bouncer ☓ h.s.

2. the house

"Anytime, love." 

His heart beats thunderously against my ear. It pounds in time with my own, and I count every beat. We stay in the same position for a few moments, neither of us speaking. My breathing slows gradually, the tears stop flowing. I know he is being polite, just holding me until I pull myself together. The gesture is appreciated, nonetheless, and I savor his warmth on the cold night. 

A shiver raises goosebumps on my skin, and he moves his hands to rub my arms. His deep voice breaks the silence. "Did he hurt you?" Not trusting my own voice, I slowly nod. My arm still throbs from the tight grip, there are visible finger marks on my skin. I know I scrapped my elbow when I was thrown to the ground, and I also have a headache. Gently, the stranger steps away. He looks at my arm, lightly brushing the bruises with his own fingers. I shiver slightly, though not from the breeze. "You're cold," he says. I feel the nighttime breeze chilling me to the bone through my thin sweatpants and t-shirt. He is not wearing a jacket, and looks at his plain black shirt. "You need to get out of this weather. Are you okay to drive?" I look down at Ray. "Don't worry about him, the police can take him home." I meet his green-eyed gaze, and he pulls his dark curls out of his eyes.

My cheeks flush a bright red, and I look down at my shoes. "I may as well take him," I begin. "We live together." The two of us share a small apartment not far from the bar, probably a few blocks. It's quaint, and Ray's income pays for it. He always insisted that it was both of our's, though I doubt I'd be welcomed back. 

"No." The stranger speaks up suddenly, breaking my train of thought. He spoke so low, I'm not sure if I hear him correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"You're not going back with him. It'll just be worse when the two of you are alone."

It surprises me that he's become so involved in my well being. Sure, he did help me. He was only the bouncer, it was his job to save me. But afterwords he had no obligations. I was safe, Ray was handled, and that was the end of it.

He is just trying to be polite, and I find it sweet. Of course I'm terrified to be alone with Ray when he does come to, but I don't have any other option. My parents are away with another couple on vacation, and I don't have any money on me. I'm an intern, and my simple job doesn't pay for much more than my car insurance. I feel embarrassed at the situation; I have no where to go.

"You can stay with me tonight at mine, until you can get ahold of someone." The offer is extremely unexpected, as if he had literally read my mind. As admittedly attractive as this man was- and he was gorgeous- I couldn't go anywhere with him. His handsome exterior was welcoming and oddly trusting, but that meant nothing. He was still a stranger. The horror stories I've heard of leaving with strangers has traumatized me enough. So many things could go wrong. 

I meet his emerald gaze, my cheeks flushing. I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand.  "Really, it's alright. Hopefully he'll. . . forget about it in the morning." 

"He won't."

"You're so sure of this. What if he has, I don't know, short-term-memory-loss, or something? I mean, you hit him hard enough."

Expecting a hint of a laugh, I clear my throat to fill the silence when I don't hear one. 

"I've done that enough times to know that he'll definitely remember it in the morning," he says roughly. British. His pronounced accent, so deep and rough is now not just comforting but extremely attractive as well, already adding to his looks. Maybe he is sincere. There are plenty of nice people in the world. This foreign stranger could certainly be one of them. 

"Look," he begins. Before he speaks again, he takes a deep breath, calming himself down."If you don't trust me, I'm sure the bar has some kind of file on me. Want to see my records? Squeaky-clean, I can assure you." As much as I honestly do want to see what the bar has on him, I can't appear frightened. "No, I believe you."