Page 11 of Prudence
Derek was being so kind and caring, and honestly, it wasn’t his fault that I’d fallen victim to his brother’s prank, which was meant for Aidan. It was my own fault for not paying attention to where I was going. Something about his warmth and heady scent had my mind travelling back to that day when he’d offered me a lift home, a warm shelter from the rain and hail. This was the second time he’d come to my rescue after I’d gotten drenched. Only tonight was far more upsetting because it had taken so much courage to say yes to his invite in the first place.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Milly,” he said, his voice pure gravel.
His forehead was still pressed to mine, and his proximity made me a little dizzy.
“You can walk me home,” I said at last and watched as his lips curved into a handsome smile. I felt his hand run along my shoulder and down my arm before his fingers slid between mine. He held my small hand in his much larger one, and my heart skipped a beat.
With both my cardigan and his jacket on me, I started to feel a modicum dryer and a little less like I was going to succumb to frostbite. During my studies, I’d read about how quickly people could freeze to death, but this was the first time I’d felt a sensation close to what those poor souls experienced when trapped in the cold.
“How are you feeling now?” Derek asked when we’d almost reached my house.
“A little better.”
He looked me over. “Good.” A pause as he turned to the street ahead of us, his jaw working before he grunted, “Tristan is going to rue the day he ever decided to pull that prank, I promise you.”
I was touched by how angry he was on my behalf, even if I was still bristling at the spectacle that was made of me. The only saving grace was that most of the people at the party went to St. Mark’s, which meant the rumour of how Milly O’Shea had the gumption to think she could go to a party with the likes of Derek Balfe and was swiftly reminded of her place was unlikely to spread at my own school.
A few minutes later, we arrived outside my house. The lampshade was on in the living room. My parents were probably sitting down to watch TV. It was barely ten, and Derek had told Dad I’d be back by midnight. I hoped he didn’t question why I was home so early.
“Thank you for walking me back,” I said. I was about to remove his jacket when Derek stopped me.
“Keep it. You might need it.”
“I’m about twenty steps from my front door. I think I’ll be okay,” I responded lightly.
“Still,” he said, his hand leaving mine as he tugged the sides of the jacket tighter around me, his eyes fixed on the zipper. His heated expression told me he liked seeing me in something he owned. “I’d rather not take any chances.”
“Okay,” I breathed because, oddly enough, I didn’t want to remove the jacket yet either. It smelled of him, and his scent was an unexpected comfort after such a horrifying ordeal.
“Can I stop by to see you tomorrow? I’ll bring doughnuts from that new shop in town everyone’s been raving about.”
Hmm, I was partial to doughnuts even though they were inordinately high in cholesterol and saturated fat. Still, I decided I was too young to be worrying about heart diseasejust yet despite it being on the rise. “Sure, that sounds good,” I responded, shooting him a grateful look. Our night might’ve ended badly, but Derek had been a gentleman. A flirtatious one, sure, but a gentleman, nonetheless.
“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said as he walked me to the door, his hand warm on my lower back. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to my cheek, and butterflies swarmed to life in my belly. It was only a brief peck, but it still made my heart flutter. I shot him a little wave before I used my key to get inside, closing the door behind me and emitting a long, shaky breath. The effect that boy had on me scrambled my equilibrium. It worried me because, as demonstrated tonight, I wasnotthe only girl in town who had eyes for Derek Balfe. The thought of constantly having to fret about someone else snagging his attention was stressful, to say the least. Still, he’d barely glanced at anyone except for me all night, and that notion had the butterflies in my stomach increasing tenfold.
“Milly, is that you?” Mam called when she heard me shuffling out of my wet shoes in the hallway. I set them down beneath the radiator, hoping that would dry them off.
“Yes, just me,” I replied.
“How was the party?” Dad put in.
“It was fun. I’m going to bed now,” I lied.
“All right, sleep tight, sweetheart,” he went on as I hurried up the stairs, glad to get to my room before either of my parents saw my drenched clothing and began asking questions. As I stripped out of my ruined outfit, I found myself ruminating on the awful way the night had ended. How Francesca had laughed at me, her expression pleased like I’d gotten exactly what I’d deserved. Tears pricked at my eyes, one spilling down my cheek. Why did some people have to be so cruel? I’d never been cut out for that scene, the one Derek occupied, full of sporty ladsand pretty, confident girls. I didn’t fit in with his world despite wishing for it.
Once I’d changed into some clean, dry clothes, I fell into bed and drifted to sleep from sheer emotional exhaustion. The following morning, I was woken by my little sister nudging impatiently at my shoulder.
“Milly! Derek Balfe is here again,” Jane proclaimed with excitement, and I practically shot up out of bed. I hadn’t set an alarm, and I’d completely overslept. “I spied him through the window. He’s waiting outside, and he brought two other boys with him,” she went on.
In a panic, I hurried to throw on a jumper and brush my hair and teeth before I ran downstairs to answer the door. Derek stood there, a shamefaced-looking Tristan and Rhys standing down by the gate. He held the promised box of doughnuts in his hands, while Jane went up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “Aunt Nell took Mam and Dad out for brunch, so they won’t be back for a while.” Relief set in that my parents were out, and I wouldn’t have to endure my dad glowering suspiciously at Derek for a second time.
“Um, hi,” I said, tugging at the end of my jumper and hoping there wasn’t any sleep crusted in the corners of my eyes. I suspected they were still a little red from the crying I’d done last night.
He took me in with a warm, tender smile. “Did I wake you?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
His smile turned apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
