Page 56 of Retribution

Warm hands.

Comfort.

Air.

Breathe.

Indie breathe.

BREATHE my subconscious screams.

Or… someone?

“Indie! Breathe!” Huh?

Opening my eyes, not noticing that they were squeezed tightly enough to make me see an abyss of stars. Or is that from the lack of oxygen because I am still struggling to get my lungs to work.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, look at me.” A comforting voice draws me back to life.

Peering up into warm brown eyes and golden hair, he looks kind of familiar. His face is pulled into a grimace, concern etched in every crease. I suck in a harsh breath, the world around me coming back to life.

“Harrison?” I ask.

“You remember me, pretty girl?” He smiles, standing me upright.

My brain is fuzzy, confused how I thought I’d just died moments before and now I’m here staring haphazardly at the stranger from earlier.

“You’ve crossed paths with me twice now, both times unwarranted,” I say, thinking of his intrusion and the croissant pillows.

“Oh excuse me, next time I’ll let the girl wander into a road with busy traffic. Which, by the way, is not a good idea with your head buried in your purse. Ever heard of looking left and right before waltzing in front of a car?” He tilts his head as the sarcasm drips from his sultry lips.

“Maybe, I was wrong about you. I thought you had your wits about you,” He lets out a dry laugh.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, or if I was thinking at all,” I mutter, the past few minutes happened so fast I barely remember getting here.

My concentration was clearly clouded with the ridiculous conversation I had with Reed. I can tell Harrison is trying to lighten the situation with a little humor, but I’m plagued with guilt for refusing to not only help Reed, but Willow.

“Hey, is everything okay, Indie?” He reaches down to my jaw and cups it in his hand, the touch tender and caring.

He waits for a response, scanning over my entire body checking for any actual injuries.

I nod and tuck my loose strands of hair behind my ear, the weight of lifting my wrist feeling extra strenuous.

His hand remains cupping my face and I only just realize that our bodies are still pressed together, the proximity heating my core. The blush rises to my cheeks, and I take a step backwards.

He notices my sudden change of demeanor as he returns the gesture, stepping back.

“What I’ve been meaning to say, is thank you. For uh, saving my life.” I offer a genuine smile, trying to highlight the meaning behind my words.

It’s probably a given, considering what I’m thanking him for, but otherwise the extra effort makes me feel better for being so drastically cold.

“Anytime, just if you plan on doing that again anytime soon, be sure to give me a call.” He winks, his grin widening as he finishes.

Is he… trying to ask for my number?

God, the embarrassment I feel right now is clear. His cheeks are tainted slightly pink on his light tanned skin, his well-kempt stubble barely masking his traitorous cheeks.

Struggling to throw together a sentence, overwhelmed and flattered all at once, I offer my phone out to him instead, implying that I want his number. It’s better to have the upper-hand and text him if I really want to, meaning I can call the shots for now. I don’t even know this guy, but do I want to get to know him? Maybe.

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