The Cupid Touch

The Cupid Touch Chapter 7 - Rainclouds

Ending up in a car with the one person I'd come out here to avoid was not welcome. And yet, of course, it being warm and not the-side-of-the-road-in-the-increasingly-cold-wind was actually very welcome indeed. The fact that it suddenly started tipping it down with rain while I stood there was just another factor. 

To clear any doubt up, I did try to avoid it. I gave him a tight smile, and said, "Yes, thank you, Joe-Moe. You can run along and be a white knight another day."

He squinted at me.

"Is that Helena?"

Which is when I realised that he hadn't recognised me. He'd just stopped because I was someone out and alone on a highway. And I might have gotten away with it if I'd just said, "Yes, thanks" like any other person. 

He turned off the engine and opened the door.

"Seriously," I said. "Did you not hear me say I'm ok?"

He gave a pointed look at the bike tyre, and raised an eyebrow.

"You have a puncture kit?"

I was so angry with him just then. I was angry with him for stopping, angry with him for caring, and angriest of all that he'd seen me vulnerable. It was impossible not to snap at him, even if it just made things worse for me.

"Of course I don't have a puncture kit! Do you think I'd be walking back to Boston if I did?"

"Right," he said, and approached me. I took a step backwards until I realised he was reaching out for the bike. 

"What are you doing?"

"Putting it in the back of the car," he said. "You go and sit in the passenger seat and get warm."

"I'm not sitting anywhere," I grumbled, half giving in and half resisting. 

It turned out that putting it in the back was actually pretty difficult. He had to put two of the back seats down, wedge the front wheel in the gap and then twist the handlebars. 

"Look, it's clearly too much trouble," I said, four or five times. I was having to hold my teeth clenched to stop the sound of them clacking together, but he didn't say a word. He just kept on pushing the bike gently in until eventually it gave. The trunk shut with a satisfying clunk, and he nodded.

"Come on."

He climbed back into the car, and I finally had to admit that I was beaten. I went to the passenger door and got in, huddling in the seat while he got the engine going and turned the blower on. It was a pretty old, pretty minimal kind of car but at least it had heating. 

"I have some dry kit in my bag," he said, as he pulled out onto the road. "It's only five minutes to a pretty good diner."

"I'm fine," I said, hunching my knees up against my chest. "Just take me home."

He gave a quiet laugh. 

"You know, it doesn't make you weak needing someone's help once in a while."

I didn't have a smart reply, so I sat and shivered for five minutes until he stopped at the diner, which looked so brightly-lit and warm that it was like an oasis in the night. But going in meant eating with him. It meant talking further with him, and letting him past more of my defences. It would be a mistake. If he wanted to talk about weakness, that would have been weakness.

"Well I'm going in," he said, as I sat in mulish silence. 

I'd like to pretend that it was only the cold that made me follow him inside. It was definitely a strong motivating factor. But the way he quietly picked up his kitbag from the back seat in case I needed it meant something to me, and he pulled at me as much as the lights and the warmth.