Off Kilter
1253 Words
"I'm fine! Thank you!" Shaking my self out of his grip I clear my throat hoping it’ll lower to my normal voice and not the squeaky barbie doll voice of embarrassment I just let lose.
Damn it Aria. What a f**k up you are. Always rushing ahead useless and stupid. Just one big f*****g embarrassment.
Groaning I limp around, giving my back to the stranger. Nothing good can come of me continuing to look at him, really interacting in any way. Plus I really need to clean this mess.
My frown grows deeper as my mind wanders to dark places the wicked voice inside my head wants to drag me to. The mess around me is familiar, shattered glass, broken frames, bent pictures and scattered books.
Dropping to my knees I don’t feel the pain I know is there as I start to clean the mess, grabbing some of the biggest and closest objects to me as I hurry to clean what I can before I get in more trouble.
"Let me get it!" I jump, startled as he kneels to the ground next to the box so he can right it. For a moment more I’m frozen in place. Stuck in the magnetism of his presence and the shock of his continued kindness as I’m pulled out of the depths of my mind.
I’m not in trouble. I don’t need to rush, I don’t need to worry. I made a mistake. A stupid mistake but I’m okay. I’m not in trouble.
I watch him out of the corner of my eyes as I shuffle forward collecting what I can as I repeat the mantra in my head.
He turns each book so it’s facing up before lining up the spines perfectly and carefully placing them back in the box. His eyes meet mine for a moment that takes my breath away before reminding me I’m still crouched low to the ground holding one piece of glass in
my hands staring.
I keep my eyes locked on the floor as I try to pick up everything I can in one go, not stopping until my hands are full of glass and pictures. Mustering up the best mask I have I stand up straight, ignoring the throbbing pain in my knees as I walk myself over to the box.
He makes it about the same time I do, I stand their awkwardly pulling everything in my arms a tad closer while I look from his arms to mine and back again. I don’t look up to his too handsome face, or his crystal like eyes.
Stay small Aria.
“Go ahead.” I don’t argue like I want to, annoyed and impatient for this encounter to be over with I throw my broken collection on top of the organized books before stepping out of his way.
I stand above him awkwardly watching as he shuffles everything I threw in so he can carefully set the rest of my things back in. The last of which is an old black and white photo of Grandma and Grandpa. Their young, their faces slim, their hair clearly colored, not shades of white and gray like I’m use to but instead dark. They’re smiling at one another. Their eyes filled with so much love it impossible to miss. They held on to that love long after my grandfather passed, until the day she took her last breath.
Their smiles taunt and tease me. A reminder of what I’ll never have. What I never want. Not anymore. Not ever again.
Biting my lip I mental slap myself as I shove all my thoughts, doubts, and embarrassment into a locked vault in the back of my mind to deal with later. Or never at all. Either way I need to stop feeling bad for myself.
I’m here, in Boston. I’m about to step into my first apartment, that will be all mine. Only mine.
I’ve taken a giant step into my future. The future I want. And that doesn’t involve feeling like s**t all the time.
Looking to the kind stranger I reach out my hand as I give him my thanks, "Thank you!" I keep my voice as light and airy as I can as he grips my hand in a powerful and once more intriguing handshake.
Off kilter. He throws me off kilter. My hand fits so perfectly in his, my stomach dips and dives and I fight off the need to moan as flashes of dreams and better days fill me. He’s just so god damn handsome, better looking then anyone I’ve ever meet.
He’s kind too, which is really unfair. He’s dangerous. Not in the murderous type of way but the you can get lost and lose your sanity real fast type of way.
I must stair too long, the next thing I know he’s dipping back to the ground, lifting my box into his arms as he looks at me with wide worried eyes.
"I’m going to get you some ice and call you a doctor. You’re probably going to need to sit the rest of the day out, rest your knees.” His obvious concern is unusual for me. No one cares. Not about me. Especially not someone like him, not more than what’s necessary to be a somewhat decent person which he clearly is.
"I'll get some ice when I'm done moving these boxes. I just need to walk it out no need for a doctor." I make my way around him careful not to get too close. Reaching out my arms I trying to get the box from him but he twists around as he leverages the box on his side like it weighs nothing.
Are you serious? Glaring at the box I jerk my hand to my hip.
"Are you crazy? You could barely carry this with two good knees!" Looking around I notice the few people in the foyer looking straight at us, my cheeks heat again. Not even in Boston for ten minutes and I'm already making a fool out of myself.
"I can get it, you really don't have to do that," I whisper wanting to make myself small. Invisible if I could.
I stay focused on the box as I try to grab for it, feeling his questioning gaze as it racks across my heated skin.
"Where to?" He says in a tone that leaves no room for arguments. An air of confidence and power flows off him. He’s someone that's used to giving orders with no question, nor arguments. A tone that hits my already heated core in all the right places, which is another strange thing about my reaction to him, I don’t want anyone, let alone someone that is powerful or thinks he can order me around, ever.
Narrowing my eyes I glair at him through my growing annoyance. No one gets to tell me what to do. No one. “It’s my box so hand it over,” I growl out before continuing in a gentler tone, aware that he’s been nothing but pleasant to me so far. “I’ll be more careful, thank you for your help but I have it from here.” Waving my hands around I wait impatiently for him to deposit the box in my waiting arms.
Unsurprisingly he doesn’t hand anything over. Unlike me, he truly is a person that doesn’t get told what to do.
And me? While I’m just along for everyone else ride.
- Writer
