put up with his moody attitude, and hateful looks I at least deserve an honest answer.

His head turns slowly and his eyes sweep over me quickly before returning to the windshield. “Who said I hate you?” He lowers his voice a level. “Did I ever say that?”

“You don't have to say it,” I groan, frustrated. “It's always written all over your face.” I try to think of how many times he's scowled at me since I've met him, but I realize I've lost count.

“I don't hate you.” He turns his head toward me again, a sincere look in his eyes.

At that moment, I'm elated yet baffled at the same time. Every look he's ever given me has insinuated dislike for me. Or maybe it's me and I'm just that terrible at reading people. Our eyes are locked on each others. His are smoldering with something intense. Maybe its desire. Could it be want? Suddenly I break away from the seductive stare-down when a bright white light burns in my eyes. They are so close I can feel them scorching my skin. We've drifted into the opposite lane and there's a semi truck headed straight for us. “Sean!” I scream. “Oh God! Look out!”

Sean's swerves the car out of the way and his thick muscled right arm juts out across my abdomen, shielding me protectively like he's bracing me for impact. The car does a 360 in the middle of the highway and I can feel Sean's arm tighten against me. My stomach is in my throat as the wail of screeching tires throbs in my ears, and I swear I can smell the rubber burning. My heart hammers against my ribcage and I'm trying to breathe, but I can't.

Seconds later the waterworks have commenced.

Sean finally gains control of the SUV and hits the brakes on the side of the highway. He flips on the hazards and I'm breathing shallowly, trying to control the sobs escaping my throat. My attention averts to his arm that's like a metal bar on a ride at an amusement park that's keeping me from falling out. Sean yanks his arm away and slumps down in his seat, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Are you okay, Hadlee? Are you hurt or anything?”

“No.” I swallow a wad of saliva and tears. “Just a little shaken up.” My voice vibrates and I clear my throat, trying to gain control of it.

There's a grave look on Sean's face and he nods. “Good.” Another tiny nod. “Good.”

He's breathless too and even though I know he won't admit it, he's probably a little shaken up too. “Can we just stay here another couple minutes?” I ask, my breathing still shallow and raspy.

He swallows hard and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Sure.”

We stay on the side of the road for another fifteen minutes and during that time Sean gets out to check his vehicle for any damage. I mean we didn't hit anything, but maybe something got damaged from the spinning. I don't know much about cars, but you never know. If a rock can fly up and crack a windshield then maybe spinning a bunch of times can damage something.

“Everything good?” I ask Sean as he climbs back into the driver's side.

“Yeah. I thought maybe I might have bent a rim or something, but everything is fine.” He puts his hand on the keys and goes to turn over the ignition, but hesitates. “Can I drive now or would you rather wait a little while longer?” His blue eyes flit across my face before resting on my green ones,  full of worry and sincerity.

My breathing is no longer erratic. My heart has ceased racing. I've completely calmed down. “I'm good,” I answer slowly. “Thank you.”

With that said, he turns over the ignition, puts his blinker on and pulls out into mass of on-going traffic.

We don't talk for the rest of the ride home. Me, my mind keeps flashing back to that moment where we almost collided head-on with that truck. For a minute I actually thought we were going to die. And that was my second brush with death in the last two years. I think of the way Sean,  put his arm out in front of me. It seemed like he was trying to protect me. But why? Why would someone want to protect a total stranger? Maybe he likes to play the hero. Maybe he was just trying to be nice. I also think of what he said before that;
I don't hate you
.  Well, if he doesn't hate me then why all the nasty looks? Why all the harsh innuendos? Maybe he just doesn't like me in the way I like him. Maybe he was just trying to push me away because he could tell from looking at me how I feel about him.

It's crazy to me how a person I barely know can make me feel this way. This way meaning, just a smoldering glance from him makes my heart beat all erratically, hearing his voice drowns out my noisy thoughts, and the feel of his touch keeps me from jumping out of my skin. I peek over at him, and he's not relaxed like he was before. He seems more nervous. More tense.

I tell him which exit to take then instruct him where to turn on all the side roads. Before I know it, we're pulling into my driveway. Sean turns off the engine and leans back in his seat with a sigh. My eyes center on his abs and the way his flimsy shirt clings to them. Heat sears in my cheeks and I look away momentarily, hoping that the blush will fade.

I inhale and exhale slowly, swallow my nerves, and face him. “Thanks for the ride.” My voice is low—hushed. “I guess...I guess.” I can't find words. I wish he didn't make me so nervous. I wish that I could act normal around him.