Page 70 of Howl for Me
“I hate you,” I manage to grind out through clenched teeth, stumbling backward with one eye squeezed shut, the other tearing up like it’s mourning my dignity.
“Yeah?” he drawls, stopping just shy of my reach. “Could have guessed that, what with the chemical warfare and all.”
“Don’t come near me,” I snap, holding my arm out while trying not to panic.
I can barely make out his blurry form as he raises his hands in a mock innocent gesture, “Hey, I’m not the one who sprayed myself in the face. That was all you, sweetheart.”
“Call me that again and I’ll—”
“Blindly flail? Try to run into traffic?” He clicks his tongue. “You’re a mess. Come on. Let’s rinse your face before you lose your vision and what little pride you’ve got left.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snap, even as the world blurs and my knees start to shake.
He sighs. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
And just like that, I’m off the ground. One arm under my knees, the other cradling my back. He lifts me like I’m made of air.
“What the hell! Put me down!”
“I am. Eventually.”
“This is kidnapping!” I yell.
“This is basic first aid, drama queen.”
I slap at his shoulder. He doesn’t even flinch. “Tell the truth, baby, you like being this close to me.”
“Your ego is staggering.”
“Yeah, so’s your aim with that pepper spray.”
I kick my foot against his side, and his grunt of pain pleases me for a moment. He shoulders the door open, kicks it closed behind him, and carries me into a bathroom with obnoxiously clean tile and obnoxiously bright lights. He sets me gently on the counter like I’m something fragile, which only pisses me off more.
“I bet you’re enjoying this.”
“Not even a little. You’re heavier than you look.”
“Excuse me?”
He smirks and grabs a washcloth, running it under cold water.
“Oh, you’re hilarious,” I mutter, but I don’t stop him when he steps between my knees and tilts my chin up. Somehow, the heat from my face seems to spread throughout my body, down to my core. It’s just the pepper spray, right?
The cold cloth hits my face, and I flinch.
“Hold still,” he says, voice quieter now, more focused.
The cloth presses gently to my cheek, and I suck in a breath. “Ah shit, that stings.”
“Yeah. That’s how pepper spray works.”
“Thank you, Professor. Do you offer a course in not being a total dick?”
“Not currently.”
His fingers are careful, surprisingly gentle as he dabs along the edge of my eye. “You got lucky. Most of it hit your cheek. Shouldn’t be permanent.”
“Great,” I mutter.
