Actually, I asked if she wanted, and then she squealed an enthusiastic YES before I could even finish my invitation. How she knew I wasn’t about to ask if she’d like to partake some Helter Skelter, I have no idea. My guess is she would’ve said yes to that too, as long as I promised to kiss her a few times first.
The truth of the matter is that there’s only one girl I actively can’t stop thinking about, and it’s not little Karlie in her way-too-short dress and way-too-high heels.
Alex Mackenzie is ducking me. I blame myself, really. I knew she was a flight-risk, and I called her fifty-million times, then texted her seventy-billion times. I obviously came on too strong, which is the more startling and befuddling thing here, because I don’t do stuff like that.
I’m Noah Richards. Mr. Cucumber, first name: Cool As A.
I don’t obsessively call girls. I barely even call them at all. Usually they call me. My phone is the one blowing up, not the one doing the blowing.
So what the fuck is going on?
How the hell has Alex managed to wedge herself into my brain like this? Because she’s there right now… Sitting snugly between my hypothalamus and my amygdala.
I do like the chase. All of my recent experiences with women feel less like a hunt and more like a drive-thru window. That could be why I’m so drawn to Alex. Because she didn’t give in the second I said hello.
Or maybe it’s because of her.
Sigh. Alex… With her big green eyes, long, dark hair and all those tattoos; her cute little nose ring and sexy pillowed lips; her timid looks and witty responses, and her laugh so refreshing it made me feel like I stuck my head out the window of a moving vehicle when I got to hear it.
Her smell… Like ripe fruit and sweet baked goods. Equally mouthwatering as the smell of cookies in this shop. I can almost smell her right now…
Actually, I can smell her right now. That’s weird.
My mind springs back into focus from the sound of the bell on the door that just dinged, the cool air bursting in from outside, signaling that someone else has walked in.
What’s her face is still preoccupied, blabbing at the guy behind the counter about gluten-free something when I hear a hopefully familiar voice mutter a curse behind me.
I turn fast and my heart jolts. Alex!
Oh my God, calm the fuck down.
“Hey,” I chirp, grinning way too big.
Not that I ever could have forgotten how gorgeous she is, but it’s been almost a week since I saw her perfect face, and now that she’s here, standing in front of me, I’m practically breathless. On a scale of one to ten, she’s a crisp Benjamin.
“Noah… Hi…” she squeaks, not at all looking or sounding as excited as I am that we’ve been reunited. She’s tilting her face away from me, unable to look me in the eye.
“I haven’t heard from you…” I snake my neck around to catch her gaze, but she’s going through a lot of trouble to turn away from me. Actually, she looks like she’s about to run out the door. And I’m fully prepared to chase her again.
Based on recent events, I think that much is clear.
Kelsey, having forfeited her pointless conversation with the cookie guy and is now paying more attention to me, grabs me by the arm and smooshes herself up to my side, running her fingers up my chest in an obnoxious display of forced affection.
“Oh, hi,” she drawls with a fake smile on her injected lips. “Noah, who’s this?”
Her jealousy is off-putting. We’re not a couple… I just met her an hour ago.
The benefit of her trying to mark her territory is that it causes Alex’s head to pop up, her gaze locking on me and the blonde girl. Her eyes are wide, and she looks slightly crushed that I’m here with someone.
But I can’t enjoy it. Not one bit.
Because now I have a full view of Alex’s face. And I see something that makes every fiber of my insides burn with anger and confusion.
There’s a pretty significant bruise beneath her left eye.
It’s on her cheekbone; a black and blue mark, painted with some cover-up, but still visible. A bruise on her perfect face… A symbol of hurt on the girl I like.
I feel fucking murderous.
It’s not actually that big. But it’s big enough for me to see it, and obviously for her to feel the need to hide it from me.
“Noah, baby…” the ditz who’s feeling me up speaks again, but I’m not listening at all.
I’m just staring down at Alex with a ringing in my ears.
My mouth drops open, but I can’t formulate words. I lock my wide eyes on Alex, conveying the hurt that I’m feeling for her. And the hurt I’m going to inflict on someone else…
Alex picks up on what I’m seeing and that, mixed with what I think is some light jealousy over seeing me with this girl, though I can’t be sure, prompts her to turn fast and whip the door open even faster. She stumbles outside, and of course, I go after her, ignoring what’s-her-face who’s shrilling behind me.
Alex is almost running to get away from me, but I jog up to her. Just as I’m about to grab her by the arm, I remember the bruises from the other day, paired with her pained expression, and I stop myself, blood rushing in my ears from how fucking enraged I am.
These are too many bruises for regular slip-n-fall accidents. I don’t care how clumsy she is.
I’m not a fucking idiot. Someone’s hitting her. And I’m willing to bet who that someone is.
Someone’s going to be very dead, very soon.
I dive in front of Alex and she’s forced to stop short, though she crashes into my chest a little, her face aimed straight down. I hold onto her back gently to stop her from leaving again.
“Alex, what the fuck?” I pant, out of breath, but not from running. From being so angry I can barely see straight.
She says nothing, nor does she pull away from me. She just breathes heavy, huffing with her fists balled and resting on my chest. Unaware I’m even doing it, my fingers trail softly up her back and I run them through the ends of her smooth hair, like dark silk in my hands.
“What happened?” I beg, just wanting her to talk to me. I put my murder-plans aside and focus on her, because I need her to be okay. “Tell me, Alex. Talk to me, beautiful.”
She sniffles and my heart shatters like a pane of glass as she rests her head gently over where it’s thudding in my chest, collapsing into me. Her arms wrap tightly around my waist as her body breaks into trembles. I think she’s crying, but she’s doing it silently, likely trying to hold herself together. I don’t know her that well, but I can already tell that her strength could move mountains.
Why the fuck is she letting someone hurt her?
I can’t even pretend to understand something like this. I’ve never known anyone who’s suffered from domestic abuse. All I know is what I’ve seen on TV, like on Dr. Phil. The victims often say leaving isn’t as easy as people make it seem, and now that I’m just about positive Alex is being abused by her husband, I don’t doubt that one bit. Because she’s so smart and awesome; a badass, sweet, funny artist girl, who must be in over her head.
My heart is breaking so hard for her. Not even just my heart… My whole body. I’m being reduced to a pile of rubble on the sidewalk.
I swallow hard over the growing lump of helplessness in my throat and hold her small frame against me, rocking her slowly, kissing her hair while she shakes in my arms.