Which is making a very long story short, but Jesus on a toast, I need to get out of this rain and sit down somewhere, take the weight off my leg before I keel over.
“Oh man.” She shifts from foot to foot and bites her lip. Shouldn’t be so distracting, dammit. “You do you have an elevator at your place, right?”
“Nope.”
“You don’t…?” She gapes at me. “Then can I call your roommate to come pick you up?”
“Don’t have one. Roommate, that is. Not yet.”
Maybe not ever. The last one who came by to see the place never called back. Still hoping, though.
“I can’t leave you like this,” she whispers.
“Sure you can.” I plaster on my brightest smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“No. I’m serious. I feel so bad about this.” She rubs her hands up and down her bare arms. “Why don’t you come over to my place?”
I blink at her, the rain water stinging my eyes. “What?”
Brilliant response. That’s me, the brilliant conversationalist. And probably also in need of a hearing aid, because she can’t have said—
“Come over to my place. It’s close by, and the elevator works. You can dry yourself, I’ll make you something to eat, and we can check your leg and your hands. You’re bleeding.”
I am? I unclench my hand, turn it palm-up, stare at it. Oh yeah. I am. Skinned my palms and probably my shins, too.
Joy.
“You sure?” It sure is tempting—for oh-so-many reasons. My teeth are chattering, my stomach is rumbling with hunger, and avoiding the stairs sounds like a fucking wet dream. Not to mention—her place. Manon’s place. She’ll be there. “I’ll make a mess in your apartment.”
She tsks and waves toward her car, parked at the curbside. “Don’t expect anything fancy or tidy. This is a fair warning. It’s more like a war-zone, really.”
Hard to believe. Can’t be worse than my place.
But I don’t care. I wouldn’t mind entering a fucking war-zone if it meant seeing her, talking to her for a while longer.
Which is fucked-up. I know, okay? I’m the biggest idiot in the world. She didn’t even remember me, doesn’t know a thing about me—and if she ever finds out about my past… I’ll never see her again.
So yeah. Laugh all you want. I don’t fucking care.
***
Gritting my teeth with each and every step at the pain shooting up my leg and a pounding headache, I make my way to her car. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…
But that’s bullshit. Things always take a turn for the worse, right when they seem to be going better.
It’s a good trick, this one. Life has it down pat. Lets you relax a little, only to trip you up when you least expect it. God knows, it happened to me so often I should be able to see the pattern by now.
Besides, chin up. And stop whining. How basic is that? You aren’t dead, plus there’s a hot chick—the hottest chick ever—taking you home. Her home, with promises of warmth and food and…
And nothing. That’s all. More than what you have now, though. More than you ever hope to get with her.
Take it.
Keeping a groan behind my teeth, I fold myself into her small car and prop my walking stick between my legs. I’m shivering with cold, and fuck, need to stretch my leg, but there isn’t any space.
Suck it up, Seffers.
To take my mind off the pain, I glance at her as she slips in behind the wheel and cranks up the heater. Even dripping wet, long dark hair stuck to her face and neck, she’s beautiful.