Page 5 of Together in Harmony
Ouch, an effing lot.
Three huge strangers are coming towards me. I want to get to my feet, Ineedto get to my feet.
But my foot doesn’t seem to be working.
Everything hurts, from my stinging palms to my skinned knees. Every time I try to get up, my leg will not comply.
Eff it!
So instead of standing up, I collapse down smaller,
whimper and close my eyes. Old Harmony style.
“Hey,” says a voice. “Are you OK?”
It isn’t the first man who yelled at me. That dude was ANGRY, hence me being reduced to a rolly-bug. This voice is a fraction gentler.
“Can I help you up?”
I don’t have a clue what to do. I’m still naked from the waist up, and now injured and surrounded by strange men. I want to just disappear, but that is not possible.
I should open my eyes.
What I really don’t want to do is… open my eyes.
But I do. Because these days I am Brave Harmony.
The first thing I see are three pairs of feet, all in various kinds of sneakers.
A tee-shirt is handed to me. Someone is helping me take care of my nakedness, and I’m grateful. I take the shirt without looking up, and quickly drag it over my head.
“Thanks,” I mutter, then, continuing to be brave, I stretch out a hand. “Help up would be good.”
A large arm wraps around my waist, and in the next second I’m vertical. Finally raising my head, I see three men staring at me.
I stare back.
All of them are extraordinary looking.
On a scale of intimidating; number one is super tall, broad shoulders, straight arrogant nose and icy blue eyes. His thick, black, curling hair is swept back off his face, emphasizing cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself on them.
His eyes narrow as he looks at me. Not friendly—and also not wearing a shirt.
I realize I am wearing his shirt.
Beside him is the next scariest; a slim-hipped, green-eyed beauty. This one has hair bleached almost white, with grown-out dark brown roots. Tattoos everywhere.
Probablyeverywheregiven his whole rebel-punk thing. His wide, full mouth is grinning. He gives me a wink.
Then the third. The one who spoke gently. Dirty-blonde hair and built like a line-backer. His nose is slightly crooked. Sleepy eyes, with crinkles in his dark tan. Seems like he laughs a lot. Warm, golden eyes.
His hands are rock-crushingly huge.
Each one of them are incredible-looking in their own right, but as a group of three, their presence is overwhelming.
As a group of three…
My brain tickles.
