Page 28 of Retribution

Once we make it a bit further down the street, definitely not gracefully, I plant us on a bench near to the sidewalk. He hasn’t muttered a word since we’ve left but I can’t tell if it’s out of embarrassment or if he is purely just too drunk to notice what’s going on.

The confusion overrides me, “What the hell happened in there?”

A mumble escapes his mouth, barely even trying to make it understandable for me. Slouching back, he covers his face with his hands, revealing a very expensive looking watch.

If I didn’t think he was rich before, I certainly do now. That watch could probably pay my entire year of bills.

My gaze drifts from his watch to his hands that completely cover over his face and then some. Those long fingers that are currently entangled in his locks tempt me in ways I didn’t think possible.

My eyes trail along each of the veins on his hands and up to the exposed skin of his wrist, continuing to his torso, a tight-fitted white button up sculpted to his obvious abs underneath.

Lingering on the belt at the bottom of his torso, I find myself biting my lip. I can’t help but wonder what’s hidden beneath, the buckle taunting me, knowing that it’s protecting something that I want.

Coughing, I try to pick my mind up out of the gutter.

Clearly, the bottle of wine I had before leaving has ignited emotions within me that had been long forgotten, until now.

Reed startles, removing his hands from his face, eyes meeting with mine. My lips part as his glassy eyes wander all over my face.

My mind wonders, questioning why he’s in such bad shape, drunk and almost getting into a fight with some random guy.

“Is everything okay with you?” I question.

“Right as rain,” he beams with a perfect set of white teeth.

The smile he gives represents how I’m feeling internally, pained, and sad.

Trying to reassure him, I give him a small smile in return. I know that Allie is seriously injured from the accident, I don’t know the full extent, but I’ve heard she is in some sort of coma.

It can’t be easy, seeing someone you love to suffer, knowing there is nothing you can do about it.

His hand reaches up, stretching his finger out as he jabs it into my cheek.

My brows instantly furrow with confusion, and I gasp. What on earth is going through his mind right now?

He grins to himself, his eyes twinkling under the streetlights. Folding my arms across my chest I raise my left eyebrow, hinting I want to know what is so hilarious.

“I love that.”

“Love what?” Has this guy had more than alcohol?

“Watch, do it again,” he speaks confidently.

“Do what?” I try to think back to what made him poke me in the cheek. I give him a sympathetic smile. This time, he attacks me with two of his fingers, one on each cheek. What the fuck?

Standing up from the bench, I place my hands on my hips, “Are you okay, Reed? Do I need to get you a cab straight to the nearest loony hospital?” He smirks up at me, revealing the most mischievous look on his face.

“I’m perfectly fine, dimples.” Ah.

“Very original, Reed. I need to get you home before you start harassing other random strangers for their facial features,” shaking my head and offering him a hand to stand up.

“Actually, harassment is usually offensive or demeaning which is the exact opposite of what I did,” he smirks at his arrogant nature.

Who even recalls definitions of words off the top of their head like that? Should I be alarmed that he knows exactly what harassment is?

“What exactly would you define it as then? Smart ass.”

He ponders for a moment.

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