Four
“What the?!” I hear Alvi yell out just as Edison explodes outta the back hallway and into my line of sight. As soon as I see the blood splattered on her face, my heart has a fucking seizure in my chest. I have a full body and soul reaction to her and hear myself roar, “WHO HURT YOU???!!!”
She looks fucking terrified, and I want to fucking kill whoever fucking did this. The fear on her face is activating alarm bells inside my head that are louder than any goal buzzer I’ve ever set off. It’s loud enough to wake the sleeping dragon inside of me. And he’s fucking pissed.
I don’t think twice; I’m up on my feet, jumping into her path with my arms out just in case I need to grab her as she runs through the shop.
These are the same arms that picked her up and held her during absolute fucking chaos.
They’re also the same ones that curled around her protectively when I had to give her over to the paramedics that night last November.
And now they’re the ones that tell a story of my fuck ups.
Speaking of fucking fuck ups, my arm clips the tray table next to Alvi’s chair, and the tray goes flying to the floor. The metal crash has her jumping the fucking walls, and I swear to fucking god that I’ll climb that shit like a goddamn spider if I have to in order to get her down.
“??QUé CARAJO?! (WHAT THE FUCK!!!)” She yells into the empty room, before that big ass black backpack she’s got on takes her tiny ass down.
“FUCK, EDISON!” I shout and dive to the floor as she tries to roll away. Her gigantic fucking luggage pins her in place, and I nearly land on top of her. “WHERE ARE YOU HURT?! WHO THE FUCK—”
“??QUé CO?O HACES AQUí, WEY?! (WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE, DUDE?)” She screeches out as I instinctively wipe away the blood on her cheek.
I search her face for fucking injuries. Okay, okay, it doesn’t look like it's coming from her. I can’t see any fucking cuts and try to grab her chin to take a better look when she swings her fucking T.
rex arms out from under my frame and nails me in the fucking ribs.
Her tiny hands push me away, and I jump up to stare down at this fucking beautiful little nightmare.
There are blood stains on her black sweatshirt, and it has me seeing fucking red.
My bare-fucking chest starts to heave, and her eyes trace the outline of both her goddamn spirit animal and my dumbass heart, as it beats through my freshly-inked and angry, inflamed skin.
She stumbles when she stands, before she adjusts the bag on her back.
It looks new. Not “new new,” but new to her.
And from how fucking stuffed it is, I bet it’s full of all her shit.
Where are her other ones? It’s so big on her that this fucking thing looks like it could double as a sleeping bag. I don’t fucking like it.
“STOP LOOKING AT ME, PENDEJO!” She shouts while looking away. She tucks a piece of black hair behind her ears and wipes her face with the bleach-stained cuff of her sweatshirt.
I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable, and I don’t fucking like it. I’d rather have her be fucking angry and pissed off than looking spooked like this.
“Gimme a fucking name,” I command in a bullet-proof voice that I’d use to lead an army into battle with.
I’d fight a thousand-year war if I had to.
She does something to me that I can’t control.
And right now, I’m having difficulty controlling the dragon breathing fire in my gut.
He’s ready to set ablaze to whatever it is that’s got her like this.
“Fuck you, cabrón ,” she spits out as she pivots toward the front door like she’s about to walk outta here. Oh, fuck no, you’re not going anywhere.
I reach out to grab onto her bag and pull her back into me. She turns her body toward mine and collides with my chest just as my arms lock around her frame. “Fucking tell me, Edison. What the fuck is going on?”
"?NO ME TOQUES, ALEJATE! (DON'T TOUCH ME, GET AWAY FROM ME!)" She screams while she pushes off my body and reaches inside her hoodie.
She looks fucking unhinged as she holds a bloody knife in the space between our bodies.
I lift my hands up, and it fucking hits me…
this crazy girl fucked someone up tonight.
“I don’t know what you’re fucking saying,” I tell her sincerely as she snaps her face toward mine, “but I promise that you’re okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, Edison.
” I scan her up and down, and she looks like hell.
“I need to know who fucking did this to you.” I feel like my insides are being simmered by my own boiling blood, that’s how fucking mad I am. I need answers now.
“STAY BACK,” she shouts as my hands move to touch her. She jabs her blade forward just as I jump outta the way. “ Why the fuck are you here?” I knew she carried a knife, but this thing looks fucking lethal. And she looks just as deadly holding it up between us.
She’s five-foot nothing, staring me down while looking up at me. The crash of our eyes smashing into each other causes an even louder bang than her fists on the back door of the shop or Alvi’s tray falling to the floor.
“I’m the one asking the fucking questions,” I snap back and can tell that she’s finally getting it. I’m not fucking around. And if I hadn’t memorized every inch of her face, I would’ve missed catching her eyes widen to the size of hockey pucks.
She’s got it in her smartass head that the times I’ve actually gone to tutoring, I wasn’t paying attention. But I was just not into the fucking math.
“And right now, I need to know if you’re okay.
” We’re staring at each other. I can see her big fucking brain trying to work out how we’re both fucking here right now.
It’s a crazy fucking coincidence, one that I need an explanation for.
Along with every detail of what or who has her so upset. “So let’s fucking start there.”
We’re locked in like we’re one-on-one in a face-off, except this time, I get lost looking at her. And when she silently lifts her trembling, dimpled chin, I squeeze my hands together, forming fists that I’ll use against whoever the fuck messed with her.
“Edison, I’m gonna need your words. Spanish, English, I don’t give a fuck.” I sound fucking angry. Like, I’m ready to rip someone’s head off. I can’t dial it back when it comes to her.
Her wide eyes sink into slits, and she presses those pink lips together until they’re a tight little ball. This is what I’m used to seeing. Her murder eyes. It’s her signature look before she starts yelling at me. But right now she’s quiet. Silent. Stewing. And I don’t fucking like that either.
She’ll go toe-to-toe with me and not give a shit.
She’s fierce as fuck. This is the same girl who put herself in harm's way to save my sister. But right now, she’s fucking frozen where she stands.
“FUCKING ANSWER ME!” It’s all or nothing, and right now, I need her to give me something…
anything. Scratch that, it’s just ALL at this point.
I’ve tried “nothing” and half-ass attempts to manage these feelings for her.
I’ve tried to show up for tutoring for twenty minutes or not at all.
I’ve tried ignoring this. I’ve been fighting it tooth and fucking nail.
But I can’t anymore. And I’m getting angrier by the fucking second, the longer that I look at her.
Because everything I feel when it comes to her is so fucking big that it's my ALL and then some. It's like she's in control. I can't get myself back to who I was before she weaseled her way into me.
I feel it in my chest. It's like she's hanging off my rib cage and kicking me in the fucking heart. That's what she feels like. The equivalent of a brutal cross-check. The kind that knocks the wind outta you and leaves a giant bruise on your chest.
She’s also a fucking stunner. She’s gorgeous in this, fuck around and find out, kinda way.
She's got these thick black eyelashes that are like barbed wire around her eyes. It’s protection against anyone trying to look into her soul.
I stare into them anyway. I don't give a fuck if I get cut. She can tear me to shreds.
She’s got on a black beanie, and her black hair is in a messy braid over her shoulder.
Her face is perfect - even with smeared blood on her skin.
She’s got a freckle on her bottom lip and a dimple in her chin.
She doesn’t wear any makeup, and she doesn’t have to.
Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are red, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
And she looks fucking beautiful just like this.
It’s fucked up, but I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She makes me feel insane enough to fly right into her fire.
That's how fucking attractive she is, and it’s fucking concerning. And it’s not just because she’s pretty. It’s how she wrangles me in. She has power over me. It makes my cock hard and the rest of me fucking crazy.
She’s like a drug. I’ve done everything I can to shut my cravings down. It won’t go away, and since last Fall, it’s been uncontrollable. And now I’m feeling strung out seeing her in front of me like this.
I hate feelings. They’re stupid, but she makes me feel things. Too many fucking things. And right now, I’m irritated and aggravated.
This is the quietest and stillest I’ve ever seen her, and I don’t fucking think before I gently grip her biceps to get her to react to me. Within a second of me touching her arms, she’s throwing my hands off her body.
“ ?NO ME TOQUES CARAJO! (DONT TOUCH ME, DAMNIT!) Get your hands off me!!”
“I didn’t mean-,”
“ASí ES, ?CóMO PODRíA OLVIDARLO?(THAT’S RIGHT, HOW COULD I FORGET?) You never mean anything, right? Well, how about this… I was never here; you never saw me. You understand?” She’s whispering, but her tone is loud and fucking clear.
She looks rabid right now. Like she’s planning on gutting me with that switchblade if I don’t move out of her way. Well, I guess this is how I die.
“I need to go. You say a fucking word, I’ll saw your toes off. See if you can play hockey then, pendejo .” Why the fuck am I smiling right now?!
“You’re a pretty little lunatic, you know that?”
“And you’re in my way. ?MUéVETE! ” She tries to step towards the front door of the shop, and I move with her, just as Alvi runs back into the shop.
“What happened back there?” He asks, sounding out of breath from running out the door after he let her in.
His fingers fly across his phone screen while he looks down as he walks past us to the front windows and looks outside.
“I’m pulling up the camera footage now, so don’t fucking lie to me. Who hurt you out there?”
“What makes you think I’m the one who got hurt? Puedo manejarme solo. (I can handle myself),” I don’t know what the last part meant, but she sounded fucking proud of herself saying it.
“What does that mean? My Spanish is a little rusty,” Alv says, blocking the door and crossing his arms over his chest.
“It means I can handle myself. I’m leaving. Thanks for letting me pass through.” She lifts her chin and narrows her eyes like she’s sending a warning to the world not to fuck with her. Too fucking bad. Sweetheart.
“What’d the camera show, man?” I don’t take my eyes off of her. If I do, she’ll be gone, and thinking about that has me feeling fucking insane for the second time today.
Earlier, she made me feel so fucking impulsive that I got it in my head that I needed a black cat tattooed on my chest. Because I watched her fade away once, and I couldn’t fucking stand it. When I saw her again today, I was instantly convinced that she’s got nine lives. And I want all of them.