*
I’d just taken a seat to start my meal when he approached from the other side of the counter. He placed a set of keys right next to my plate and said, “Take your time, I’ll be done in an hour. You can wait in my car. Put the heat on.”
I don’t know what I’d done to deserve his generosity, but I sure was grateful for it. “Are you sure?”
He nodded slowly as his hand reached up and moved my hair behind my ear. His touch was warm. Safe. “Just stay okay? Don’t leave without me.”
I returned his nod, not knowing what else to do.
*
Even though I had a safe, warm place to go after my meal, for some reason I felt safer being in the same room as him—a complete stranger. So, I took my time eating. Occasionally I’d catch him staring at me with a frown that made me squirm in my seat. After an hour, he removed his apron and sat down next to me. “You ready?” he asked, looking down at his phone.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
He glanced up then—an almost shy smile on his face. His gaze moved from me to the darkness outside. The rain had stopped but it was windy. The type of crippling, cold wind I hated. When his eyes moved back to mine, his smile got wider. He reached up and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt I was wearing over my head, then reached into his pocket and grabbed a pair of woolen gloves. He started to carefully place them over my hands, and I let him. I even let him hold my hand afterward to guide me down from my seat. He held it all the way to his car while he opened the door and helped me get seated. The entire time I fought to keep the grin off my face.
It’d been a long time since someone had cared, but Steven did, and I had absolutely no idea why.
“You’re safe now,” he said as if somehow reading my thoughts. He smiled again before closing my door and making his way around to the driver’s side. Once he was settled, he turned to me. “I’m house-sitting for a friend. They’ll be back in a few days. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’d like for you to stay there, just until they get back.”
My heart slammed against my chest. It was then I understood what was happening, and as much as I wanted the warmth and comfort of a roof and a bed, I just couldn’t do it. “I won’t sleep with you,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle.
His hand on my forearm squeezed tight and froze me to my spot. A scream threatened in my throat, and I tried to pull out of his hold. He released me quickly and without a fight, his hands going up in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t mean to put my hands on you like that. I promise you, that’s not what this is. You can stay at the house. Different beds. Different rooms. Hell, you can take the entire house, I’ll sleep in my damn car.”
I stared at him, eyes wide in shock.
His phone rang; cutting off whatever response I was struggling to form. He sighed before answering the phone and lifting it to his ear. “I was working. What happened? Are you okay?” He released a relieved breath. “So what’s up?”
He waited for a beat. “What kind of help, Ky?” he asked, his eyes moving to mine. Gently, he took my hand in his and squeezed once, as if assuring me of what he’d said earlier. He mouthed a thank you and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one and then offering them to me. I shook my head the same time he said into the phone, “You’re after drugs, aren’t you?”
I tensed.
Drugs.
He was a drug dealer.
I hated drugs.
And I hated everything that came with them.
I made a move to get out again, but he held my hand, his eyes narrowed as he searched my face.
“No,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or the person on the phone.
He turned the car on and cranked up the heat. “Because, Ky, you’re not like that. I’m not going to be responsible for—”
Whatever the Ky person said must’ve cut him off. He lifted both my hands and placed them in front of the air vents. Covering the phone, he whispered to me, “I’ll be back,” and then stepped out of the car.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the seat. What the hell was I going to do? Before I got a moment to think, his door opened, and he sat down again. “I’m sorry,” he told me. “That was my brother. I gotta help him out with something.”
“You’re a drug dealer?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “Not at all. But I’ll be honest with you, I’m going to help my brother get some. There’s this field party happening not far from here, I’ll get him what he wants and then we’ll leave. And I meant what I said, I’ll sleep in my car. You can have the house to yourself. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I promise.”
“Why?” I asked.
He sighed. “What’s your name?”
My voice came out a whisper. “B-Bailey.”
“It’s a pleasure, Bailey. I’m Steven.”
“So?” I pressed.
“So what?”
“So why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”
“Because…” He placed his hands in front of the air vents. “We all need saving at some point, and I’m here to save you.”
*
He didn’t get out when a car pulled into the parking lot. We drove to a field in complete silence, neither one of us speaking. But he held my hand—not in an intimate way, but a comforting way—and it worked. He made me feel safe.
Once we were out of the car, I kept my head lowered, not making eye contact with his brother or the guy who showed up a phone call and a few minutes later to supply the drugs.
I followed Steven’s lead and sat on the hood of his brother’s car while they talked. “Is this weird?” his brother asked while Steven went to his car for something.
I shrugged and removed Steven’s gloves, not knowing how else to respond.
I was all too familiar with the smell of weed, so I knew what they were smoking. At one point, his brother offered me the joint. “No, thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I didn’t want to show how much I despised what they were doing. They talked for a bit while Steven took my hand in his, and I felt my heart tighten again—just like it did when he placed the gloves over my hands.
I listened as they spoke about themselves, their lives, their dad, and I realized it then—Steven’s words from earlier held more truth than I knew.
Steven—he needed saving just as much as I did.
“You remember what I said the day I told you I was leaving?” Steven asked his brother. He didn’t wait for a response before adding, “You said ‘you shouldn’t let ’em take it.’ I asked you what the hell you were talking about. You said ‘You, Steve, don’t let them own you.’” Steven shifted next to me, and I pretended not to see him wipe at his eyes. “But here I am, Ky, letting them take me. And you know why? Because that pain I feel, it’s inside me. Just like it’s inside you, and no amount of drugs can change that.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and the second his lips pressed against it, my stomach filled with butterflies.
I found myself leaning into him, trying to find a way to comfort him the way he’d done for me. He cared. And as stupid as it sounds considering we’d only met a few hours ago, I felt connected to him somehow. Like we were both living a lie; hoping that someday we’d mean something.
I’d just taken a seat to start my meal when he approached from the other side of the counter. He placed a set of keys right next to my plate and said, “Take your time, I’ll be done in an hour. You can wait in my car. Put the heat on.”
I don’t know what I’d done to deserve his generosity, but I sure was grateful for it. “Are you sure?”
He nodded slowly as his hand reached up and moved my hair behind my ear. His touch was warm. Safe. “Just stay okay? Don’t leave without me.”
I returned his nod, not knowing what else to do.
*
Even though I had a safe, warm place to go after my meal, for some reason I felt safer being in the same room as him—a complete stranger. So, I took my time eating. Occasionally I’d catch him staring at me with a frown that made me squirm in my seat. After an hour, he removed his apron and sat down next to me. “You ready?” he asked, looking down at his phone.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
He glanced up then—an almost shy smile on his face. His gaze moved from me to the darkness outside. The rain had stopped but it was windy. The type of crippling, cold wind I hated. When his eyes moved back to mine, his smile got wider. He reached up and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt I was wearing over my head, then reached into his pocket and grabbed a pair of woolen gloves. He started to carefully place them over my hands, and I let him. I even let him hold my hand afterward to guide me down from my seat. He held it all the way to his car while he opened the door and helped me get seated. The entire time I fought to keep the grin off my face.
It’d been a long time since someone had cared, but Steven did, and I had absolutely no idea why.
“You’re safe now,” he said as if somehow reading my thoughts. He smiled again before closing my door and making his way around to the driver’s side. Once he was settled, he turned to me. “I’m house-sitting for a friend. They’ll be back in a few days. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’d like for you to stay there, just until they get back.”
My heart slammed against my chest. It was then I understood what was happening, and as much as I wanted the warmth and comfort of a roof and a bed, I just couldn’t do it. “I won’t sleep with you,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle.
His hand on my forearm squeezed tight and froze me to my spot. A scream threatened in my throat, and I tried to pull out of his hold. He released me quickly and without a fight, his hands going up in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t mean to put my hands on you like that. I promise you, that’s not what this is. You can stay at the house. Different beds. Different rooms. Hell, you can take the entire house, I’ll sleep in my damn car.”
I stared at him, eyes wide in shock.
His phone rang; cutting off whatever response I was struggling to form. He sighed before answering the phone and lifting it to his ear. “I was working. What happened? Are you okay?” He released a relieved breath. “So what’s up?”
He waited for a beat. “What kind of help, Ky?” he asked, his eyes moving to mine. Gently, he took my hand in his and squeezed once, as if assuring me of what he’d said earlier. He mouthed a thank you and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one and then offering them to me. I shook my head the same time he said into the phone, “You’re after drugs, aren’t you?”
I tensed.
Drugs.
He was a drug dealer.
I hated drugs.
And I hated everything that came with them.
I made a move to get out again, but he held my hand, his eyes narrowed as he searched my face.
“No,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or the person on the phone.
He turned the car on and cranked up the heat. “Because, Ky, you’re not like that. I’m not going to be responsible for—”
Whatever the Ky person said must’ve cut him off. He lifted both my hands and placed them in front of the air vents. Covering the phone, he whispered to me, “I’ll be back,” and then stepped out of the car.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the seat. What the hell was I going to do? Before I got a moment to think, his door opened, and he sat down again. “I’m sorry,” he told me. “That was my brother. I gotta help him out with something.”
“You’re a drug dealer?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “Not at all. But I’ll be honest with you, I’m going to help my brother get some. There’s this field party happening not far from here, I’ll get him what he wants and then we’ll leave. And I meant what I said, I’ll sleep in my car. You can have the house to yourself. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I promise.”
“Why?” I asked.
He sighed. “What’s your name?”
My voice came out a whisper. “B-Bailey.”
“It’s a pleasure, Bailey. I’m Steven.”
“So?” I pressed.
“So what?”
“So why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”
“Because…” He placed his hands in front of the air vents. “We all need saving at some point, and I’m here to save you.”
*
He didn’t get out when a car pulled into the parking lot. We drove to a field in complete silence, neither one of us speaking. But he held my hand—not in an intimate way, but a comforting way—and it worked. He made me feel safe.
Once we were out of the car, I kept my head lowered, not making eye contact with his brother or the guy who showed up a phone call and a few minutes later to supply the drugs.
I followed Steven’s lead and sat on the hood of his brother’s car while they talked. “Is this weird?” his brother asked while Steven went to his car for something.
I shrugged and removed Steven’s gloves, not knowing how else to respond.
I was all too familiar with the smell of weed, so I knew what they were smoking. At one point, his brother offered me the joint. “No, thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I didn’t want to show how much I despised what they were doing. They talked for a bit while Steven took my hand in his, and I felt my heart tighten again—just like it did when he placed the gloves over my hands.
I listened as they spoke about themselves, their lives, their dad, and I realized it then—Steven’s words from earlier held more truth than I knew.
Steven—he needed saving just as much as I did.
“You remember what I said the day I told you I was leaving?” Steven asked his brother. He didn’t wait for a response before adding, “You said ‘you shouldn’t let ’em take it.’ I asked you what the hell you were talking about. You said ‘You, Steve, don’t let them own you.’” Steven shifted next to me, and I pretended not to see him wipe at his eyes. “But here I am, Ky, letting them take me. And you know why? Because that pain I feel, it’s inside me. Just like it’s inside you, and no amount of drugs can change that.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and the second his lips pressed against it, my stomach filled with butterflies.
I found myself leaning into him, trying to find a way to comfort him the way he’d done for me. He cared. And as stupid as it sounds considering we’d only met a few hours ago, I felt connected to him somehow. Like we were both living a lie; hoping that someday we’d mean something.
