[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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July 2007
MARK
I'm not a violent person. Unless you're Joel Jennings. Then I can make an exception.
"You shouldn't have done that." Zoe folds a half-empty bag of frozen peas over my reddened knuckles.
Kneeling in front of me in our living room, her lips are pinched into a flat line, brow creased. I'd like to think it's concentration on tending to my battle wounds, but it's more likely displeasure at me battling in the first place.
"He shouldn't have touched you, then," I say.
It's as simple as that. She doesn't seem to agree for some reason. Then again, I did warn her that celebrating her graduation with her old friends was a bad idea, and her only solution involved bringing me along for moral support. She probably doesn't want to admit I was right.
"He was drunk."
"And that's an excuse?" I raise an eyebrow. Zoe isn't stupid—she can't seriously think alcohol is a get-out-of-jail-free card.
She shrugs and stands up, then perches on the armchair opposite. One leg swings over the other. Her thumb slips between her lips to nibble.
"I can handle JJ."
"It didn't seem that way."
Annoyance storms through her eyes. Maybe that was cold of me. Still true, though. Zoe lives in a world of fluffy idealism. She sees the best in people. That's admirable but puts her at risk of being taken advantage of.
"Violence isn't the answer, Mark." Pink colours her cheeks, and now she can't even meet my eye. It only proves my point. If she can't stand up to her closest friend, what chance does she have with dickheads like Joel?
"Maybe not." I shrug. "Felt good, though."
"Don't joke."
"I'm not. He put his hand somewhere you didn't want it. I put my fist somewhere he didn't want it. Seems fair to me."
Judging by how quickly he hit the ground, nobody has ever punched him before. That's a mystery in itself.
She sits back in the chair with a weary sigh. Her skirt rides up to expose the same patch of bare flesh that Joel grabbed earlier, and a fresh bout of rage pummels me.
"If it makes you feel better, that's the first time I've punched someone."
"Why would that make me feel better?"
"Because I'm not a violent person."
She rolls her eyes. "I already know that, and yet my ex was the one to bring it out of you."
"You're giving him too much credit." I slide my hand out of the frozen packet and flex my knuckles. "Emotions got the better of me, that's all."
I can't admit that I lashed out through protectiveness. She'll find a way to blame herself for it.
