Where Promises Must Glide

21 - Theo

It wasn't hard to get the guy to put up a fight. It was obvious he wasn't the one who was about to black out, like Juliette was right now.

"What you think your some tough guy?" He scoffs, getting in a stance like he is ready to fight me. Bouncing around on his feet, making grabby hands at me like some guy who's seen one Rocky movie and suddenly thinks he's the shit.

"I don't know, let me beat your ass first to find out for the both of us," I say, fist clenched harder than I expected. My skin was turning a paler color of white than Juliette's skin right now. I wanted to go to her first, make sure she didn't get sick. But this guy was not batting down.

He threw the first punch, which I caught. "Probably should take a few fighting lessons before you try playing Mr. Tough Guy," I taunt. I help his fist in my hand, while the other connected with his face. Then the brawl began.

His punch's weren't painful, it was the kick to the stomach that really got me though. After every single hit—from me or him—I'd always take a glance at Juliette, who looked like she was struggling to stand up. I don't think she was about to black out, throw up maybe, but even with her low tolerance, she wasn't near blacking out.

When I stole a glance at Juliette, the guy took it as an opportunity to sucker punch me in the jaw. Usually, if you hit hard enough, that's an immediate knock out. This guy; threw like a baby.

So I reciprocated the punch, since I was completely done with putting up a childish fight. I grabbed his wrist before his hand could make contact with my face again, and right hooked him. That was an immediate knock out.

But Juliette screamed as he hit the ground. "What the hell!" She yelled, watery eyes looking at me.

"He will get up in an hour with a bad headache and bruised jaw, he will live," I say sarcastically. This was probably the worst moment for sarcasm, but I hated the idea of her worrying about some asshole. She always had that in her, worrying and taking care of those who didn't do anything in return. She also always worried about people's feelings, too scared and afraid to hurt them.

I grabbed her arm, but saw the sway as she walked. It wasn't her usual one, the one that makes me boggle every time. This time, she looked like she had to coordinate where each step was being made. I picked her up, bridal style, and brought her to the truck, buckling her in.

Every touch I took while putting the seat belt on sent electricity through my body. My hand would graze her dress—that barely contained a legal amount of cloth—and I'd feel a pulse in my hand from where my fingertips touched. It was such an indescribable feeling, but I never wanted it to end.

Once I made it to the other side, she already had her head leaning against the window, and slacked in the seat. I grabbed her shoulder, and pushed her into a seated position, back straight and head facing forward, so if she passed out and/or threw up, she wouldn't choke.

"Are your friends in a similar condition?" I ask, not even turning on the car yet. "Do they have a driver to take them home? Anything safe?" Even though I've probably seen her friends once or twice—only when they've came over for an at-home girls night—I still worry about the people Juliette cares for. Those worth carrying for.

But Juliette probably told them about me being a bitch and ignoring her—which is probably the stupidest thing I've done in my life, and there are hard things to beat. "No," she finally breaks the silence, her voice had a struggle to it that had me clenching my fists against the steering wheel. "Ilexia is sober enough to order a Uber for everyone."

I nodded, keeping my response to a minimal, before turning the keys and starting the car.

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