◤𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕪◢ - It Started With Vomit!

Chapter 18: Strike One

Catching Shadow mouth the name Rouge Bat for the third time during the car ride, Amy reluctantly suppressed her thirst for knowledge and settled for not addressing it at all, believing it could come out as an assumptive assertion. But shortly after the ardent resolve, less than a minute later—" Rouge Bat"—he went again, compelling her to disregard every sense of privacy or propriety.

"Do you know her?"

To cover up any embarrassment was he right—not that she doubted it; he was always unerring—she feigned an aloof tenor; a pretence that didn't help assuage the unkind longing that prickled within her, curious to know why he offered help. "Ask her yourself" or "It's nothing of importance" was the sort of reaction she expected. But instead of being curt or flat-out ignoring her, he responded with an odd gaze, a bleak mixture of confuslment tilting the edges of his lips whilst intently focused on the road.

How in the world am I supposed to interpret that? She equally blanched from shock. During the short month Amy had known Shadow, the man was never one short of ripostes—calculated, collected and savvy, that was who she knew. Not the nervy, unexpressive mobian seated lifelessly across her.

But, maybe if she simply tested another approach... "Of course, my mistake. She's your employee, you'd have to know her," that might just turn his gears. Besting the hurdle that the plan presented—showing vulnerability, be it, fake, to Mr. Supercelious over here—she willed herself to swell with superfluous hurt, prodding any probable sense of matrimonial vows he had said he would abide. "Your affection for staff is... commendable," fake tears threatened to cascade down her cheeks. "One could almost argue much more than for your wife."

"I don't know all my employees, Rose."

"Yet you know her." He stared back again in disbelief, noting an eagerness in her swift response before averting his gaze. "A fake marriage is still a marriage, Mr. Hedgehog!" The docile act instantly disappeared in noticing his wry expression.

Then without explicitly stating it, a realization that he was daring her to pursue this uncalled-for interrogation meant that the ensuing events were either: watch the car ride turn into every 5-year old boy's fantasy—a real-life game of Mario Kart—or getting out of it alive.

"Do you think we should get down?" She flayed her hands about, capitulating and returning to scanning the endless passing streets. "Instead of driving... aimlessly?"

"What for?" He sounded throaty.

"To ask about." Vexed, she noted. 

Placing her hands on the door hinge after unbuckling, she pulled subtly. "We'll have a better chance of finding her that way."

"That won't do."

Amy creaked her head, burning holes at his irritating side profile, tempted to fling a fist. "My friend is in danger!"

"Haven't iterated it quite enough tonight, have you?" she heard him mutter—or, something along those lines—irking her.

"Why do you insist on being so recalcitrant! My friend could be in all sorts of danger but all you can think of is—"

Flying off the steering, his hand reached for her malleable limbs as the car hurled them both into a harsh whiplash; her body pushing especially hard against his forearm sans the protection of seatbelts. Equally doubling down were his tight muscles, contracting and working fervently against inertia to prevent even a slight collision with the dashboard. 

Amy's breath quickened by frightening degrees as Shadow's red eyes scanned robotically for any afflictions. Jolted back deep into her seat in the aftermath, her green-glossy pair flurried with panic staring back into his, filling him with a blood-thirsty rage of hunting down the wreckless bastard driving that white truck. 

He (or she) had abruptly cut into the lane when Shadow attempted speeding past the intersection, forcing him to apply emergency breaks. 

Good God... I've failed to look after her...

His vision grew red, arms shaky, and chest heavy. Every forbearance previously withholding him from loving the woman set before him dissolved at that moment. The times he wasted trying to convince himself to take it slow or that he would overwhelm her, to respect her wishes and not let her know of his demanding wants and feelings seemed like a very distant past. Things could've ended tonight, without ever holding her once... confessing his inner thought... kissing her senseless till he experienced a sort of unsatiable fill.

"My love," her eyes expanded freakishly when he snogged a kiss across her forehead. "That is the last thing we need tonight."

Too stunned to speak, all she managed was a hoarse "What?"

"People will surround us if we looked for Rouge by foot. And, contrary to popular belief, I can not fathom caring more about anyone else, needless to say, myself, than I do you." 

"Y-y-your..."

"Too close?" he planted another kiss on her cheek, minuscule inches from the richness of her full, plump lips; a once sinister inclination, seeming as intrinsic as breathing, overwhelming him. "I'm sorry."

"Shadow—"

"Rose," his lips started grazing hers; the texture, irresistible.

"Y-you're—"

"If... if you tell me otherwise, I will definitely—"

"You're bleeding, damn it!" 

Without thinking, she pushed him away, gathered herself before exiting the vehicle, taking large strides to his side short seconds later. "I'm driving now."

"Pardon?"

"I said I believe you, already." Helplessly dragged to the passenger seat, her intentions shone pristinely. "You like me"—a girlish peep rose in her voice when she had said it—"And though I can't return your feelings, I will not have you taking grenades for me! Absolutely never gonna happen, hear me!"