Wrong Guy

09 | little hint of something

Episode Nine :
LITTLE HINT OF SOMETHING

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E L L I O T T ' S P O V :

It had been a total of seven hours of driving around town before I found her wandering the same sidewalks I'd seen her last night. Except this time, she was on the verge of tears, her hair a mess from the wind, and shoe laces untied as she trudged through the cold.

What happened?

That was the first thing that ran through my mind, when I saw Fawn looking the way she did. Then the second thing I thought about was why it concerned me. It didn't, it shouldn't have. But that didn't stop me from stepping outside of the car in nothing but my pajamas for the whole city to see if they wished. I asked her what had happened, telling myself it was out of curiosity not concern before she ran into me.

It happened in an instant. The tears soaking through my disgustingly old cotton shirt, the cries muffled by my chest, her fingers latching onto my collar for support. When my arms settled around her, when my head rested on top of hers – it didn't mean anything.

What kind of man would I be if I didn't comfort her? I assured myself, despite my grip growing around her, and my mouth now settled on the top of her head. She didn't seem to notice, she just kept crying.

"Fawn," I whisper, she lifts her head slowly after being addressed, eyes red and puffy – still adjusting to the brightness of the world beyond my shoulder.

"Yeah, do you want me to get off. I c-can – I'm sorry."

"No, no, no." No. "Just, what happened?" She bites her lip, gnaws on the side of her mouth before croaking out a response.

"I don't – I d-don't want to share." She squeaks, still squeezing my shoulder blade with a death grip. The girl has yet to let go, she needs something to hold onto, to keep her grounded.

"Fawn," This is Fawn. God, why do I care so much? Why am I even trying right now. I was an idiot to leave the group, I should've just told them to begin with! I control my thoughts and try to not let my own emotions get the best of me. Not ask the questions I want to ask.

Where were you?

What did you do with him?

Did he hurt you? Touch you?

She would only scold me if I asked such personal questions, asked her what really happened when no one was around. I knew she wouldn't, because I was Elliott Mass and she was Fawn Lockhart, the water and oil of people.

That's how things worked, if we ever came close she'd push away before things got mixed between us. Unspoken lines would always be drawn on the pavement before us, lines we'd never crossed –and up until now – never wanted to cross. I don't know what would happened if someone took that step over, but I know nothing good.

Not with Lawrence Briggs around the corner. Lawrence Briggs ; son of a multi-millionaire, and the heir of high class politicians. Lawrence Briggs who owned a fancy Corvette and now – Fawn. Not with him.

You don't cross the line.

"Where a-are my p-parents?" Fawn's eyes reflect the new morning's pink tinted light, and release tears that trail down her face to reach quivering lips. I keep her close to me as her body shakes. I can hear her heart pounding – I can feel her heart pounding.