“They didn’t touch me,” I assured her. “That was from work.”
“Work?”
“Yeah, I’m a fighter.”
She paused and her eyebrows screwed together.
“A what?”
“A fighter,” I repeated. “You know—two guys in a cage beating the shit out of each other.”
“In a cage?” she asked with disbelief.
“Yep.” I stated it simply and without making a grandiose noise out of the final consonant because that would just sound stupid.
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real.” I laughed.
“I thought that was just on TV.”
&nb
sp; “We all have to start somewhere,” I muttered.
“Sorry,” she said. She wrapped the strap of her bag around her neck and shoulder.
“What for?”
“I didn’t mean to be…insulting.”
“I’m not insulted.”
“Oh…well, okay then.” She ran her teeth over her bottom lip and looked down the dark street. I was pretty sure she shuddered a little.
“Let’s get you home,” I commanded as I started walking.
She nodded, and I walked next to her as she headed off in the same direction I usually walked home anyway. She kept her fingers wrapped around the strap of the huge bag and continued to stare at the ground as she walked.
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“Do what?” Her eyes met mine for a moment.
“Look at the ground,” I said. “You aren’t paying attention to your surroundings, so it makes you an easier target.”
“Oh,” she responded. At first she looked right back to the ground again, but then she seemed to process what I had said and held her head a little higher.
“Where are you from?”
“What makes you think I’m not from here?”
“You aren’t from the city,” I stated.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes,” I snickered. “Girls from around here know better than to walk alone, except the hookers, but that doesn’t seem your style.”
She glared at me out of the corner of her eye.