Robin des Bois ✓

fourteen. Dead End

I fought back against the tears gathering in my eyes. I couldn't understand how I'd let this happen. How I'd let him slide from between my fingers.

He'd been right there, and I'd let him go.

I counted to ten in my head -cliché, I know -and when it didn't work, I counted to zero backwards. I was still infuriated.

I'd been staring at the spot where the motorcycle disappeared for so long that my eyes burned. I blinked, suddenly snapping out of my trance-like state at the sound of approaching footsteps.

I don't know why I expected Gabe to be as upset as I was, or to at least pretend that he was, for appearances' sake. Of course, he didn't bother with either. Instead, he said "You hit like a baby."

For a moment, my brain refused to compute the words. It simply couldn't comprehend how someone could issue such an absurd statement in a situation like this.

Then it remembered that this was Gabe, and what would've been truly surprising was if he'd actually said something sensible.

And yet the fact that he hadn't still infuriated me.

"Really?" I whirled on my heel to face him. "You hit like a baby? That's what you've got to say?"

For the sake of my sanity, I probably should have kept my back to him, because when my eyes landed on his face I found him smiling. My fists clenched at my sides, and if I hadn't been so sure of the fact that trying to punch him was futile -as suggested by his comment -I probably would've tried to knock some sense into him. And if I could wipe that smirk off his lips in the process, it would definitely have been a bonus.

He shrugged, looking completely unaffected by my agitation. "I'm just saying it for your own good. If that had been someone ill-intentioned, you'd be lying dead in that back alley."

"That's so irrelevant!" I cried, burying one hand in my hair and tugging at it in frustration.

I glared up at him, only to be met with his slightly amused expression. I couldn't help but gape at him as I recalled our brief moment of proximity. Now that I thought about it, I could still feel the touch of his thumb right under my lower lip like a fresh burn, pulsing with each of my heartbeats.

I felt my cheeks heat up and my gaze involuntarily drifted south, zeroing in on his crotch, only to realize that what I'd mistaken for a raging boner was actually a wallet tucked into his pocket. My blush grew exponentially and I took a step back, tearing my gaze away from him. "Forget it," I mumbled, mortified, as I retreated towards his car.

"Is it me or were you staring at my crotch just now?" he called after me and I quickened my pace as the heat migrated from my cheeks to my chest.

I heard his heavy sigh and then a hand rested on my shoulder. "Wait."

I stopped and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. It wouldn't be long before the streetlights would turn on, marking the end of this catastrophic day. As I closed my eyes, I could feel the tears gathering behind my eyelids, menacing to spill at any second.

I was so tired.

So tired of running around, chasing shadows and coming up empty handed.

So tired of always looking over my shoulder and wondering if someone was watching me.

But most of all, I was tired of having no one to blame for all of it other than myself. Because in the end, all of this was my fault.

Not for the first time, I asked myself if all the good intentions in the world could justify my actions.