Don't Talk to Strangers

XVI

So I was going to do English homework... but then this happened.

I could taste the salt on his lips. It made me shiver, leaning more into him. My whole body had gone numb, just my fingertips tingling and my lips warm with motion.

I felt responsible for him, I realized. He was much weaker than he liked to pretend. If I let him go, if I abandoned him like I'd planned to, I knew he'd be crushed. I couldn't not try to save him when I had the chance. Not now.

We stayed like that for a while—I couldn't keep track of how long—just me, leaning forward just enough so that it didn't hurt, and him, curled over me with his arm by my neck. I could've stayed there for much longer, admittedly, had it not been for his arm slipping and landing on the raw point on my side.

I gasped, jerking away. My hands flew to my side, but I could only press around the wound, trying to soothe the fire. It was like he'd rubbed barbed wire over my skin, or dragged sandpaper through my veins. I licked my lips, trying to taste the salt again.

Dan had leapt back too, not crying anymore. He looked just as shell-shocked as I probably did. "Cas—!" he stuttered. "I'm so sorry!"

I was getting tired of hearing that.

"It's fine..." I breathed, my cheeks starting to burn as the initial shock faded. "Just... the, er, cloth? I mean... bandage. They're in the closet."

Dan nodded awkwardly and jetted down the hall, opening three closets before coming back with the bandage. He'd also brought disinfectant. I smiled gratefully and started working. It stung really bad as I first put the disinfectant on, and I worried I wasn't doing the right thing. What did I know about bullet wounds?

It took about ten minutes and three bandages to get it right—or as right as I hoped it was—and I collapsed against the couch when I was done. I took long, deep breaths, trying to tell myself to calm down.

"Cassie..." Dan breathed. He'd been silent for the entire time I'd worked, sitting a few feet away from me and looking at the floor. 

I swallowed. "Dan," I said quietly. "I..." I shook my head, trying to form a thought. "The gun—Can you take care of it, or would you rather I—?"

"No, no, no!" he insisted, getting up. "I've got it." He stepped over, picking up the gun from where it'd fallen.

He fingered it in his hands, turning it over and running his hands along it, staring at it thoughtfully. I tensed, getting worried as the seconds dragged on. Then he seemed to break the trance and he tucked it inside his coat, throwing me a small, reassuring smile.

I let out my breath, returning the smile, and looking away. My cheeks started to burn as we sat in silence, wanting desperately for him to leave.

But I couldn't help wanting him to kiss me again.

What is wrong with me? I screamed in my head. I can't believe I'd want that... He nearly killed me, kidnapped me and flipped my life upside over. I've got to straighten things out. I can't let this—

The thought didn't finish, dissipating like a cloud of vapor as Dan spoke. "So," he murmured. "Business?" 

Despite my efforts, a small grin cracked on my face, remembering the morning in his house. How far we'd come from then, though it was only a day. I'd give anything to go back to then.