Josh POV
I looked down, just as a thump hit my chest. Penelope had finally fell asleep, not able to keep her head held up any longer. She was still in a sitting position, but slouched to the side, her head placed firmly on my chest. And that was where I wanted her. Next to me, because no matter how cheesy it sounded, I wanted to protect her. Make sure nobody like Will ever got close enough to even breathe in the same direction as her. The image of her, bloody and broken, sitting on the curb, under the night sky and the sticky yellow light of the street lamp, continuously burned through my mind. At first I had no clue what happened, but once her cold brown eyes turned to me, I knew. And all I wanted to do at that moment was take my car, track Will down and run him over until even Hannibal Lecter was crying.
What I didn't get what how any human being, no matter how douchey or fucked up, could beat some one like Will did Penelope. The way she had gotten in my car, so...so, disheartened. So bruised and battered. Forever sore. It made my lungs stop working, my heart tear into pieces, and my brain fall into a rage. Every fiber of my being protested against her pain.
When I asked, she said she was fine. But I knew better than that. The angry red marks at the side of her head told a whole other story. I didn't even want to think about the next time I would see Will. I didn't even want to think about it.
She said the reason he had hit her was because she didn't want him to take it any further than kissing. So she stopped him, he got angry, she slapped him, and he hit her back. And didn't stop. The fact that it all stemmed from this made me even angrier. That it all came from his raging hormones. That because of his doucherey, Penelope was beaten, lying on my lap.
Which of course I was okay with. Her lying on my lap and all.
I shifted a little on the couch, pushing my self farther down and giving Penelope more lying room. She made a faint noise. I was almost maybe %110 kind of certain that It sounded a hell of a lot like my name. But I brushed it off, thinking it was just a coincidence. No way in hell would she be dreaming about me. That would be inconceivable. I pulled a blanket over Penelope's huddled form and averted my attention back to the TV.
When I had had enough of watching shows and bits and pieces of movies, Penelope was in a profound slumber. As motionlessly as I could possibly manage, I swiped her up bride style. Her feel hung over my arm and her head lolled against my chest. She was a little heavy, but the perfect kind of heavy...Okay even I don't know what that means...What am I talking about yes I do. It was like holding a panda toddler. Even though it may be heavy and hard to hold at times, your arms ache for its fluffiness and they don't mind the weight.
I made sure to avoid squeezing her midsection too hard, she had been clutching it all night. I assumed she had been hit there.
He hair was in messy, knotted waves around her head, and the blanket was tangled over her, dangling underneath her a little.
I got to the stairs just when Penelope began to wake up. Dammit. There went my chance in a profession of women carrying. She looked up at me, her eyes big and hopeful, maybe confused too. Uncertainty also mixed in. Then she spoke.
"Having fun playing Mr. Helpful for a night?"
"I'm a natural damsel in distress savior." I shrugged as I climbed the stairs. Whichever one of the guys chose the house with the longest stairs is going to be eaten tomorrow.
She looked at my face for a heartbeat longer, "That I am." and looked away, her expression going blank. I felt like an idiot for saying anything. The last thing I wanted to to was remind her of her horrifying night.
I reached my room at the end of the hallway at the top if the stairs. She breathed as I set her down on my bed. "This is your room?"
Penelope POV
