Page 53 of Blade

“What happened?”

She looked away, as though she were embarrassed, almost as if she blamed herself. She had nothing to beembarrassed about. Three more deep breaths and I climbed off my bike and walked toward her.

I gave her credit; she stood her ground despite what she had been through.

When I stood directly in front of her, I lifted her chin with a single finger. In the light from the parking lot, I could clearly see the bruise already forming on her cheek. I turned around and walked away, grabbing my phone off the holder on my bike.

“Jack, he hit her,” I seethed.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Bad enough that a bruise is already there.”

I looked back at Becca.

She just stood there, waiting.

“Fuck. We’ll find him, brother.”

Jack cut the call, and I headed back over to where Becca stood.

“What happened, Beck?” I already asked her once, but she ignored me. She needed to tell me how bad it was.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go home.”

She crossed her arm with the torn strap over her chest. Preventing her dress from falling and exposing her breast.

She stared at me, waiting.

“Did he…?” I couldn’t even get the words out.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, but… no he didn’t,” she snapped, shaking her head.

“Ok, come on, I’ll take you home.”

I walked toward my bike, expecting her to follow.

“I can’t ride that.”

“Have you ever been on a bike before?” I asked, knowing full well she had.

With me.

“Yes, it’s been a long time though, and it was just a dirt bike.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m wearing a dress.” She held her arms out so I could see the dress, as if I didn’t see her leave with it on earlier. Quickly realizing her mistake when one side folded over. She swiftly brought her arm back up to hold the dress in place.

I removed my cut and took off my shirt. Holding it out to her, she looked at it as though I offered her the plague.

“Put the shirt on and you won’t have to worry about your dress falling. It’s dark out. The dress is long enough that it shouldn’t ride up too much and the ride is short.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked at my bike, then at her dress. Conceding, she took the shirt from my hand and slid it over her head.

Damn, she looked good wearing my clothes.

Suddenly, the lyrics to ‘You Look Good in My Shirt’ by Keith Urban was running through my head.

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