Rescue | Tronnor

Chapter Ten

TROYE

"Oh... H-hey..." I stammer, my eyes trained on the ground to avoid his gaze, ashamed.

"Troye? Is that you?"

I shrug. "Yeah. I guess."

I walk slowly behind him to his car, dragging my feet on the ground.

Connor starts the car and drives. After a few agonizing minutes of silence, he explodes.

"What the hell are you doing in there, Troye?!"

I clench my intertwined fingers tightly. "That is none of your business," I say curtly.

"Troye, you could go to jail for this."

"So could you." I look up and meet his gaze. "Look, why do you even care? You don't know me. Just fuck me so I can get my money."

"Troye--"

"I don't need your pity, Connor!" I exclaim in frustration. "Just fuck me so I can at least have a living."

He sighs.

CONNOR

"Not until you tell me why." I say firmly. "I... I want to help you."

He glares at me. "You met me in a coffee shop. You talked to me for five minutes. You barely know me. Why the hell do you want to help me? I'm a fucking prostitute, Connor! Do you think I'd be here if I had any other option?!"

"I--" My voice falters.

Troye's expression softens. "Look, I'm here because I was in a hurry and needed money. If it's any consolation, I'm planning to leave as soon as I can."

I take my eyes of the road for a split second, glancing at him. Nervous, I stammer, "Well, you could stay with me. I have an extra room in my apartment."

Troye's eyes look like they could jump out of his head. "Really?"

"Yeah. Ty--" I choke, "--my ah, old roommate, bailed on me a few months ago."

"Oh my god." Troye slumps back in his seat. "Connor... I would love to. But, how would I break this to Cobra?"

I'm nearly frantic. I don't know why, but I feel this sudden protective instinct to protect this boy, to get him away from those people. "Just leave!"

Troye chuckles half-heartedly. "It's not that easy." He holds up his wrist, where a metal band is locked securely. "Cobra knows exactly where I am at all times."

My heart sinks. This poor boy. Well, he's far from a boy I guess, maybe two, three years younger than me? I need to get him out of that place. "I have a friend. She's a genius, and kind of a thief."

"Thief?"

"Well, she may or may not have robbed a few houses in her life. Almost swiped my wallet a few times."

"How the hell would that help me?"

I wince. "She can pick locks, take apart anything, and she's a wiz with technology."

Troye's expression softens. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine. I'll call her up when we get to my apartment."

Silence blankets the car for a few minutes.

"So," Troye ventures, "What do you do for a living?"

Ahhhhhh shit. "I, well, I, um... I'm a painter?"

Surprisingly, Troye's face lights up. "Really? Can I see some?"

"Yeah," I chuckle softly. His smile takes off all the years he's grown too fast. "When we get home."

So so so so so sorry for the long hiatus!
Ily💕
-Julia