Where Promises Must Glide

11 - Theo/Juliette

Never has it felt so good to connect my fist to someone's face.

I've known how to throw a punch since I was seven. I could knock out someone since I was eleven. And I've been trained in use of multiple martial arts skills and weapons since I could walk. But I never once used those skills after I went to college.

Expect for right now.

Because, this, this is the most worth it moment of my life. The adrenaline shock pulsing through my veins, the pain in my jaw after stressing and tensing it for so long. This guy fights like a pussy, so much talk for such a pathetic use of oxygen.

"Don't ever fucking touch her or look at her again," I curse through gritted teeth. There is probably four people by now trying to pull us apart, but this guy just keep flaying his arms around thinking it's going to stop him. I have him pinned to the ground, throwing an unending amount of punches.

Finally, after I felt like he hand enough, I got up, and kicked him in the side. I started to walk away, but the guy was so persistent to yell. "My father will sue your ass!" He screamed, sitting up finally.

"Good, I look forward to hearing from daddy's little lawyers. I wonder if they also will be damned to know about the seven months of racked up harassment charges you have?" I smirk, looking back at him. It was impossible to hold back the smug look on my face when I watched him go pale.

I was ready to go back to Juliette, prepared for an apology as to why I beat up some guy after knowing her for so little time. Then it dawned on me. I beat up a guy for a girl I've known for two days.

If I had a book of things that have disappointed my father. This would be right below driving his motorcycle into the pool.

I glance around, looking for Juliette—not caring how my conscience made me feel—to find her standing in front of Ophelia's view. She probably didn't want her to see all that, which is understandable. I shrug off the slight ping in my chest from the sight of a shaking Juliette, before waiting for her to walk over to me.

Instead, I went to the bathroom, running cold water over my knuckles which decided to bleed on impact after the fourth harsh punch. I heard a knock in the door, so I yelled occupied. But then the sweet voice that brings strange feelings to my stomach spoke.

"It's me," she said, which prompted me to open the door within seconds. Her voice was so angelic, everything about her was perfect—down to her smile that had the cutest and almost unnoticeable dimples. When the door swung open, she stepped inside. Looking around, her eyes immediately went to my hands that were just swollen now.

"How is your hand," she finally spoke after looking at them for a minute. Before I could reply, she grabbed them softly, accessing them for herself. The coldness of her fingers mixed with the pulse of mine was almost like a shock of electricity.

I groan when she starts moving it to make sure nothings broken. "Could have been worse," I reassure her, but given her face, it wasn't very reassuring. When I glance back at her, her whole face was different. I furrowed my brows, giving her the is everything alright look. She shook her head, as if it pained her to speak.

"Theo my daughter could have saw that, if one of the parents didn't pull her away," she sighs, a small tear slivers down her eye and I have to force my hand from wiping it away. "This wasn't a good idea. I can't do this. Not to Ophelia, not to me. It isn't safe for her to be around someone like. . . this."

Her words are muttered so lightly it's impossible to hear. But her words also hurt so much for some reason, they sounded loud and clear to me. Never have something hurt so much in my life. "That's not what-" before I could finish, she stopped me. Her hand silenced me, but I could look at her.