Jacob’s Girl

A Damsel In Distress?

“Do you need a ride?”

I ignored the voice

I found myself standing alone at 9:35, the encroaching darkness casting an uneasy chill feeling like it was going to rain.

I was frustrated that I had missed the bus, a result of extra tasks assigned by Mike, who seemed oblivious to the fact I was not sluggish at all.

Despite the habitual late closures, by 8:00 I was usually ready to leave work. But this time, I had missed the bus and faced the predicament of either footslog in search of a taxi or waiting for the next bus.

A voice disrupted my thoughts again, offering me a ride. I ignored it and didn’t bother to look back, my senses alert to the dimming environment and the looming promises of rain.

As I walked briskly forward, I heard another unsettling voice

“Hey pretty, come over here” It was coming from a drunk man by the roadside. I started walking faster.

“Hello” I hear another deep voice that seems familiar

Aware of my growing discomfort, I instinctively fumbled for my taser, ready to protect myself from any potential threats lurking nearby.

Mike had me doing extra work, complaining I was sluggish. Does he even know what sluggish meant?

We always closed late but by 7:30 I'm usually done and ready to go home.

Now, I’ve missed the bus. I had to trek forward to see if I can get a taxi or meet up with the next bus

“Come to daddy, baby” I hear another voice, it was coming from a drunk man by the roadside. I started walking faster

“Hello” I hear another one

"If you don't back off right now—"

"Elizabeth."

The sound of my name froze me in my tracks. Jacob?

I turned around, my eyes tracing the outline of a dark car. His distinct dark hair seemed to cut through the window's reflection.

"Jacob?"

His presence caught me off guard, my mind racing to make sense of this late-night encounter. What was he doing here? Could it be a mere coincidence that he appeared at this moment? My thoughts spun between the realms of intrigue and caution, unsure whether he might be a stalker or even a potential kidnapper.

Jacob stepped out of his car, the elegance of his Benz mirroring a classy demeanor.

“Why are you standing there? Do you need a ride?” He inquired, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and impatience.

Why is he always there when I’m in distress?

The offer seemed to hang in the air as if waiting for my response to make up its mind.

My options were limited, and I could feel the chill creeping in. With a humorous edge, I blurted out,

“Are you at stalking me ?”

He paused as if surprised I asked the question.

The situation was getting colder, both in humor and in temperature.

“Get in, Elizabeth,” he said, his tone more impatient. It was almost as if his patient thermometer had hit its limit.

“And why should I get in?” I shot back with defiance in my tone.

“That’s not even a question, Elizabeth,” he responded sternly, his confidence clear. I rolled my eyes, wondering if he had a “Mr. I-Know-Everything” badge hidden somewhere.

“I don’t know, you could be a kidnapper for all I know, because what are you doing here late at night?” I retorted with a slight grin.

The tension was palpable, his composed demeanor kept it from becoming too serious.

He tilted his head slightly, his features illuminated by the dim road light. The suit he wore seemed almost tailor-made for his handsome figure. I mentally scolded myself for noticing that admits the situation.

“I should be asking you why are you out this late at night. It’s dangerous for a girl like you,” he replied his comment laid with an unintentional air of condescension.

“A girl like me?” I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Did he seriously say that？ I had half a mind to remind him about my taser prowess.

“What do you mean by ‘a girl like me’? It wasn’t long after I tried to fry you with my taser,” I retorted, a smirk of my tugging at the corners of my lips. His reaction was priceless as if he hadn’t expected me to talk back.

With a self-satisfied grin

“You mean I should leave?” He asked, his tone mischievous. It was clear he was enjoying our back-and-forth banter

“Yes,” I shot back, attempting my best serious face.

But in my head, a tiny voice was screaming, ‘Please, please don’t leave!”

He gave me a mock salute and then proceeded to moonwalk—well, okay, it was just regular backward walking, but let’s just pretend for a second— that he moonwalked to his car. Did I accidentally convince him that I wanted him gone? Smooth move Elizabeth.

Glancing around, it was getting darker and I could still see drunken homeless people and rowdy shirtless guys were the ambiance, and I was the main character in a sitcom gone wrong. Inside, I was mentally chanting, ‘ Please, for the love of all things sensible, don’t abandon me!”

Suddenly, a guy with wild hair and the charm of a sewer rat staggered towards me

“Hey baby, let me give you a good night—“

Before I could say anything, Jacob swooped In, faster than a superhero on caffeine.

“Get the f*** away from her,” Jacob’s stern voice sliced through the air. The guy slinked away like he’d just been caught raiding the cookie jar.

But then, just as I thought Jacob was about to wave his heroic cape goodbye, he turned back. Dramatic much?

“Elizabeth get into the car right now,” he said, his voice lowered and a tad growly.

“You don’t—“ I began

“It’s not a request,” he interrupted, grabbing my wrist. I winced. Ow, can you not save me with a side of pain?

“Ouch,” I mumbled, rubbing my hurting wrist with my free hand as if I could magically erase the discomfort. He seemed somewhat apologetic, maybe realizing he’d gone from superhero to kidnapper in two seconds flat.

“Looks like I’m going to have to carry you to the car.”

“You don’t dare!” I protested, though it was futile.

He offered a snug smile, and before I could react, I found myself draped over his shoulder, an unexpected kidnapping in progress. I was on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Note to self: practice upper body strength for future situations like these.

Resistance seemed futile, I was looping over his shoulder, a human question mark at least my shoes matched the bewildered expression I was wearing. Fatigue from my endless waitress shifts renders me less inclined to argue.

Being carried wasn’t so bad, I mused, as he deposited me onto the front seat of his car and promptly shut the door. With a tire-squealing start, he drove off into the night, and I was left to contemplate whether I was the damsel in distress or an unwitting accomplice to my kidnapping.

As we sailed into the night, a tiny chuckle escaped me. I mean, who gets kidnapped by a guy who offers you a ride? Maybe it’s a new spin on modern dating, but hey, I wasn’t exactly complaining.