Fires We Feed

A New Route

I downed my glass of whiskey before calling it a night. I was a bit tipsy, yes, but still sharp enough to count backwards from a thousand, skipping threes just to prove I could. The music in the bar was strange, a solo artist crooning through what was supposed to be experimental sound. It bled through the dim air like a heartbeat underwater.

I was done for the night. I grabbed my purse, my keys jangling as I headed for the door.

Outside, the night air was cooler, slicing through the haze in my head. A few people lingered by the entrance, laughing softly, cigarette smoke curling like ghosts above their heads. An old man leaned against the wall. He's probably in his sixties, white goatee bristling like frost, a battered jacket hanging off his thin frame, and a cap pulled low over his eyes. He reeked of stale beer and cigarettes, a smell that clung like a warning. But it wasn’t just the stench — there was something in the way he stood. Predatory.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice rough as gravel. “Leaving already? The night’s still young.”

“Yeah,” I said, not slowing down. “So’s liver damage. Thought I’d quit while mine still worked.”

He chuckled, a low, uneven sound that seemed to echo just a little too long. The smell of him swirled in the night air, almost tangible, and a shiver crept up my spine.

“C’mon, one more drink won’t kill you.”

“Maybe not,” I shot back, unlocking my car, “but your breath might.”

His wheezing laugh came out like a broken accordion. He shifted slightly, “Feisty one. Bet you keep the boys in line.”

“Only the ones who forget what ‘go away’ means.”

He opened his mouth, probably to argue. I was already holding a pepper spray in case he comes any closer.

Then a voice cut through the tense night air.

“Martin. Go home."

Her words weren’t just advice — they carried weight, an untold context that made him hesitate.

"And if I don’t?” he rasped, trying to keep his composure.

“You know what happened last time,” she replied, stepping just slightly closer.

He swallowed hard, jaw tight, eyes flicking to me, and finally, with another muttered curse under his breath.

Once Martin was gone, we stood there, just looking at each other. There was something so inviting about her. Something I couldn’t quite name. My chest tightened. I couldn’t believe we were standing face to face. Until now, I had only seen her in pictures.

Go confront her about the affair.

Avery broke the silence, her voice calm and steady. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I whispered, still trying to catch my breath. Then curiosity got the better of me. “Why… what happened last time?”

She smirked faintly, and with the lightest, most casual motion, she brushed at her hip, revealing the gun in her holster. It was just there, tucked under her jacket, but it spoke volumes.

“I'm also good at kicking ass,” she said softly, almost teasing. Her eyes met mine, steady and unflinching. "I'm Avery."

I swallowed, heart hammering. She looked so cheerful and innocent, yet everything about her that oozed strength. It made me more annoyed that this b***h had to save me. I didn't need her help.

"Cassie."

This is your chance to tell her.

Avery cut me off before I could get a word out. “You don’t look like you live around here,” she said casually but with an edge that made it clear she expected an answer. "You look lost."

I blinked, annoyed. “Excuse me?”

She tilted her head, glitter catching the streetlight. “I didn’t say you couldn’t handle yourself. Just… I noticed you after the show drowning whatever things you needed to forget.”

I crossed my arms. “Charming.” I blushed when she said that she was watching me all those time that I had no care in the world. But thanks to the lighting in the parking lot, maybe she didn't notice that.

Where do you live?” she asked after a pause.

“Not far,” I replied, defensively.

“Then why aren’t we carpooling?” she pressed, calm but firm. “I want to get home too. And I need a ride. My friends they were off to someplace. I needed to escape.”

I leaned against my car, one hand on my hip, the other clutching my purse. “So, carpooling, huh?” I said, letting the words drip with exaggerated suspicion. “You’re assuming I want to spend more time with you. Bold move.”

Avery tilted her head, giving me a curious look. “Wait… Do we… know each other?”

I let out a short, laugh, smirking. “Do we know each other? Hmm… maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how much you like surprises.”

She frowned for a moment, as if trying to figure out why I was giving her attitude. But she shook it off quickly, amusement taking over. “A guessing game, huh? I usually win those.”

Rain splattered across the parking lot, pattering against the hood of my car. I groaned. “Really? Right now?”

Avery didn’t hesitate. She draped my hoodie over my head, sheltering me from the downpour. She grabbed my hand, her grip firm and confident. Sparks shot through me the instant our fingers touched.

"Here,” she said, brushing damp strands of hair from my face. “You’re not going to melt.”

"Appreciate the concern. Really.”

She helped me into the passenger seat, making sure I was properly seated, adjusting my jacket and tucking my hoodie in just so. Her hands lingered a fraction longer than necessary, and I caught myself staring, my pulse skipping. She smiled at me before slamming the door shut.

By the time Avery slid into the driver’s seat, she was completely soaked. Her hair clung to her neck, droplets running down the collar of her jacket, and yet… she looked stunning. It made my chest tighten.

I handed Avery my keys, brushing my fingers against hers, pretending it didn’t feel like a spark hit my chest. “Here,” I said. “Try not to crash my car. It has feelings too.”

Avery’s grin widened. “Feelings? Does it cry when I hit a pothole or just judge me silently?”

Oh, worse,” I said solemnly. “It never forgets who wronged it. Push its buttons too far, and the horn will betray you at the worst possible moment.”

She laughed, a teasing, musical sound. “A car with a memory and a vendetta. I love it already. Makes driving more… thrilling.”

"Sure," I dismissed the thought of going back and forth with her and say things that I'll regret later.

Close enough now, I could smell her with hints of citrus and vanilla, a little spicy note underneath.

Avery started the car, the engine purring as the rain tapped steadily against the windshield. The air in the car felt warmer now. I tried not to think about how close we were, leaving me aware of every subtle shift and every glance.