Page 7 of Fighting Spirit

“You don’t need to be helpful.” I sigh.

“You want me to go take a nap or something?” I catch a hint of a challenge as the corner of his brow lifts.

I might as well cut him a break. “I guess I am pretty hungry.”

He stands to his full height, and it’s only now that I can appreciate how massive this guy is. Broad shoulders, at least a head taller than me, but there’s something about the way that he holds himself, as if he’s not quite sure what to do with all that muscle. It’s like he came upon it accidentally and hasn’t worked out what it’s all for yet.

“What kind of sandwich do you want?”

My stomach twists as I register his words and realize that I need to tell him that there’s probably nothing in the kitchen that I can eat. I know how insane it is, not wanting to be an inconvenience to the guy when I’m being held against my will, but after twelve years of being made to feel like I’m being difficult for my fistful of allergies, it’s a tough habit to break.

I learned pretty young that being as unobtrusive as possible was the best way to keep people on my side. If I never need things, then nobody can resent me for asking.

“You know what, I’m actually fine.” I give an awkward smile, my first one of the evening, as I try to brush him off.

“You literally just told me you were hungry.” He frowns, his blue eyes darkening as he fixes me with a hard stare.

“Honestly, I don’t need anything.” I shrug, but even I can tell how unconvincing it is.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna make it cheese.”

“I don’t like cheese.” That’s a lie. I love cheese. I just hate what it does to my insides when I have it.

“Then tell me what you want.” He puts his hands on his hips and hits me with the same look he gave to some of the other guys. The one that had them all shuffling around like naughty kids. But though he must be used to getting his own way, I can be as stubborn as a mule when properly motivated.

“I don’t want anything.”

“You’re getting cheese,” he shoots back, turning and heading toward what I can only assume is the kitchen. I try to get up to follow him, but even without the hindrance of the gloves, I can’t get off this couch. I think I live here now. I’ll get Georgie to reroute my mail. That’s if she’s not already woken up half of campus trying to track me down.

“Hey!” I yell after him. “You don’t need to feed me!”

“You’re being fed!”

The silence after he goes chills me as I take in the room. It’s obviously a frat house, and judging by the plastic cups littered around, the members have either been having a party, or living like they were raised in a barn.

A throat clears to my left after a minute and I startle. I spin where to see the guy leaning against the door frame, a large glass of water and a plate in hand.

“You, uh… You don’t need to be scared or anything.” He doesn’t sound like he quite believes it.

“Who says I’m scared?” I ask petulantly.

“You’re looking around like someone’s about to jump out with a chainsaw.”

“Yeah well… I’m a woman stuck in a frat house with no way of getting home.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s not exactly the start of a story with a happy ending.”

He at least has the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Fuck. Yeah, I guess not.” He crosses the room, pulling over the coffee table so that he can sit in front of me. Clearly, he doesn’t want to risk falling into the black hole couch. I have to force myself not to cringe at the intensity of the eye contact as he stares me down. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, I swear.”

I consider his words for a moment. The fact that this man, who obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me, has madehimself responsible for looking out for me. I would be comforted by his words, but I fight it, not wanting to let my walls come down an inch when I’m relying on them to keep me together.

I look over his shoulder, staring at the looping video game screen instead. “I don’t know you well enough to believe that.”

“Well, that’s kinda the best I got.” He sighs. “I can’t drive you home. I gave my car to my roommate, he drove me here.”

“You don’t live here?”

“With these lunatics? Absolutely not.”

---