Collateral Damage

C H A P T E R 37

A HELPING HAND

Puppet

Play – ‘Running Away – Genevieve Stokes’

I t’s been about a week and all I've thought about are the words that she spoke.

If you want me to, I will. When and only when you are ready. Do you understand me? I practically threw myself at her and thinking about it, all I’ve done is throw myself at her but she’s rejected me. Maybe she's lying to save her from hurting my feelings. She said I wasn't an object? I never said I was. But I guess I was a little desperate. She’s right. I assumed that is all she wanted from me and strangely, she didn’t seem at all phased. She didn’t want me. Or she did but I expected her to be like any other man I've heard about. But she isn’t. Nor is she a man.

She’s a woman who has only ever put my needs before hers. Now that I think about it. I didn’t throw myself at her to please her. I did it to please me. I’ve grown this attraction that is now hard to shake. Either that or I'm so lonely that my mind is deceiving me. She has given me all but a spoonful of this darkness she inhabits and I'm drawn to it like a nocturnal animal. I thrive in it. I feel alive. She’s damaged but she is not broken. There is good in her. Good that’s been abused and wronged. But for some reason, when she’s with me, I see that redemption inside her that I hoped from day one would keep me safe and it has. She has. I know it’s wrong of me to even be thinking about her in this light. She’s a woman. What does that make me? Am I gay? I don’t even know what I am, but I know that when she pulls me close and tempts my thoughts, nothing about it feels disgusting. It feels so unbelievable natural. Looking back, I don’t think I’ve ever found boys hot. Not ones I’ve seen anyway, and the most I’ve spoken to a boy was in a queue for my morning coffee. I was so taken back by his words I almost dropped it. He told me I have nice eyes and that was a compliment, right? But I hated it. Yet, when she speaks of me like I’m a gift, I can physically feel my cheeks burning. I’ve spent my entire life around girls, due to being at an all-girls school and college, but only now am I realising that this attraction, this thud in between my legs every time she looks at me? It’s not unfamiliar. It’s only unfamiliar because I’ve tried so long to deny the way I really feel. A feeling that’s been there way before she walked into my life. Or should I say, forced her way into my life.

I was always so envious of Kacey. Her beautiful blonde hair that reaches her ass and her stunning ocean eyes, far deeper than Hays though. Her defined tummy muscles that slim her waist and look so cute in low rise jeans. Flares that accentuate her ass and lip gloss that make her lips way too unbelievably plump. But now I’m wondering if that was even envy. Oh god, am I really attracted to women? Now that I think about it, it makes this so much more terrifying. Does it even count? I mean, Hays is basically a man so now I’m just entirely confused.

My overly stimulated thoughts are pulled from me as the door goes, I take my pen off the paper to look up, finding her smothered from head to toe, yet again in oil and I clamp my legs together at the unwanted rush. For God sake Alo . And how has she not fixed that bike yet? I say that like I know anything about bikes.

“You’ll be dead by the time that things fixed.” She waltzes back into the garage, where her solid voice morphs into an echo.

“Not if I can help it. Here. Give me a hand.” She talks from the other side of the wall and I frown. Is she asking me to go into the garage? This is new. But I comply. Making my way over to the door, peering in like I'm waiting for the principal to call me in to sit down.

“Hold this for me, Puppet .” Her entire off-white tank top is completely ruined with dirty fingerprints and marks, the back end of the bike is jacked up and there are parts scattered all over the floor.

“Are you sure I should be in here? I don’t want to mess anything up.” She ignores me, like I asked a stupid question and holds a spanner out for me to take, standing there looking like a fish out of water as I hold it for her, drooling at the sight of her on her hands and knees fiddling with God knows what. I haven’t a clue what she’s doing but she’s working those fingers and God I could watch this for hours.

“You see this bolt?” I realise she’s talking to me, creeping in closer as she points to the centre of the bike, squinting to focus on what she’s showing me.“I need you to hook it.” She takes my hand, guiding me to fix the spanner to the bolt. “Like this.” I nod. And I probably look terrified.“And I need you to hold it there. Don’t move it. Can you do that for me?” I'm staring through her as she speaks to me, gawking at her inky covered hands, guiltily imaging them around my throat.

“Alora.”

“Sorry- Yes- yeah. Sure!” I hold it in place. Using all my strength as she does what she does and whatever she is doing she’s applying ridiculous force. My hand hurts. “What are you doing?” I don't even know why I'm asking because I haven't a clue what any of this is.

“I’m changing the battery.” She still hasn’t looked at me, deep in concentration and it’s so cute .

“A battery? I thought bikes worked on engines.” A hysterical laugh leaves her mouth.

“Oh, baby girl .” She pinches the bridge of her nose, and it’s safe to say, I really am a bike noob, but I’m too concentrated on the fact that she called me baby girl. Feeling my cheeks buzz with embarrassment. She’s never called me that?

“Every motor needs a battery. Otherwise, it won’t turn on. But unfortunately, mine was busted so I've been hunting for a new one. Fingers crossed it boots the old girl up.” I nod like I understand but she knows I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. Completely fixated on listening to her waffle. Another moment to breathe in her inner child she never got to experience as she sits and tells me how it works and all the different parts of the bike. And honestly. I’m only focused on her. Smiling with contentment.

She spends the next ten to fifteen minutes piecing the bike back together, rambling about her favourite hobby like she’s never shared it with anyone before.

“Ok. You wanna give it a go?” I look blankly at her . I don’t even have a licence?

“What? You mean, like- ride it?”

“Noooo. Turn it on. See if she boots up.” The palm of my hand hits my forehead, contemplating my IQ right now. Math was my thing. Bikes? Not so much. She ushers me to mount the bike, and I can barely fit my little ass on it, giving me a hand as she holds my waist to help me up, hooking my leg over the seat.

“You see this lever right here? Squeeze it for me.” I reach for the handle, just about grabbing it, and she closes my fingers around the lever, holding her hand in place to keep it secure.“That little switch in front of you. Turn it clockwise.”

My nerves are ecstatic and I don't know why. I’ve never been on a bike before. I turn the key, anticipating what it will do but it does nothing.

“You ready?” Excitement is dripping off my face, giggling like a little girl as she squeezes my hand tightly and jacks what looks like a lever by my foot, making the whole bike wobble. Her free hand sits on my lower back to secure me in the seat. She does it a few times and nothing happens, using sheer strength to give it power and suddenly the entire garage rattles.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD. YOU DID IT!” Vibrations ring through my body, and it’s so loud I can’t hear myself think but this is so exciting, my hands flail around trying to contain my joy, waving a high five for her little victory and her smile makes my tummy flutter every time. She grabs my hips to lift me back off the seat onto solid ground, pressed up against the side of the bike and she makes me lose all ability to think when we are this close.

“I think that calls for a beer.” I lose all sense of reality as she peers down at me through her abnormally long lashes that I’ve never noticed before, gazing at them for far too long when I realise the disgustingly gorgeous smile on her face. She pulls away from me and I let out a breath I was holding, watching her walk into the kitchen but I take a moment to admire her garage properly now that I am not sneaking around. My fingers trace the wooden bench smothered in tools and dust, catching the doors in the corner of my eye. Her office and…the door I couldn't get into. I stand there for a moment staring at it with curiosity, finding myself moving closer to it like it's speaking to me.

“ You coming?” I hear her talk but don't register her words, closing the gap between me and this little secret.

“ Alora .”

Her voice makes me jump as she swings round the garage door and it was almost snappy, pulling me out of my trance. There is a reason it is locked. And by the irritation lacing my name she doesn't want me near it.

“Yeah! Sorry. Coming.” I follow her out. I wonder if she even knew it was me who left this door open when I broke in. As far as I know she said she thinks she forgot to lock it. My hand runs the seam of the door, looking at the locked one once more before heading back into the house closing it behind me.