Chapter 4 Visit

"Hey, wait!"

I stopped in my tracks and didn't say anything to him. I didn't know how to start a conversation. This was the first time anyone had been nice to me, and I kept expecting a trick-hidden cameras, a live broadcast where I'd look foolish again.

But what was I thinking? Minutes had passed, and he just stood there. Too quiet. His eyes roamed over me, and it wasn't comfortable. I was wrapped in his coat. It was huge, warm leather reaching down to my knees. I zipped it up to my neck and glanced sideways at him. His veined hands rested in his pockets as he let out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't know someone was here."

I snorted inwardly. They probably hadn't heard me crying or screaming earlier. Well, I couldn't blame them-I'd been dumbfounded at their absence. If I hadn't come out, I wouldn't have known they were here at all.

"What happened to your clothes, by the way?" he asked when I didn't answer.

I brushed some hair from my face, swallowing at the discomfort of his presence. This was the first time I'd had an actual conversation with someone like him-Nathan Jones Davis, the most popular guy at Horizon Valley University. And the first time we met, he'd threatened me. So why was he being... nice now?

"Some girls took them, and I stayed here for hours crying for help, but no one came," I murmured. I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he exhaled sharply and held my hand. Electricity surged through me at the touch, and my first instinct was to pull away.

"S-sorry..." I muttered, looking at my feet. Awkward silence filled the room. I couldn't meet his eyes, and his presence felt suffocating.

"It's okay. I just need to take you home. It's not safe for someone like you to go home like that. We may not have a great first impression, but let me do this." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and guided me out.

My heart raced, somersaulting in my stomach. At his car, he opened the door and helped me in. The engine started, and I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling.

The ride was quiet. Occasionally, I glanced at him. He whistled a familiar tune, tapping the steering wheel. He looked calm-like helping a girl he'd seen naked was no big deal. He suddenly looked my way, and I jumped, my eyes widening in fear. I bit my lower lip, hoping he hadn't noticed me staring, but he chuckled low.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning anything. I see different naked women every day. Yours isn't new to me." His voice was deep, decisive, and somehow convincing.

Oh. I had expected this, but hearing it from Nathan made it clear: his life was a world apart from mine. He was probably helping out of guilt. And I knew he wouldn't talk to me tomorrow. I shook the thought away. Why was I hoping for something new in my life?

I sighed and rested my head back, watching houses and cars pass. Luckily, I wasn't working tonight. My vision blurred with fatigue, but I stayed alert-I was alone with a man who had been with many women.

"Hey, we've been driving for a while, but I forgot to ask-where do you live?"

I hesitated, then gave him the street and apartment details. He nodded silently, and I looked away.

In less than ten minutes, we arrived. He quickly got out, circled the car, and opened my door. I looked up at his face-lips, nose, and then eyes that held something undefinable. He offered his hand, and I hesitated, unsure what to do. But he guided me out conscientiously.

"You live alone?" he asked as we walked to the entryway. I nodded.

"Where are your parents?" His whisper made my hair stand on end. I nibbled my tongue to keep from trembling. The man beside me was huge, and for a moment, I half-expected him to be a werewolf.

"I'm alone," I said, stopping at my door. I didn't look at him before closing it gently. I heard him want to say something, but I built my walls again. No words, just the weight of the day pressing down.

The following days were hard.

I didn't want to go to school today. Not for once was this an excuse-I had a reason, and it was substantial.

"Yeah, sure it is," my conscience said, and I nearly hit myself. I sighed, staring at my reflection, tracing my face with my palm. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him-Nathan Jones Davis-the way his lips curved into that hypnotic smirk. I slapped myself. Get a grip, Natasha! Don't become one of those girls infatuated with him.

This was nonsense. An internal crisis. I needed to stop thinking about Nathan, Mr. Popular, whose life seemed to orbit parties, dates, and admirers.

I nearly jumped when my door swung open. Mrs. Johnson barged in, her face twisted in alarm.

"Mrs. Johnson? Why are you-"

She covered my mouth with her hands. Something smelled... rotten fish?

"Shh! Someone's outside!"

I struggled, but she whispered anxiously.

"Some greek god, good sense of clothing, enchanted smile, physically impressive, tall, sharp, delightful... he's looking for you."

Her description was oddly poetic, but that didn't matter. My heart stopped.

"WHAT?!" I shouted, my voice shaking the floor. Neighbors probably heard, but I didn't care.

"Oh, you can't be serious," I muttered, biting my nails-an idiosyncrasy when anxious.

"Why? You know him?" Mrs. Johnson asked, curious, probably seeing her first truly handsome man.

A drop-dead gorgeous man who shouldn't even be here.