I Just Want You to Know Who I Am | shiver fanfic

Chapter Six

Isabel.

My boots crunch on the asphalt as Grace and I make our way to the seemingly abandoned vehicle not too far behind my car, me a couple paces in front of Grace. Dark gray fumes leak from the hood, and black smoke spurts out every few seconds from the engine, as if it's trying to start itself, unsuccessfully, at that.

I stop in the front of the car, kicking the tire with the toe of my high heeled boot. "You see who's in there. It might be some creep."

Grace sighs and peeks into the drivers window, then looks at me, alarm on her face. "It's a guy, he looks unconscious!"

I squint into the window, and see a boy, who looks about eighteen years old. Black hair falls over his face in a messy mop, and he seems to be struggling to breathe.

I fish my cell phone out of my pockets. "Should I call 911, or something?"

At my voice, the boy's eyes fly open, revealing a pair of gold irises. Gold eyes? Those are a thing? I didn't know people still bought colored contacts.

The dude's eyes rest on Grace, but she isn't paying attention, her eyes on me. "I don't know.." she sounds defeated.

I yank on the handle of his door, and he flinches at the sound. The car reeks of some weird scent that I can't quite place. "Is sitting stranded on the side of the road a hobby of yours, or...?" I cock an eyebrow at him, resting my hands on my hips. He blinks at me a few times, as if I'm speaking Portuguese, or something, then runs a hand down his face, as if composing himself.

"I-I'm fine." his voice is strangled, as if my words had been scissors cutting off his vocal cords.

"Look, dude, I didn't stop to smell the frost-bitten roses, okay? You reek like you're a decaying body and look like you're going to toss all the shit in your stomach out into the universe." I say impatiently. I turn to Grace. "C'mon, Grace, he doesn't need us, obviously."

Grace looks at the guy, and something changes in her face, the way she stands. Her eyebrows pull together as the two lock gazes, and neither of them look away for a minute. I glance back and forth between the two, waiting for them to exchange words, something, to explain the confused look she's giving him and the dopey eyed look he's giving her.

"Am I ruining a moment, or what?" I flail my arms in the air, one hundred percent done with this situation. "Grace, let's go."

"We have to help him." her tone is the Determined-Grace tone, the one that only occurs when she means business. There's no turning back now. I don't suppress the groan, however rude it might be, but the guy's gaze doesn't leave Grace. He looks awestruck, like Jesus had descended from the heavens to go take him to play on the magical harp in the sky.

"W-hat do you want us to do?" Grace's voice cracks, but she recovers her sentence, squatting down slightly to be at eye level with the driver.

"I need to be-be w-arm." he forces the words through clenched teeth.

"I second that. I could really go for a coffee." I say.

"Isabel." Grace hisses, then turns back to the car. "Let's take him to my place." Grace concludes. "Can you stand?" she asks.

The guy looks unsure, looking as though he'd rather chop off his left testicle then go outside of his car as he looks at us through cloudy eyeballs. He nods reluctantly, dangling his legs out into the open, looking like the movement physically pains him.

"Let's help him," Grace tells me, and she grabs one of his arms, and I grab the other, nose wrinkling at the woodsy-stench radiating off of him.

"I hope I don't catch whatever disease this loser might have." I threaten.

Grace exhales an annoyed breath as she slams the car door shut with her foot, and we help the guy walk to our car, his grip tightening on both of us as a breeze blows against our faces, his jaw clenched, as if fighting something off.

We practically throw him into the backseat, where he curls his knees to his chest, breathing heavily. Grace and I exchange a worried glance, and she hops in the passenger seat, me in the drivers seat, and I floor it.

I glance in the rear-view mirror, although I can't see him through it. "Can I at least get a name, Strange-Weirdo-In-My-Car?"

There is a moment of hesitance. "Sam." he breathes.

***

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