Alpha's Battle for Love

Chapter 3: The Damsel and the Hero

Emily

I thought I was going to die. I saw my life flash before my eyes as well as the bright lights of that truck. I thought my twenty-six years on this planet was about to come to an abrupt and untimely end. But in the next moment, I found myself in the arms of a handsome stranger.

“Hello there," he smiled, breathless. I blushed. He was indeed handsome, but he also made me a little uncomfortable.

I had a thing about people touching me without it being warranted. People I didn't know except for Grandpa and a few others. I wasn't at all against arm and shoulder pats or even hugs, but I didn't know him and one of his hands was touching me just beneath my right breast.

“Um, hello," I managed to say. I was breathless myself, having almost died and all. He helped me stand and stared at the truck that almost hit me. It was stopped and the driver had gotten out. By the look of him and his disheveled appearance, he was an older guy, most likely a drunk. A stupid and careless drunk. He glared at my busted up moped. His face was a mask of anger and rage. Then he looked over at me.

“Hey, you stupid b***h," he said. “Watch where the f*ck you're going next time!"

The handsome guy stepped in front of me and pointed at the drunk.

“No, pal, why don't you watch where the f*ck you're going and stay off your f*cking phone!"

The drunk took a few paces towards us, and the handsome guy stepped towards him. The drunk suddenly balked, turned and ran back to his truck. He sped off without another word. Good thing I got the guy's license plate number. I didn't want to do it, but I had to go to the police about him and report the incident. This Monday was becoming irritably miserable for me.

“Are you hurt?" asked the handsome guy. I noticed his hair was dark brown. He wore it long and in a man bun. I always thought guys who wore man buns were corny, but he wore his man bun quite well.

“Just my pride," I replied. “And most likely my pocketbook."

I gave my body a once over just to make sure that I hadn't truly gotten hurt. But this stranger had saved me from any grievous wound, save for the trauma I was now facing. And no one else was around to witness what happened. Both streets were dead. How convenient! If I was hit by that truck, I doubt the driver would stop or take me to the hospital. He'd probably leave me to die. Such was the way of the world nowadays. You didn't know whether people were who they are or were wearing a mask over their cruel and apathetic faces.

It was why I was skeptical of this stranger, that and my last three boyfriends had been one terrible relationship after another, it was why I had a hard time trusting men.

He looked at my moped, which was virtually destroyed and sighed.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about your bike."

“That was my only way to work," I said, despairing. Of course, Grandpa had a car and I'd have to tell him what happened. He'd have to pick me up and bring me to work every day until I could find a new one or better yet, a car for cheap.

“At least I got that as*hole's license plate number," I mentioned.

The stranger looked at me impressed.

“Well, you'll definitely have to go to the police station and fill out an incident report." I knew that and was already dreading it. I looked at my destroyed bike. How was I going to get it back to my apartment?

“I'll have to call my grandpa and have him help me."

“I can help you if you'd like," he said. I nearly balked at him. Why was he going out of his way to help me?

“No," I said, not sure I wanted his help or that I could ask him to help me. “It's alright. I don't even know your name and I couldn't put you out like that."

He smiled. Good god, he was handsome.

“My name is Tristan Gray, and it wouldn't be any trouble at all."

“Are you sure?" I asked.

“Of course," he replied. “Just wait right here, I'll go and get my truck."

He ran over to the parking lot across from the coffee shop and got into an impressively built truck. This thing was a beast and still looked brand new despite some scratches on the tailgate. He parked it just behind the moped and got out.

“Do you need some help?" I asked.

He shook his head and lowered the tailgate. It was my moped and I already felt bad because he was going out of his way to help me.

“Nah, it's okay, I got it." He smiled again and I blushed, hoping he didn't notice. He picked up the moped with ease, laying it in the truck bed as nicely as he could. He appeared to be very strong, and I could see the muscles of his arms bulging against the leather of his bomber's jacket. He shut the tailgate and walked around to the passenger side, opening the passenger door.

“Your chariot awaits," he said. I couldn't help but snort with laughter. That was cheesy but I liked that sort of thing with guys.

“Thank you," I replied, stepping up into the truck. He shut the door. The interior was nice and smelled of leather and a faint scent of something fragrant that almost made me swoon. Was it from him?

He opened the door to the driver's side and hopped in.

“Where to?" he asked.

“Clover Street Apartments," I said with a grin.

"Okay," he said, releasing the brake lock. "Easy peasy, quick and breezy!"

I chuckled. He was definitely cheesy. And I wasn't just thinking that because it almost rhymed.

We made it to the apartments and Tristan parked the destroyed moped near my apartment door. The landlord was going to have a fit when he found out about it. But I planned on calling my grandpa once I got inside my apartment. And I wouldn't leave it out there for long.

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "It was very kind of you to do that."

He nodded, smiling back. "It was my pleasure. People need help and kindness in this world and there aren't many good people left."

"I totally agree. But I don't know how I can repay you."

I hate feeling indebted to people and I would try to find small ways to repay them that didn't require money I didn't really have to give them.

He smiled and looked at me with those piercing blue eyes of his.

"I'll only accept one thing from you," he said.

I took a step back, afraid of what that one thing might be. Oh, God, please don't be "that" guy.

"Will you at least tell me your name?" he asked. And I heaved a deep sigh and laughed. Stupid girl!

"Oh, it's Emily; Emily Stone," I spoke.

Still keeping a smile, he said. "Well, Emily, I'm glad you didn't get hurt. Hopefully, the next time we run into each other it will be during better circumstances."

"I'd like that," I laughed. But I wasn't really sure I wanted to run into him again. This guy made me feel strange and it wasn't the "creepy" sort of strange. He made me feel euphoric and dreamy.

He was handsome and kind, two traits that drew me like a moth to a flame to my last three boyfriends.

I wanted to stay away from all men and even women who I might be attracted to. Relationships were killer and I wanted nothing to do with them. Tristan was kind but he came into my life when I was at a place where I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship anymore. I was at a crossroads in my life.

But little did I know that it was the crossroads that had brought him to me. He was part of one path and the other remained empty and uncertain. I had a feeling that I wouldn't see the last of Tristan Gray.