Fallen (4 page)

I wondered if
he was an official thinking I was about to shoplift. Wearing a dress shirt and slacks, his professional appearance
definitely
sent that message.
But i
n
a
brief moment when our eyes locked, I noticed something different about him. He wasn’t old enough to be in a position of authority – even if he came across as holding it. H
is outward appearance made him look
young enough to be my age
,
yet
something in his demeanor, his stance
,
told me that he was much older.

No matter what
his issue was, I was about to leave anyways. It was getting dark and my balcony was calling to me. So I slid up on my bike and headed back to the house.

I was conscious of him as I left The Square, feeling him following me without having to look
to
confirm it.
As I moved through the intersection, I turned to find him sitting behind the wheel of a blue Ford Mustang
. O
nce more
,
he was staring at me with that same angry gaze.

In reaction, my skin broke out in a cold sweat and
my hands started to shake. I never had this happen
before
– but then I’d
never been afraid before either. It took a moment to realize that this was what I was
e
xperiencing…actual fear. It was new to me, completely. But
I couldn’t deny it.
I was trying to gain control of my nerves that were now shooting off panic to every inch of my body.

It took me an entire street block before I started to get my breathing under control and that was only after I glanced over my shoulder at the stop sign to make sure the guy wasn’t following me. I didn’t see him
,
but the hair on the back of my neck was still standing up, which didn’t calm me at all.

I turned down my street and focused on the third streetlight
that was
lighting the pavement in a dim orange circle. This was the entrance to my driveway
on
the side of the house
,
and I was only a few feet from it when something entirely unexpected and unforeseeable happened.

Just outside the hazy glow of the streetlight stood someone who I was absolutely certain had not been there a moment ago. He appeared without warning and from nowhere, suddenly standing directly in front of me
,
as if he had intentionally put himself in my path.

This last thought occurred to me as ridiculous
,
but it was the way it seemed nonetheless.

Despite the swiftness at which the event happened, I saw something with absolute clarity. He was handsome, so much so that he
’d
looked more appropriate on a runway than standing in my street. I knew instantly that he was around my age
. B
ut unlike
other teenagers,
he stood tall and assured, towering over me, even from my height on the bike. What he wore did not reflect
the most recent fashion
either. His clothes had an age to them, still clean and well-kept but traditional. His hair was dark brown – as best I judged from the reflection of the streetlight – and cut to be shaggy yet just short enough to keep it tidy.

I instantly felt guilty for being in the motion of running him down – which would certainly result in injury at this speed.

What I also recognized in that brief moment was his expression. It was not filled with terror as would be expected when a five
-
hundred pound motorcycle is bearing down on you. He was not scattered or looking for a way to escape or frightened at all.

He was frustrated.

I, on the other hand, was frantic. My bike was about to pummel a complete stranger
,
and I didn’t seem to have any way of avoiding it. I had felt in control of my bike from the moment I first took a seat on it. Yet, in that moment, I had as much control over it as I did over directing a planetary alignment.

“Right!” he yelled in an English accent, pointing in that direction with a long, toned arm.

But I was already going left – completely by chance. Realizing that it was now or never, I gained control of myself
.
At least now,
with the ability to function physically, I turned
the handlebars to the right
,
but
it was too late.

My front tire was less than a foot from him now. We were going to collide.

Suddenly my bike took on a life of its own. It trembled slightly and the handlebars jerked to the right
,
nearly throwing me off
,
and
just as abruptly, it righted itself
as it turned
into
my driveway. Again, I was almost launched off when my wheels hit the gutter’s dip but it caught me at just the right angle. I only vaguely registered somewhere deep in my subconscious that I was not controlling my bike but it was controlling me
. It caught me from falling off
with each jarring move and each forceful bump. This made no sense to me
,
so
I
quickly disregarded it.

I focused instead on the fact that I should have been sprawled on the pavement with my giant five
-
hundred pound bike on top of me – I was definitely leaning far enough over th
at it should have happened. But
the bike swerved its way down my neighbor’s driveway, plowing me
into
the hedge
that
separated
our properties. The bike ended up leaning against the hedge
and the
motor cut off a moment later.

Jostled and completely confused about what had just transpired, I took a moment to inhale deeply.
It was alarming to
realize
how ragged
my breathing
had become
.
This
was the first time I’d
ever
felt
my breath that way.
I
instead
chose
to focus on freeing my leg from the overgrown shrubbery
.

I wiggle
d
it up and over my bike, falling to the gravel driveway in my effort. I immediately picked myself up, brushed off tiny stones
engrained in my palms, and
unfastened
my helmet.

Already, the fear I’d felt a few seconds ago was gone. Disappeared, and in its place was fury.

I pulled my helmet off, craning my neck painfully in the process and not caring.

All of a sudden
he was right there, standing directly in front of me.

“Are you al
l
right?” he asked, although his mouth was slightly puckered and he sounded more aggravated than concerned.

Despite my anger brewing, it dawned on me that this boy was even more attractive
up close
. I was angry and wanted to stay that way. I definitely did not want to be intrigued
; y
et, that was how I felt. In the moment of staring at him, I noticed that he had a certain kind of smoothness to his skin that seemed untouched by time.
He carried himself with assurance and grace; i
f it weren’t for his size, I would have thought I was looking at someone several years younger. But, this wasn’t what stunned me. His eyes, which locked with mine and ref
used to free me, were the
blue
-green
color I’d only seen in the waters off the coast of Florida. Translucent, warm, and welcoming. I had leapt off piers
into
that water uninhibited, free – but I was feeling neither of those emotions in my current state.

No, I felt angry.

“Am I al
l
right?” I scoffed. “I almost ran you over. What were you doing just standing in the st
reet? Did you want to be hit?”

His eyes squinted then, reducing their beautiful blue-green color, and I was thankful. It allowed me to regain a bit of clear thought.

He stared back at me as if he were trying to answer a very challenging question. “You’re angry with me?” He sounded confused and a bit appalled.

I threw up my hands. That wasn’t clear?

“You were standing in the middle of the street! I had to avoid hitting you! I ended up in a bug-infested hedge!” I crossed my arms, waiting for an apology.

He leaned back and folded his own arms across his chest in a seemingly unspoken challenge. “So I understand that you didn’t notice the Ford Mustang barreling down the street behind you? The one that was about to run you over?”

Stumped, I turned back toward
the opening of the street. “Mustang? What Ford Mustang?” I asked, thinking in the back of my mind
. W
asn’t the creepy guy from earlier today driving a Ford Mustang?

“It’s gone now,” he replied, frowning. “You didn’t think it was going to stick around after nearly running you down, did you?”

He was mocking me, which infuriated me
even
more.

“You realize I could have easily killed you?” I demanded.

“I doubt that,” he replied. A hint of a smile rested just beneath the surface.

I couldn’t comprehend why he thought this was funny. Did he have no sense of self-preservation?

“My bike is a heavy piece of machinery,” I stated for emphasis to my point.

He nodded casually, still retaining that subtle grin. He had no rational fear about what had just happened. That much was clear to me.

I laughed at the idiocy of the situation, which made one of his eyebrows lift skeptically.

Finally, he responded. “That doesn’t apply to me.”

“What doesn’t?” I asked, now thoroughly
confused
.

“Your bike and its dangers.”

“How is that? Are you a stunt person?” I asked, coming up with the only logical explanation I could think of on the spot.

He seemed to appreciate that assumption with humor, tilting his chin up and releasing a deep chuckle. When he was through, he brought his head back down and looked me deep in the eyes.

“You really have no idea, do you?”

“About what?” I nearly screamed, thoroughly perturbed
at this point
.

Then his expression changed from smug humor to stunned surprise. He stood this way for some time, staring at me, with his mouth slightly ajar and his eyebrows creased. “No idea at all…” he muttered then.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I replied.