Page 14 of First Touch

I’m not sure what to do, so I get in my car and blast the a/c. I think about leaving, I don’t really have a reason to stay, but the thought of going home and running into Kyle again keeps my hand off the gear shift. Would he show back up to my house?

Why didn’t I consider that possibility?

Of course, this is happening to me. Another reason that I’m going to spend the rest of my life fearing men. I rub my face under my glasses, feeling exhausted from the day. Feeling exhausted from this life. I didn’t ask for the bad things that have happened to me, yet I’m stuck dealing with the consequences forever.

A tap on my window makes me jump out of my skin, nearly biting my tongue to keep from screaming.

Get out of your head, Thea. It’s only Jay.

I crack my window, willing my pulse to ease, but it doesn’t. Not with him so close.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His hands are raised in surrender, his apology genuine.

“It’s okay. I’m a little jumpy after the day I’ve had.” And the life I’ve had, but I don’t add that part.

“I forgot that I walked here today, but I can still make sure you get home okay. Want me to ride with you?” That question startles me and I can only imagine what my face looks like because he jumps back in before I can respond.

“It’s okay if you say no, but at least take my number and text me when you’re home safe.” He holds out a small yellow paper with his number on it, a -J, at the bottom.

“You carry around post-its with your number on them?” I ask, skeptically.

He laughs again, not at all put off by my question. “I wrote it down earlier. I was going to give it to your coworker after my meeting in case you guys had any problems with that guy again. I didn’t know I’d run into you out here.”

Wow. Of course, I would never have assumed that. Now I feel like a jerk.

I carefully take the paper with his number but need another minute to work out whether I should let him in my car or not. He seems safe. He goes to a support group for veterans, which means he’s probably ex-military. That could be a good sign, but he’s still a man. A man much bigger than me.

Except, he’s given me no indication that he’s anything but sincere and genuinely concerned about my safety…

“How will you get home if I drive?” I ask, hoping my logical question will diffuse his offer to help me entirely and put the decision out of my hands.

“I can walk. Keeps me slim,” he feigns seriousness, seeing right through me.

My eyes trail down his body at the mention of his figure. I can tell he has no issues in that department. When my focus is on his face again, he maintains eye contact with me, forcing me to look away first.

He’s so direct, so opposite from me. It’s hard to believe he would be lying about wanting to help me… But, I’ve been lied to plenty of times.

We all make choices in our lives that end up being disastrous mistakes. I’ve made plenty of mistakes, one in particular being worse than the rest, and it’s tainted every choice in my life since it happened.

I won’t know if this particular choice is a mistake until it’s too late, but I can’t let my past hold me back forever. I need to live.

“Okay. Get in then,” I tell him warily, reminding myself that he doesn’t seem dangerous. He hasn’t felt like a threat since I started interacting with him but that doesn’t stop the nerves from climbing up my spine. Each muscle along my vertebrae tightens as he rounds the front of my car to get in.

Before I have a chance to second guess myself, we’re confined in my vehicle only a foot apart, driving down the road. He doesn’t speak at first and neither do I. The air circulating us feels supercharged. It’s like every hair on my body is standing on end sensing his nearness.

Paying attention to the road in front of me is difficult when I keep trying to peek at him from the corner of my eye. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, sitting relaxed in his seat as he observes the town from his window.

“Why are you doing this?” I can’t help but ask the question that’s been ringing in my mind.

“What?” His voice trickles through the space between us, once again throwing a blanket over some of the anxiety that’s busting out of the seams of my brain. His tone does something to calm me, but the effect unnerves me.

“Why are you helping me? You don’t know me.” I glance at him before I take the turn that leads to my street. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face, but I focus on the road, refusing to look back in his direction. Maintaining eye contact with him is too extreme in this small space.

“I don’t like when men bully women,” he states simply, answering my question, but not quite answering it at the same time. He rests his elbow on the center console, making me subconsciously move my arm further away. I try covering it up by messing with the sleeve of my sweater.

“So, you’re some sort of protector of women then?” I try to make it sound as lighthearted as possible even though I’m dying to know more about him.

His gaze is locked on where my right hand is resting in the crook of my left elbow. He definitely noticed my subtle adjustment because he moves his elbow back to his lap.

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