Page 41 of Beyond The Maples
I would give anything to have my dad come back, even after all the mistakes he made.
Berk gets up and pats my shoulder.
"Maybe." He sighs, scooping up his stuff and shuffling out.
I feel a tiny pang of regret. Maybe I overstepped.
I'm deep in thought when I realize more people have trickled into the training arena now. I eye the group who walk in like they own the place. The bald man from a few weeks ago, not Dex, leads the way. I watch as he tips a young girl's canteen when she tries to drink from it, spilling all over herself.
Annoyance grips me right away. I have to plant my feet firmly on the ground, so I don't go over and say something. If intervention is an addiction, this place seems to have unleashed it in me. I need to keep my head down, I remind myself. I don't know why this type of thing bothers me this way.
Unfortunately for me, the one goon notices me standing here, by myself, now with my fists clenched, and he grins.
He saunters over with all the arrogance of a true idiot and circles me. I suspect he's trying to intimidate me, but it just makes me think of a child trying to look bigger than they are. The way Willow used to before she'd tried to tackle me.
He flips my braid with his hand.
"You know, you'd be a lot cuter if you loosened up a bit," he challenges, his soft chin jutting out.
I will my face into a mask of indifference. He stands in front of me, firmly in my way.
"My aim here isn't to be appealing to anyone. Why don't you stop annoying everyone in sight, and go train?"
There's an icy authority in my voice, one I barely recognize, as I point to where his crew is stretching. He comes close enough I can smell his rancid breath, but I don't retreat. I know if I show an inch of vulnerability, it will only push him forward. He goes to touch my hair again. On instinct, I smack his hand, the sharp echo drawing eyes over to us.
"Touch me again and this won't end well for you," I hiss at him. I barely have a leash on my anger, and I'm afraid of how this will go if he doesn't back off. He looks at me, surprised, but intrigued. I always seem to surprise people with this side of myself. The anger that bubbles beneath the surface sometimes flowing over my otherwise easy demeanor. He steps forward, and I'm about to truly unleash on him, but he freezes.
"Do we have a problem here?" a deep, silky voice from right behind me asks.
I watch as the blockhead's eyeballs go wide. "Nope, no problem, sir." He turns on his heels and clumsily scurries back to his group.
My satisfaction is short-lived. I don't need or want a saviour. I turn to scold the person standing unreasonably close to me, but stop as I register who it is.
Lieutenant Valo is standing there, much closer than I would think necessary. He eyes my still-clenched fists, putting his own casually in his pockets. He lifts a dark eyebrow at me in question.
"Look, I appreciate your attempt here. But I don't need help. No hero needed. You'll probably only make it worse for me by intervening, and they'll come now when you're not around..." I trail off, momentarily distracted by his eyes roaming all over my face. I meet his stare and wonder again about the colour of his eyes. When he was further away, they looked black, but now I see they are actually the darkest colour green. Without my consent, my head tilts to get a better look. He must be almost a foot taller than me because my head barely makes it to his shoulder. His eyes are a distracting combination with his dark olive skin. His features, I notice with annoyance, would all be perfect if not marked by the fact that he's clearly seen combat. His strong nose a little crooked, skin peppered with white scars. I realize in horror I've been perusing him openly when I look up at his face again and his mouth is half-cocked with the faintest satisfied grin.
I step back, heat scorching my cheeks, losing all my bravado.
"You're confused," he finally says.
To my surprise, he steps closer to me, leaning in ever so slightly as he grumbles.
"I'm confident you can take care of yourself, and I'll never be anyone'shero. I just didn't want you making a mess of him in my training facility," he explains with a tinge of amusement.
And then he turns and walks away. A shiver goes through my body at his tone. A mess of him? What does that even mean?
What a dick.
I feel even more frazzled than I did when the bald bozo was here tormenting me.
I aggressively toss my things into my gym bag when Farra slides onto the bench behind me.
"What's got you so worked up?" she hums, bumping shoulders with me.
"Everyone," is all I'm able to reply, gesturing absurdly with my hands to the general population.
Farra laughs.
