Page 2 of Always Yours

“A skunk?” he questions. “Fuck, I thought you were being attacked.”

“I was attacked! A skunk attacked me. Why the hell was it under my car? Shouldn’t the fucker be sleeping?”

I don’t have any idea why I’m blaming the skunk for my own poor choices, but I gotta blame someone.

“It’s a crepuscular animal,” the guy says and I look at him, my glare practically deadly.

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means, it’s an animal that comes out at dawn and dusk,” he replies like this is a known fact.

“Listen, Steve Irwin, are you here to help me or just question my stupidity?”

I’m now standing with my hands on my hips, my eyes shooting daggers in his direction, wondering if I should just call someone to help me.

“Fine,” he says, holding his hands up as if he’s going to walk away.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry. I can’t call the police because I’m eighteen years old, probably still a little drunk from the night before, I’ve thrown up more Long Island Iced Teas than I should have ever been able to fit in my stomach and I’m obviously leaving…”

He cuts me off, a smile crossing his face and it’s then that I notice he’s far more attractive than I would’ve expected. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he looks to be about thesame age as me, but with an athletic build and striking blue eyes.

“Yeah I’ll help you, even though you smell fucking terrible,” he says, and I smile gratefully in return.

But I don’t miss the opportunity to give him just as much shit back. “Dude, you puked in the parking lot too. I think that kinda ruins your street cred.”

“So what’s the plan here?” he asks, cupping his hands around his eyes and pressing his face to the window of my car.

“Get it out of my car,” I respond, an attitude in my voice that is directed more at the skunk than the guy.

Without waiting for any more direction, the guy flings open my car door, levers the seat as both of us stand in the opening of the car door and wait.

In hopes that skunk will vacate the car on its own, the guy grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me away from the car, while the two of us stand waiting.

My body is practically pressed against his side as I shake in the freezing cold air and he runs a warm hand up and down my arm.

“Here,” he says, slipping out of his jacket and handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I tell him, his arms now folding across his body and it’s me who runs a hand over his arm now.

“Let’s do this,” he asserts, and I can’t help but laugh as he strides over to my car and thrusts his body through the small opening that is meant to allow access to the backseat.

But as he reaches in to grab the skunk it sprays again, dousing the poor guy and the interior of my car.

“Fuck,” he cries out, retreating from the car with his eyes clenched shut as the smell hits both of us and we puke in unison.

“If we call someone they’re going to send the police and we’re fucked,” he says, as we debate exactly how we are going to get this skunk out of the car.

It’s obvious that we aren’t thinking clearly, but I get what he’s saying. Ann Arbor has been cracking down on underage drinking and right now we are the poster children for why it’s illegal.

I pop the trunk of my car, remembering that my gym bag is still in there from the spin class I took yesterday afternoon.

I toss him a pair of leggings and I grab the tank I was wearing.

“Here, wrap these around your face,” I tell him as I tie my tank around mine and I watch as he presses the ass of my pants to his face and wraps the legs around, securing them at his neck like a scarf.

Like this whole thing couldn’t get any more embarrassing, but of course it just did, because this guy now has my sweaty crotch leggings covering his mouth and nose. And all I can do is pray that the smell of the skunk is worse than my leggings.

It’s either the smell of my leggings or smell of the skunk or something else, but this guy grows far braver and reaches back into the car.

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