The Road Less Traveled (Editing)

Chapter 8

Some Nights by Fun
With You Around by Yellowcard
We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow by SOKO
Start a Fire by Ryan Star

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   We arrived at the parking garage, and the sporty little red Chevy from earlier was idling on the street outside it.
   "That's Noah," Iris said, turning to me, "you good to ride with Hero? Noah's truck only has the two seats." She explained.
   "Yeah, we'll be fine, I promise our elbows won't even touch on the center console." Hero said sarcastically. Back to his charming self, I noted.
    Harrison and Dani were on the first floor of the parking garage, and we split off with hugs and promises of texts when we got home. As Hero and I turned away to go up the steps, an awkward silence fell between us, and I didn't know how to broach it.
    "Sooooo," He said, and I cringed, expecting some sharp comment or witty barb.
    "So what?" I said resigned for his teasing.
    "Nice night up until then?" He asked and I stopped, looked at him, and broke into hysterical laughter. I laughed so hard I had to sit down on the steps in the stairwell.
    "What's so funny?" Hero asked, looking bewildered and just a little alarmed.
    "What's so funny?" I cackled, then bit my lip trying to reign it back in. "I'm sorry," I said choking back giggles, "I'm not having a mental breakdown, promise, although God knows I'm close," I said snorting with my hand over my mouth, "but you've just seen a soap opera worthy moment of my life, and you ask 'how was the rest of the night?', really?"
   "Well, how was it?" Hero asked, leaning against the hand railing.
   I thought about it. "Pretty damn good actually." I said, amazing myself.
   "Alright, so don't let the fuck nugget take fifteen minutes of your night and let it ruin the other six hours of it. We're gonna enjoy the last twenty-five minutes of the evening. Deal?" Hero said, giving me a hand to pull me to my feet.
    I looked at him, a bit amazed. "Deal."
    I chewed my lip. I had only known Hero for two days, technically three since it was now Sunday morning, but I was coming to realize that I had made a snap judgement, and I felt guilty. I was still a stranger to him, but he was kind enough to help me when I needed it. I nodded to myself, making up my mind to turn over a new leaf with him. He was sarcastic, sure, but I hadn't ever felt unsafe around him. Besides, if Dani and Noah liked him and trusted him, he couldn't be a bad guy. He hadn't given me any evidence to the contrary, and I decided to extend a tentative branch of friendship towards him from now on.
   We continued up the stairwell, exiting on our level and stepping out into the garage, the awkward tension between us lessened by my outburst. "Which one is yours?" I asked glancing at the assorted cars.
    "That one," He said pointing to a matte black 1967 impala.
    "You're joking. Are your parents loaded or something? This is a classic!" I gushed. I'm not super into cars or anything, but the American muscle cars are just so damn sexy it's impossible not to be into them.
    "No," He said flatly, rolling his eyes. "It was a piece of shit when I bought it. Every penny I've ever earned has gone into either guitars or my car." I nodded, filing that fact away for a later time.
    He surprised me by walking me around to the passenger side and opening the door for me. I slid in and he walked around to the drivers side, sliding into the seat.
   "I'm not so drunk I can't open my car door." I pointed out.
   "You're definitely drunk, but I opened the door cause it's polite, you heathen." Hero said sarcastically.
   "Such a gentleman." I laughed as I pulled out my phone, dialing home.
    "Oh, no you don't." Hero said, leaning over and snatching my phone from my hand.
    "Hey! Give that back! I'm calling my parents!" I exclaimed, trying to crawl across the seat and wrestling with Hero as he leaned as far away in the cab of the car as possible, pushing me back with one arm as he held my silver iPhone out of reach. "You're gonna break it! Give it back!"
   "Virginia, it's two in the morning, you can call your parents in six hours when you've slept off some of the booze. I can smell your hurricanes from here!" He said shoving my phone down his pants.
   "If you think I won't go after it just because you put it down your pants, you are sadly mistaken." I grumped.
    He laughed, "Oh, I hope you will." He winked and leered at me comically. "Try me." He said leaning back and exposing his lap.
   I sulked, feeling a flush spread across my face and feeling annoyed he'd called my bluff, and threw myself back in the seat. "Perv." I grumbled.
    "You're the one threatening to reach down my pants." He pointed out smugly.
   I flipped him the bird.
   "That's what I thought." He turned to look at me and waited.
   "What?" I asked, feeling awkward under his gaze.
   "Seatbelt?" He said in an are-you-stupid tone.
   "Oh right," I said, as I reached back and pulled the belt over me, clicking it into its heavy slot.
    "Thank you, ma'am." He said starting the car. He reached one arm back, resting his hand on my head rest as he twisted to look over his shoulder. His bicep rippled as he used his arm to lever himself up to look behind the impala. I looked down at my lap, blushing. Get it together Virginia. As Hero paid for parking, I leaned back in the seat, glad his windows were heavily tinted.
   "So," I said, as we pulled out of the parking garage.
   "So what?" Hero said glancing at me.
   "You don't have to be nice to me just because you feel sorry for me." I said, awkwardly playing with the rings I always wore.
   "I'm not being nice to you out of pity so hop off your soap box drama queen." Hero said sharply, but not cruelly.
   I smiled a little. "Somehow I don't believe you."
   "Okay," he admitted, "I am being nice to you out of pity, but only like five percent why. The other ninety-five percent is cause I feel like being fucking nice so appreciate it."
   "Tone back the attitude tough guy, it's just you and me." I said rolling my eyes.
   "Gotta maintain the bad boy attitude." He smirked. I studied him. He was too attractive for his own good and he knew it.
   "Where'd you learn to dance?" I asked curiously.
   "My grandma actually." He said, and I giggled.
   "What?" He said grumpily.
   "Your grandmother taught you bachata?"
   "Yours didn't?" He joked, faking confusion.
   "No," I laughed, "mine made cookies like every other grandma ever."
   "You missed out then. Mine was a ballroom dance teacher. Picked up some stuff over the years."
  "So, dad taught you guitar, grandma taught you dance, what did mom teach you?" I asked. He snorted cynically, "How to suck at parenting. She bailed on us. Couldn't handle my brothers and I." He shrugged.
   "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." I said feeling like punching myself in the face. Why couldn't I ever say the right thing with this guy?
   "Don't be. I'm not. I still see her sometimes and I don't hate her or anything. She just wasn't cut out for the parenting thing. It happens, I guess. But that's why my grandma stepped up." He explained, relaxed.
   "Sorry for all the deep personal sharing time." I said, groaning.
   "Quid pro quo." He said, his teeth flashing in the light from the dashboard.
   "Uh, childhood trauma versus crazy ex boyfriend? I think crazy ex boyfriend carries more weight." I protested. I'd already shared enough with him tonight.
   "You can call him a 'stalker', you know that right? 'Cause that's what he is." Hero said seriously.
   "I haven't heard anyone put it that blunt since court."
   "Ha, you said 'blunt'." Hero sniggered.
   "Oh my God," I groaned, leaning over to punch his shoulder, "would you grow up?"
   "I am a grown ass man already, I don't need to grow up."
   I leaned in close to him over the center console, staring him in the eyes. "What are you doing?" He said, leaning away uncomfortably.
   "Trying to make sure your eyes aren't actually brown, cause you're full of shit."
   Hero threw back his head and laughed.
   "That was actually the first decent joke I've ever heard you make."
   "That's because you're always running your mouth. I'm hilarious." I huffed, leaning back into my seat and crossing my arms.
   "So, rockstar, dancer, rescuer of damsels in distress, is there anything you can't do?" I asked, relaxing as the city lights flashed by outside the car window.
   "Fly. Breathe underwater." He admitted, deadpan.
   "That doesn't count!" I complained.
   "Can't let you know all my secrets can I?" He said grinning.
   "Have it your way." I said amicably. The alcohol was wearing off, and I was exhausted by the dancing and the emotional turmoil of the evening. I leaned back in the seat, rubbing at my eyes tiredly.
   "You all good? Or do I need to pull over so you can have an anxiety attack or throw up or whatever it is women do." Hero said, sounding anxious.
   "You're such a dick. I'm just tired."
   "Obviously you're tired if you're confusing having a dick with being a dick."
   "Uh-huh."
   I didn't really think he was a dick. Not anymore. I don't know when the shift in how I felt about Hero happened. Maybe when his arm had wrapped around my waist and he pulled me away from Ian. Maybe it was when we danced together. Maybe it was when I decided to be friendly with him. Oh, I still thought he was a cocky bastard that talked too much crap, but I didn't genuinely believe he was a total dick anymore. We stopped at a light, idling in comfortable silence.

Hero glanced at me. "Not to pry, but how long have you been dealing with that fucker?"
   "Language," I said mildly. I picked at the hem of my dress. Hero had shown me that he was trustworthy, and he had gone out of his way to help me out. I could probably share a bit of my story with him.
   "I'm waiting." Hero said, reading me well enough to know it was okay to tease me a little.
   "I started dating him a few weeks into my freshman year. We dated eight months. He was already a controlling, manipulative, abusive son of a bitch then, and I broke it off." I said, fingering the scar in my eyebrow. I dropped my hand, glancing at Hero as he fixed his eyes on the road. "So, since the break up, eleven months. Since the court order of protection twelve months." I sighed, saddened by how much time Ian had stolen from me.Hero gave a long low whistle. "Well, hopefully he'll fuck off after tonight. We certainly put on a show."
   "Yeah, I guess we did." I said uneasily. Would it discourage him or set him off even worse?
   "Remember what I said about not letting him ruin your night?"
   "Yes."
   "You're letting him."

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A/N: Hmmmm seems like Hero is getting pretty good at reading Virginia. Wonder what will happen next ;)