I'll Take A Bullet For You

Chapter 7

I don't find Lena or Hailee yet. I have held the same glass of punch for an hour. I've went everywhere with great fear, and dodged many people that seemed drunk and wanting to spend time with me. Like a gold particle in a million rocks, I reach an empty corridor. It's short and has a door at the end, an emergency exit perhaps. The battery in my phone is dead--bad preparation on my part--so I can't call my friends either, anyone for that matter. I stand there for a while, soaking in the silence. My glass is still full.

        The exit door opens and a flicker of movement catches my attention. Alistair freezes when he sees me. I try not to stare and wait for him to pass by. He doesn't move, and I want him to stay. Why do I want this? I decide to take a peek at him, and notice his stare fixed back on me. His gaze cruises my flushed neck, the curves of my dress, and stops at the hem. Faint music filters into the corridor with muffled laughter.

        "Oh, we meet again!" someone says. I turn around and see Greg just around the corner with a bottle in his hand. "Oh sweet, Jesus. I hope I'm not in'erruptin' anythin'." He stares from me to Alistair, smirks, and stops raggedly in front of me. His eyes slide off my face and move down, down, down. "Whaz this thing?" His hand falls on the lace fabric above my chest. "Whyze this here?"

        "Stop touching me," I warn and step away from him. Greg laughs loudly, and it's high like a crow's. I try to look past his shoulder towards Alistair, but I'm too short.

        "I'm escapin' Leif. He be killin' me ri'now if he sees me with ya," he slurs. He doesn't seem to know what he's saying. His breath reeks of alcohol as he presses a knee between my two legs. My body tenses with panic, and I search for something to hit him with. My eyes settle on my drink. "Relax, baby doll. This be very fun, huh?" he says, smirking seductively.

        Just like that, Greg is pulled away from me. My lungs fill with relief. Openness never felt better. Greg is also surprised, and I see who grabbed the collar of his top. 

        "Alistair?" I whisper, so quietly I'm sure he hasn't heard me. Greg finally notices him and fear and dread replaces his drunken face. He holds Alistair's wrist, trying to pry it off.

        Pure hatred is etched on Alistair's face, his jaw tight. I tremble when he shoves Greg to the wall with such force, I'm sure Greg has to have broken something.

        "She's not a doll to play with," Alistair's says, close to a snarl. "Get lost, bastard, or I'll see the end of you." Greg whimpers, the bottle in his hand broken on the ground. Alistair bends and holds Greg's collar again, glowering at him. "Understand?" 

        Alistair pulls away and stands up. I'm shaking, stuck helplessly in the horrid scene. I imagine his hands fondling me and become frustrated. I lift my cup over Greg's head and dump its contents. Greg growls at me, fumbles away, and throws himself out the exit door. Alistair seems amused when we move away from the puddle of punch and whatever came out of Greg's bottle. 

        "Are you okay?" he asks. 

        No. I'm embarrassed. "Thank you," I say. A part of me is grateful for him, the other part proud of my myself. "Where are your friends?"

        "Wherever I'm not," he replies. He slips a hand behind his neck, knowing his answer was bizarre. "Did you find your friends?"

        "No." I wonder how he knew. Curtis must've told him.

        It seems like forever before one of us speaks again. I don't want us to separate. I have completely forgotten about my friends with Alistair here. He's staring at the ground, at my shoes, and I'm staring at his loose, unbuttoned collar. I liked this moment. Just us two, meeting at the party, trying to figure each other out.

        "I can't blame that drunk ass," Alistair says. Huh? He finally lifts his head, slowly, as if to examine me inch by inch before meeting my eyes. "You're...kind of tempting." I feel a slow burning in the pit of my stomach. His jaw locks. "I don't want any filthy hands touching you." My heart flutters, hammering with strange, confused emotions. Poor thing. 

        "If you're complimenting me, thank you," I say, playing with a lock of my hair. I'm sure he isn't complimenting me, but I always expect too much. 

        Alistair's hands close to fists, his forehead creasing. "That's not a good thing, Amy." My ears ring, hearing one word over and over again like a radio on replay. He said my name for the first time. All these years I've known him, heard him, this is the first time he said it. I'm ecstatic, a grin emerging on my face, but I battled against it.

        "Greg was drunk," I say, still lightheaded. "I should've been more careful. I don't have much experience with--"

        "I'm not talking about Greg." Alistair looks away, scowling. "I shouldn't have helped you, or I shouldn't--I don't do things like that. It's annoying." Is it his ego, or maybe he doesn't associate with girls? Either way, a twinge of hurt jabs my chest. 

        "Sorry," I say meekly. 

        Alistair's fists tighten, and he glares at the ground. Why won't he look at me? Why is he mad? "I can't do anything. Not even a...word," he says mostly to himself. His voice is strained, sounding thwarted. Almost pained. "You should go," he says, a little hoarsely now. "Try not get too close to me." 

        I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. I recollect all those times I thought about him and observed him. All those times I wondered if I'll get to know more about him, to my heart's content. He doesn't like anyone. Everyone is afraid of him. I should be, too. 

        "Fine," I say, dejected. "But I want to go home. Do you know anyone that can drop me off?"

        "No," he says. He turns and starts to walk away. 

        "Okay then." I sense unfamiliar persistence, a fire unlike for me to feel. "I'll just ask Greg."

        Alistair halts. I shouldn't have done that.

        But I let triumph consume me, he let himself give me a ride home, and I let my guilt disappear. We both broke our word. At that moment, I knew we will break it again, for whatever reason made it.