Safety At His Command

Caught in the Fray

“What do you mean, kids like you?” William asked as he turned back to her.

“I don’t know how obvious it is, but we’re very clearly not with the rich and famous and certainly not welcome among the working class,” she said gesturing at him, being that was the category he knew he fit in with.

“You can’t tell me that’s the only reason you hang out with him,” he pushed, his tone accusing.

He watched as her brow furrowed further while she weighed the necessity of answering him.

“Why does it matter that one person in this whole building of seven grand and change, gives an actual s**t about me?” she asked carefully, dropping her eyes away from him. “I don’t even know why he bothers talking to me, but it feels nice to be noticed and almost be cared for,” she admitted, then gasped trying to erase the fact that she had said it.

“What if I do too?” William forced out of him figuring this would be his only chance to take that leap but it had been tangled in her own response to herself at the same time, and he was sure it got lost within her “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

“It matters. Just like the decision to stand up against my dad today,” William answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as if it would anchor him to the ground, not to be waived by the onslaught that was most likely coming. 

Girls didn’t like being put in their place, or reminded that they had one, and his remark only satisfied the need for a fight.

But she didn’t give one…

Instead she looked back at the door, panicking again for her choice and then back to him.

“Whatever your reasoning was back there,” she began, assuring him of the fact that she did not hear him at all. “I’m going to need that note and to avoid the trouble missing my class is going to provide me.”

William watched while she fidgeted with her sleeves, trying to control her nerves in the process.

He sighed, then swore… pulling her attention from whatever she was battling in her head back to him.

“I was on my way out, honestly,” he said as her eyes found his again. “But we can stop in one of the art rooms to get a pair of scissors to fish it out of the abyss,” he said, motioning at his bottom hem. Change jingled as he tapped it and because of the gesture, he assumed, her features softened more. “There’s a hole in the pocket, see,” he began explaining himself, “that’s really no more than half my finger, maybe less…”

“Maybe the size of mine? I wouldn't want you to ruin your clothes on a count of me,” she said with mock honesty.

“If it curbed your concern I wouldn't consider it ruined,” he murmured back.

The timid girl took a slight step towards him, pointing at his pocket in question with her own hand, looking to check. All the while his face burned brightly with anticipation as she moved to try at his nod.

Yes he wanted her there. He wanted her as close as she would get without feeling the need to run away again. It was as if he was the land and she was the sea. There was so much to know and so much effort for her to trust him, and there he stood, promising her that she could and that he wouldn’t hurt her. And so he told himself if it was what she needed, he would be it. He would transform for her.

The moment her slender fingers found the inside of his pocket he shuddered at the prospects of what she could touch. If she moved to the left, she’d press against his toned stomach, and gods he hoped she liked that, if the action occurred of course. Or if she went down, which essentially was the direction she’d need to go, she had the potential of touching him or his leg, he chastised himself for thinking that way… but her touch was something he craved in all essences.

William was confident that if for any reason she decided to lean on him, or gods help him if she hugged him, he would collapse on the spot. His crush had him going to school just to put up with the bullshit of the years in the past so he could see her. And now, today, she’s giving him all of her attention for a little scrap of paper she’s terrified of anyone else finding. His conscious kicked that fact out to him reminding him that it wasn’t just to be with him and that stung, but maybe she could want him too.

Her fingers pressed, in a testing manner against the seam of his pocket, looking for the hole and he could have died. She was so careful. So attentive to his every move, every breath that she even happened to ask if he wanted to take it off if she was making him that uncomfortable.

It took all he was not to panic and lose their connection, not yet anyway. He assured her his response was nothing and that she could continue and was relieved when she did despite every missed opportunity to communicate clearly to her that he wanted to be there with her.

The face she made when she found the tiny hole had been delightful. At first she was delighted, but as she stroked it and poked around, she too found that she wouldn’t be able to get in there, not at the rate that she was currently working it anyway.

Malorie sighed and moved a fraction of an inch closer to him which made his body twitch. He felt it first in his chest, then arms which he willed to keep at his sides instead of follow through with their mindless need to pull her close. Then he felt his legs tremble lightly, wanting to only get closer, but that wouldn’t do either. One of his steps forward would nudge her down a stair and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he accidentally knocked her down the flight of stairs behind her.

If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead she worked her other hand against the bottom of his hem, working the fabric in circles to feed whatever she could back up to him. The first up was a coin, she let him know what kind each time.

“You’ve regained a dollar and thirty seven cents, enough sand to repack maybe five packets of salt, and I still haven’t found the,” Malorie trails as his hand covers hers to guide it to where she had missed.

He feels the way she pulls against him and it hurts a little that she would still be having second thoughts about carrying this through. Maybe they should have just gotten the scissors like he initially planned and been done with it already.

Steps rang out just down the hall from the doors making him jump but just enough to nod in the direction they should go, just down the stairs to the next landing and to the corner off to the side not to be found. She went with him without a fleeting thought, like it was choreographed, or that she was in his mind with him. She went and let his form crowd her into the corner. She stayed silent as a mouse while he shielded her from onlookers as they have been searching for either of them, but the clacking continued, dutifully down the rest of the west end until they eventually stopped and the pair could breathe easier.

Before he could say another word, her hand meticulously worked the crumbled paper back through the tiny hole in his pocket, her own relieved sigh gave him life, and within an instant she pulled out a lighter that was unlike any sort he had ever seen to set the evidence of what his father wrote on fire.

William couldn’t help the way he stepped back from it as if it would spread, but she reached for him, clutching his sweatshirt to pull him back to her, then ushered her message in a hushed tone, “this is our little secret.”

And before he could handle rational thought, she pressed her lips to where she could reach. Her lips felt so soft at the side of his cheek. It made him delirious and recovering felt a world away, but then she was releasing her grip on him the moment the flame was out, which was far too soon in his opinion.

“Thank you for this,” she blinked up at him with a worried expression all over again and rushed off down the remainder of the stairs before he could say anything at all.