Page 3 of Vicious Sentiments

“I promise,” he repeats, settling the palms of his hands under my elbows. “but I am going to hurt whoever the fuck did that to you.”

Chapter Two

Dawn has started to break and the hum of the gas station owner’s car has filled the silence as it pulls into the two-pump parking lot. I’ve been with the stranger, Julian, all night, sitting on the curb.

Despite myself, I believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t know if it was his soft eyes or the way his voice ground out vengeance, but I led him to the gas station. I even let him pull me down onto the curb with him when I tried to walk away.

Sit with me.

So I did.

No one has ever shown anger at my pain, not even myself. I prefer to be numb, one of my two, almost three modes. But a new feeling is swirling inside of me, so faint I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s because of him. So I stayed with him all night, trying to decipher it.

He asked me my name. I told him, Hailey. He asked me who hurt me. I didn’t say anything. He told me about his car and his cell phone that shattered on the road the second he opened his door. He even slipped it out of his pocket and showed me. He told me he was late but didn’t explain why. He asked me if I lived here, and it was obvious that I did, so I didn’t answer. He asked if someone was going to miss me being out so late, and I couldn’t help but snort at the idea. He asked about school, and I told him I had just graduated. He broughtup college, and again I snorted.

I needed to stop snorting. It was in my nature, as prey, to not seem tasty, and snorting was something I developed to protect myself. I’m not sure I even know what my real laugh sounds like because I never get the chance to hear it. But I made a note to stop snorting because as the gloom cleared, and I caught more glimpses of Julian in the buzzing Fred’s Station light, I realized how handsome he is. I would have noticed sooner if my caution hadn’t kept me blind.

I still don’t want to seem tasty in his presence but I don’t want to seem inedible either. That realization keeps me sitting on the curb, uncertain, as Julian stands to get into the store that Fred is unlocking.

When the bells on the door jingle, I expect I’m alone, until a hand shoots out in front of me. On instinct, I flinch.

“Stop that. I’m not going to hurt you.” The hand stays where it is, waiting for me to take it. After a second, I do. He pulls me up with unexpected ease and I tumble lightly into his chest.

I suck in a tight breath at the pain and grab my ribs, bending slightly.

I hear Julian exhale through his nose. “Is there more that I’m not seeing?”

I look up at him with no intention of answering and see his jaw ticking again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” he growls, and my heart speeds up. He has been calm all night, and I’m not ready for his quick temper.

Please don’t lash out.

I’m not sure what he sees on my face, but his voice drops low and he mutters, “Sorry.” His face relaxes with the word.

“Come on.” He tugs my hand and leads me into the store.

Fred is a heavy man in a white beater with chest hair overflowing from the top. His face is normally disgruntled but now it’s pinched, and aimed at Julian from behind the counter.

“I need to use your phone,” Julian says.

“Phones for customers.” Fred harrumphs and folds his arms over his bulging stomach.

The tic is quick to come back in Julian’s jaw but he inhales and turns to me.

“Grab whatever you want,” he tells me. “Drinks, snacks—” He stares at my arm in the bright fluorescent lights. “Ice.” He tacks on and lets go of my hand.

I don’t make a move. I don’t have money to buy anything—despite how dry my mouth is—and ice is pointless when the bruises will just be replaced with fresh ones in a day.

Julian has leveled his sights on Fred, slipping his hands coolly into his pockets and yet his eyes are anything but cool.

After a moment, he notices me still standing at his side.

“He’s not going to let me use the phone unless I buy something,” he says it like an explanation, but I still don’t move. He looks at me quizzically for a moment and then slowly smiles. The dimple in his cheek has my face heating oddly and I look away before he notices.

“Here—” He reaches into his back pocket and holds out his wallet to me. He has it clasped lightly between two of his fingers as if he doesn’t care who snatches it.

“You don’t have to—” I start, but he leans in and pushes the weighty wallet into my hand.

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