ChapterSix
Saffron
I putmy hands up in front of me as if I could ward off any impending assholery with my palms. If only I had magic or something. I could still remember me at eleven, Gabe at sixteen, teasing me about how I still loved Harry Potter and how all that fantasy bullshit wasn’t real. I'd never forgiven him for that actually.
"Look, I understand that you're upset." I backed up an inch. I'd walked too far from the light. Would anyone even hear me if I started screaming? I’d already put my phone away, so I couldn’t send a quick text without being obvious.
I could just turn and run. The question was, how fast was he? And how fast was I in my heels?
"You were a right cunt to me in there."
I licked my lips nervously. "To be fair, you were a little handsy. But you know, we're going to let bygones be bygones, okay mate?"
If it was strict hand-to-hand, I wouldn't be worried. But did he have a weapon?
He started moving forward slowly. "You are going to apologize for how you talked to me in there."
My toxic trait was clearly that I had zero intention of apologizing to pompous twats. The problem was that toxic trait was going to get me killed one day. So I really needed to learn to shove it down or go to therapy and take care of it.
"To be fair, you were being a twat." Who the hell said that? Was that me?
Yup, you. So smart.
He narrowed his gaze at me. "I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson."
"You don't want to do that. And honestly, I'm thinking with your safety in mind here."
"You're a cunt. You're not even that pretty. You're only mildly attractive for a Black girl. You certainly don’t hold a candle to your fucking mate."
I swallowed hard at the insult and forced myself to smile beatifically. "Ow, again. If you're going to do this, I insist that you start with some fresh insults, but you're probably not that bright, are you? Are those the only ones you found on the internet and you're trying them out?"
Way to lay low, Saff. Way to not antagonize the twatwaffle. Way to play it safe. Now we're going to get into a fight. Gabe is never letting you out of his sight again.
The rush of anger in my veins was unexpected. The fact that because of this arsehole, Gabe was going to ground me, and likely, he'd make sure that from now on wherever I went I had an armed escort.
"I promise you that you don't want to do this, because if you do, I'm going to be forced to kick your arse. And then when I do, you know, police will get involved, and my brother will be quite cross. So let's walk away from this, okay?"
"You? The only thing you are going to do is to lie beneath me and show me just how sorry you are. Even better, use your mouth. There is one good thing about Black girls; your lips always look like you're ready to suck."
I didn't even think about it. The jab landed fast, quick, and effortless. As if I'd been trained to do it my whole goddamn life.
He growled at me and launched. I side-stepped, kicked my foot up just so that my boot planted, and tripped him.
He screamed as he scrambled for purchase then hit the ground face first. The problem was he was between me and the exit to the alley now.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Sure you are, and that’s why you are on the ground and I’m—"
He kicked out his foot and clipped just the edge of my boot, putting me off kilter. Then he rolled over, grabbing for me, climbing on top of me, and I was in that position. The one they warn you about in every single self-defense class, in every single training class.
Never ever, ever get on the ground.
The cold fear paralyzes you. The wicked doubt will have you ready to bargain.
Luckily, Gabe had been working with me on this scenario all my life. But I had to say, all those times he'd wrestled me when I was getting a little too big-headed, thinking that I knew how to fight, he was being gentle.
This geezer was not. He was pawing at me, trying to lick my neck. I shoved the bile down by swallowing hard.