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Beautiful Broken Mess(3)

By:Kimberly Lauren


All I can do is stare at my shaking hands. Maybe I can go ask Nico for money from my side account to buy more groceries. Surely he can help me. But then I remember he left this afternoon to go up north for a visit with his mother, who has fallen ill. I don’t have a phone number to reach him, and I’m sure he won’t be able to help from long-distance anyway. This is it then. I have to face the music and go home empty-handed. I’ll survive. I always survive. I only have one more year until I can get out of this town.

A warm hand reaches out and forces my chin up. “Look at me,” a stern voice commands gently.

His glacial blue eyes dominate all other thoughts at the moment. The way he looks at me, I realize he must have been trying to grab my attention for a while. I slowly come back down from my panic.

“There you are…” he says softly, sounding a bit relieved. With one hand still holding my chin up, he wipes the tears out of my eyes with his other hand. I clear my throat, but I’m still unable to speak to this stunningly attractive person. Now that my vision isn’t clouded, I can fully take him in. His entire demeanor commands his complete attention. I don’t know why, but I suddenly crave the idea of allowing someone to have that control over me, to actually trust another person. I’ve never fully trusted anyone. I’ve never been given the opportunity to fully trust anyone.

Even though he’s crouching down in front of me, I can tell this guy has long, muscular legs. I’m five foot ten, so it’s hard to come across people who are much taller than I am. I like the idea of being able to look up into his eyes. He’s also fit. If the polo shirt he’s wearing with the logo of the local hotshot football team didn’t give it away, his large shoulders and wide chest would have.

Looking beyond his intense blue eyes, I notice the warm, dark brown color of his hair, and I’m surprised to see sporadic natural highlights spread throughout. With his free hand, he reaches up and threads his fingers through the strands and lets them fall haphazardly back down. The way the pieces fall perfectly in place makes it seem as if even his hair knows how to submit to his strong will. I begin to wonder how my body would feel under those fingers. Would it submit as easily as his hair?

He clears his throat, which pulls my attention back from the unexpectedly sensual thoughts I’m having. “You realize these are just groceries, right?” He slyly grins at me in question. I nod my head, but still can’t reply. “I’ll replace them for you. It’s the least I can do for knocking you over.”#p#分页标题#e#

As he helps me up to a standing position, I think about rejecting his offer. It’s not like he knew I was going to be walking in front of the door at that exact moment. Just because a measly bag of groceries brings me to my knees in a pathetic crying pile, that doesn’t mean he should have to buy anything for me. On the other hand, I’m not in any position to decline help. It’s either I save my pride and deal with my dad’s wrath or let this stranger, whom I’ll never see again, assist me. I choose the stranger.

“Thank you.” I meekly smile, while wiping the last of the moisture from my eyes.

When we finally extend to our full heights, I am excited to see that he’s at least a good four or five inches taller than me. Seeing the full package standing in front of me doesn’t hurt either… he’s gorgeous. I watch as he reaches down to grab the box he almost mauled me with and sets it into the back of a giant, four-door, black pickup truck. I don’t know much about cars since I ride the bus, but this truck has to be expensive. There aren’t any scratches on the paint and not a speck of rust on the rims.

Unlike me, he actually belongs on this side of town. I just work here. Our city is divided into two vastly different economic statuses, and I’ve never understood why they never just separated into two different cities. This side of town has the golden-child high school that receives all the funding for their state championship-winning football team and award-winning academic decathlon team. I think my school had ten girls get pregnant last year instead of twelve, which was the running total from the previous year. I call that progress.

The beautiful stranger comes over and scoops up my pitiful, ruined bag of groceries and begins to rifle through it before tossing it into a nearby trashcan.

“My brother is actually at the store right now, picking up groceries for my mom. Mind if I just text him a list of everything you had? That way you don’t have to go shopping again, and we can just go grab some coffee instead.” He nods his head toward the chic little café across the street.