𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒆

09. 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑲𝑬

As I pull into the driveway, I can see Fallon's eager fingers in my peripheral, curling over the door handle.

    It was a silent drive, to say the least. She spent it pretending to be interested in every street corner and mailbox we passed, never tearing her eyes away from the window.

    I feel like the world's biggest jackass. Fallon never wanted to go to Lottie's but I pressured her into it. Now she's stuck with the horrible memory of that Elvis-looking guy groping her.

    She was out of my sight for two fucking minutes, damnit. One second she was flipping me off and disappearing into the crowd, and the next thing I knew, Fallon was tapping me on the shoulder, telling me it was time to go.

    I shift the gear to park and within a second, her door is clicking open. Without giving it much thought, I lurch over her and pull it shut before she can exit.

    She doesn't put up resistance, but she does huff and cross her arms, a scowl forming on her face. "So you're holding hostages now?"

    I stay quiet, struggling to string together enough words to form a decent sentence. Sorry, I'm responsible for your shitty night, Higgs. I wanted you to have a bad time, but not like this.

    "Oh, and you're torturing me with silence? How will I ever survive?" She half snorts — half chuckles.

    I look at her. "Will you let me think for twenty seconds? Please." I turn the ignition off and pull my keys.

    "Don't hurt yourself." She crosses her legs, impatiently tapping her finger on her arm. After a brief moment, she speaks again, "You should know I'm counting down in my head. You're at nine, eight, seven..." Her voice trails off slightly.

    "Higgs," I sigh, exasperated. "Can you not be so damn difficult so I can apologize?"

    She stills for a heavy second. Her eyes softened slightly. "Apologize? For what?"

    I release a breath. "I shouldn't have taken you to Lottie's. And I shouldn't have let you out of my sight when you got up with him. I'm the one who encouraged you to keep up the conversation with that asshole. It's all my fault."

    Her brows etch together, and she turns her gaze down to her clutch as she fidgets with the little latch. She breathes in, a heavy silence filling the stagnant air.

    "It's not your fault," Fallon says softly. "As much as I'd love to blame all my inconveniences on you..." She looks up teasingly. But when her eyes catch mine and she sees that I'm not sharing her note of levity, her slight attempt at a smile dissipates.

    Fallon bites her bottom lip, looking straight ahead. "It's not your fault," she repeats. This time, any trace of lingering humor is gone from her voice, replaced by earnestness. "It's all his fault, okay? I guess no one ever taught him how to handle rejection."

    I shake my head and lift my hand to try and run my fingers through my hair. It's a nervous habit. "If I hadn't—"

"Oh my god!" Fallon catches my hand, pulling it closer to her as a blunt pain surges from the back of my hand. "How hard did you punch him?" Her eyes widen, and I notice for the first time in the dim light the bruise forming over my knuckles.

"How hard did I punch him?" I scoff. "It's a punch, Higgs. As hard as I fucking could. You don't half-punch someone."

    She purses her lips, running soft and delicate fingers over the bruise, barely grazing the surface of the skin. "Does it hurt?"

    Like hell. "It'll be fine." I take my hand back and she looks me up with annoyance, quickly reaching out and carefully pulling it so she can look it over. I don't fight it, mostly because her gentle touch sends a small rush of electricity up my arm and down my spine.