The Virtual Affection | #Wattys2018

#13 Street Fight

Shit, I'm late. Dad will kill me.

Ellie had offered to drop me home but I'd declined, saying it would just take a fifteen minutes walk home. Now that it's dark and almost nine o'clock and my phone's dead, I'm wishing I'd left her house earlier. My curfew was probably six or something. I'm definitely going to be grounded till I'm fifty.

The streets are menacingly empty. A few cars whizz by and there are probably only hobos and stripper hitchhikers out on the streets at this time. I wrap my coat tighter around me as the gales get stronger.

As I pass the wayside pub, with its old neon hoarding and faint music busting out, I spot a few guys of our school outside the pub, leaning against a big red car parked at the curb. I recognise them as Dave's friends. Dave wasn't in sight.

I try to keep my head down as I pass them. But they notice me.

"Hey, Pukey!"

"Need a ride?"

I recognise the guy with broad shoulders as Aaron and another short guy as Tyler. I don't know the third guy. Whatever; there's no reason I should be afraid of them.

"No, thank you," I reply dryly but Aaron catches up with me and tries to take my wrist. I jerk it out of his grip. He smells strongly of liquor.

"Okay, okay," He raises his hands up, laughing, "Would you like to maybe have some snuggles in the backseat then?"

"Leave me alone," I yell, and he unexpectedly pins me against the wall of the pub.

"Come on, pukey," He hisses, as I squirm to get out his grip, "Just a tiny kiss?"   

"Get off!" I scream. I hear one of the guys snort behind him. The other guy looks a little concerned, "Leave it, dude."

Suddenly, I hear a warm voice that makes me breathe in relief.

"What the fuck, Aaron. Let her go."

Aaron glances behind him to see my man standing there with a bemused expression on his face, holding a few beer bottles. So he'd gone in to buy drinks.

Aaron ignores him, "Buzz out, Rodriguez." He turns towards me, "Where were we, sweetie? Just one little..."

He brings his face threateningly close and I work on reflex. I reach out to his cheek with all my might and shortly feel my palm stinging. The guys seem as shocked as I am.

Aaron flexes his jaw and turns back at me, "So that's how you want it to be."

His broad shoulders close in on me as my face is muffled in his jacket.

As he digs his face forcefully down on mine, I feel a hand grab him by the shoulder, pull him off and blow a punch at his face.

The two guys who were probably engrossed in the street show now look alarmed. A sudden pain sears up my throat, making me gasp - It probably hurts from the pressure.

"Dave, man!" One of them say, shocked. Dave stands his ground, fists clenched and his brows furrowed. "I told you to leave her alone."

Aaron straightens himself and wipes the blood off his chin. Without warning, he throws a great punch at Dave's face. Dave stumbles to the ground. Aaron was doubtlessly bigger and stronger than him.

I rush in to help, but the other guys help him up and keep both of them from lashing out at each other again.

"A fucking chick over your best friend?" Aaron yells at him, "Fucking nice, man!"

"Screw you."

Aaron gets into his car with the two other guys, before slamming the doors shut.

"Are you okay?" Dave asks, "Is it your throat? Geez, did he try to strangle you?"

"No," I say, gulping the cramp, "I have a fragile lymph node, that's all. Gosh, your lip's bleeding!"

"Yeah," he grunts, checking the wound on his lip.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"What for?"

"Now you don't have a ride."

"Do you always apologize for faults that aren't yours?" He says, looking a little disgruntled, "I'll catch a cab or something."

I give him a smile. "Thanks. You fought with your best friend for me."

He huffs into the night air, "They were drunk. Aaron didn't actually mean you any harm; it was just an idea of fun for those guys. But I guess he was too drunk to notice that he was hurting you. Asshole."

"Yeah. Being drunk does awful things to you," I pause and add, "I'd know."

Dave laughs, "See you, Sarah."

I resume towards home as he leaves.

My heart is still beating fast and my head is giddy.

My steps quicken.

I can feel the heat crawling in my cheeks. I feel a small smile on my lips.

Dave actually fought for me! He punched his best friend! I'm so glad that jerk attacked me, or I never would have discovered this heroic side of Dave.

I immediately slap myself mentally on realising what I just thought.

Where was all this desperation and insanity come from?

No, I can't let him do this to me. I need to keep a hold on myself. The things Dave makes me think sometimes, the feelings he make me feels - it makes me dangerously swerve out of life's existential highway of sensibility.

As I reach my doorstep, I hesitate for a few moments. Then I slowly push open the door, hoping Dad didn't lock it and hoping it doesn't creak.

After entering, I take my shoes and coat off and tiptoe my way upstairs when I hear Dad's voice from the living room.

"Sarah, is that you?"

Crap.

I make my way into the living room just in time to see Dad hurriedly switch the television off which seemed to be playing some sappy Nicholas Sparks film and wipe his eyes before turning to me with a glare.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

I keep my head down, "Sorry."

"I'm tired of this, Sarah. It's hard for me to manage things as they are, you know."

When I don't say anything, he sighs, "I get worried for you, you know that."

Yeah. He always is.

"You're grounded. Now go wash up for dinner."

Once he leaves the room, I plop down on the couch. After the exhaustion passes, I walk over to the TV set out of curiosity.

I'm pretty surprised at what I see. It's not a Nicholas Sparks CD that my Dad was watching.

I shrug and flip it back over the counter, trying to ignore a sudden ache in my heart.

I thought Dad, of all people, hated reminders.