The Ambiguous Life of Anonymous

Chapter 2

“I thought you were a red head?” he says, looking confused. I think it’s the most her said since he picked me up from the airport with Carson.

“I washed the dye out!” I say, frustrated and for some reason wanting to keep the wig in my satchel a secret. Other than my contacts, it was the closest thing I had to a disguise. “Why did you attack me?”

He furrows his eyebrows and scoffs. “You attacked me! I was just minding my business in my own house when you decided to throw my poor nose a sucker punch! By the way, where did you learn to fight like that?”

I feel a little stupid now. “But I heard the front door slam! And it was really quite!” I whine.

He raises his eyebrows, but luckily doesn’t point out the flaws in my thinking. “Carson got an emergency call from one of our close friends and he had to go hurry and leave. He told me to take you shopping since he told you he would take you.”

I realize that he’s still on top of me at the same time he does, and he jumps off, blushing slightly. I adjust my towel dress and get up, grimacing when I feel pain at the back of my head. He must have noticed, because he frowns and takes a step closer. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Did I hurt you?”

I’ve had way worse injuries, and this is really nothing. “I’m fine,” I say, trying to take the guilty look off his face. I want to question his karate skills as well, but bringing them up will only remind him to question mine again.

Still he walks to the kitchen and hands me a couple ibeoprophin tablets and a glass of water. I notice my vision finally sharpening and swallow the tablets. I take a closer look at him, remembering exactly where I hit him. His nose is bleeding and I yank up his shirt where a bruise is already starting to form. I let the material drop. For the first time, I feel bad about hurting someone.

“Sorry,” I say, wiping the blood from his nose. He acts strong, but I can see him wincing slightly as I barely touch his nose with the cloth I grabbed off the counter. “Where’s your first aid kit?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he says, mimicking what I said before, but I look through the kitchen cabinets anyways until I find it. I move to treat his stomach and nose, but he starts to take it from me. “Here, I can do it.” I pull the supplies from his reach and start again. I expertly treat his injuries, and he even seems a little surprised at how I’m managing it. I think he’ll ask more questions about my sudden skills, but he doesn’t. He just sits there patiently waiting for me to finish.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just a little on edge.” He nods, but doesn’t question me further, and I appreciate that. I throw away all the dirty tissues and pack up the equipment to find him staring at me. “What?”

Instead of looking away, he just keeps staring, squinting his brown eyes in concentration. “Just…this is the first time I’ve seem you up close. You look…familiar.”

It’s highly unlikely that he’s met me before this because I’m constantly on the move, and besides, I’m always in disguise. I shake my head. “No, probably not.”