Fate Interrupted

24. Turning Point

Gio

We drive to her apartment in silence, my body tense, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, placed in control at ten and two. Ren, safely cocooned in the rich blackness of my car's leather interior, has her head turned away, but the profile of her face is outlined in the moonlight. She's zoning out. Her gaze fixed out the window into the forested darkness of the park as we, and the road, traverse its edge.

The first two knuckles on my right hand are scraped up and bloody. Blood from his nose for sure, but it also got cut on that fucks tooth when I hit him in the mouth. The pain hasn't kicked in yet—it's probably just all the adrenaline still kicking around, but I think it's probably Ren's proximity, too.

My heart is still pounding like a war drum, and I feel like I'd be able to flip a car or punch through a brick wall right now if I had to for her. My head feels clear even though I got sucker punched. My vision blacked out for a second, but my rage took over after that—I'm just glad I didn't break my hand like the last time I threw a punch at someone.

When I was twenty-one, drunk, and as high as a kite, I got dragged out of a bar by a bouncer. He pissed me off, and I thought I was invincible. I ended up hitting him right in the forehead as he ducked and consequently fractured my pinky metacarpal bone (the thin one in your palm.) That fucking suuucked. Anyway, Adam taught me how to actually throw a punch, and where, after that.

As I prepare to make the turn onto her street, I see her gaze fall to my bloodied hand as I downshift. I must look like hell to her right now. My car tips over the driveway of her apartment complex and purrs over to a stop in the guest parking area. We linger in the car for a moment, the engine idling.

What do I do now? 

She won't make eye contact with me, and I'm not sure what comes next—I haven't really thought that far ahead, but it looks like she's shivering, and I can't imagine leaving her. Not now. I've been such an fucking idiot.  No one other guy seems to get how precious she is. If I'd been too late—if I hadn't picked up her call. A shudder runs down my back when I think about what almost happened to her. I would have never forgiven myself. 

My throat is dry as I try to speak, "Can I walk you upstairs?"

She turns her head but keeps her eyes lowered to my cheek. "Um, okay. You could... come in and use the bathroom... if you want. Clean your face up a bit."

"Is it bad?" I ask softly.

"It doesn't look too bad," she murmurs, but her face tells a different story. "Does it hurt?" she asks, flicking her eyes to mine.

The electric energy of us completes its circuit, and the charge pulses powerfully between us now, slowly drawing me as if by invisible tethers ever closer to her. My breath catches as her face is now just a foot from mine, and suddenly, it's a little harder to breathe.

"A little," my voice rasps. And suddenly, I know. I know it in my soul, and I have to suck in air to cope with the decision. Then, I exhale sharply, flicking my eyes away to break the current. 

Not here.

I open the car door and get out, and before I can get her door, she follows suit, exiting the car into the crisp, cool midnight air. The headlights flick once as I lock it.

The black light poles cast warm yellow pools of light onto the walkway as it winds its path for us through the wide and carefully clipped lawns to her building. Our soft footfalls are the only sound as I follow her quietly up the exterior concrete stairs, lit by a harsh bluish fluorescent light, to her front door. All I can hear is a small jingling sound as she fumbles with her keys and almost drops them.