Hiding Out

The blanket is over my head. I relish in the bed, slowly stretching out my limbs. My joints pop, and I sigh in content.

I'm not looking forward to the day, but I'm not complaining about a good night's rest.

Sitting up, I throw the blankets off my body, taking deep breaths. Yesterday was a fiasco; an absolute and utter disaster. I was able to message my next door neighbor to watch over Silk while I tried to find another place to live.

I pull my hair back into a ponytail, too lazy to brush out the tangles. Getting up, I go over to the guest restroom, a bubble bath calling my name.

Of course, I light up some scented candles as well, dimming the lights in the restroom.

An hour later, I'm soothed by the smell of lavender, and honeysuckle, headache gone, and muscles relaxed. Rowan was kind enough to leave out a thick, fluffy bathrobe, and I place it on, putting my clothes in the washer.

Rummaging through the kitchen, I make myself some toast and a hot cup of tea.

Not sure if Rowan is home, I take a seat in the dining room table, sipping my tea, and munching on my toast.

A sudden chill crosses over my body, and I straighten up a bit, setting my cup of tea down. I feel uneasy, as if I'm being watched.

The sudden sound of the washer finishing makes me jump in my seat, snapping me out of my brief panic.

Quickly stepping away, I walk over, moving my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Setting the timer, I decide to stay in the guest room instead of going back.

I silently get on to myself; no one is watching me, it's just paranoia getting the best of me. Turning the door handle, I open the door to go back in the room-

-then I stop as I see a figure sitting on the edge of my bed. He's on his feet in an instant, hands out toward me.

I stumble back, forcing the door to close behind me.

"W-who are you ?" I stutter out, heart galloping in my chest.

"Hey there, uhm, I'm...uh, I was in the neighborhood and-" at the sight of the growing panic in my eyes, he takes a step forward.

I take a quick step back, my mark flashing in warning. The guy notices, and he glances at me warily.

"Who are you?" I ask again.

"Listen, I'm a friend of Mr. Larkson. I was kind of...uh...following you..." he trailed off, seeing the change in my expression.

"Do you know how creepy that sounds? I know he needs help, but I do deserve some privacy!" I can feel my face heat up in anger, the mark on my arm flashing brighter.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, but you're quite possibly the only one that can help, and I'm getting really scared for him-"

I turn on my heel, walking back out, not letting him finish sentence.

Annoyingly, he follows after me and he's fast. He's right on my heel.

"Look, I'm sorry about David, but I really need you to go, for one, this isn't my house, for another, you broke in, so please leave before I call the police-"

Moving faster than I can blink, he's in front of me, holding on lightly to my shoulders. He's tall, with longish dirty blonde hair, brownish green eyes staring down at me. A light sprinkle of freckles is dashed across his nose and cheek bones. He wears a sleeveless shirt, with dark pants, and black sneakers.

I'm suddenly aware that this person, this guy, is handsome. And I'm in a robe, with messy tangled hair in a loose bun.

My mark starts sparking out of control, it's way of warning me that I'm being touched and my anxiety spikes up. Pulling away from him, I stare at him.

"Look...he needs you. He's not the same, not after everything he's been through. You're his last hope. Please."

I have nothing to say, no excuses to make up. I'm not a liar, and I can tell when I'm being lied to. This person seems genuine, motives a little questionable, but really just trying his best here.

I shake off the nerves in my arms, leaning my head back a little.

"I will help. But can I at least get your name?"

His demeanor changes instantly; he smiles hugely, showing off straight teeth. He leaps forward as if to hug me, and I place my hand out, it bumping into his muscled chest.

"Sorry. My name is Zachary, but people call me Zach."

"Well, Zach; could you give me a moment to get decent and change?"

"Right! Yes of course, I'll wait in the living room."

He turns to go, and I shake my head, going back to the dryer for my clothes. What mess have I gotten myself in?

A couple hours later, I'm dressed in my clothes once more, and ready to go. I text Rowan, giving her the address to David's home so she can meet us there.

Zach doesn't seem to know the concept of staying still; he shifts, moves, and pops his joints, knuckles, etc...

It's tiring just watching him move.

"So did you drive here or?" I ask, stepping out of Rowan's house. I gesture for Zach to move on forward, locking the door behind him with the spare key Rowan gave me.

"I used my bike to get here." He replied.

"Your bike as in-"

He nods his head in the direction of a chrome colored motorcycle. It has a red paint job on it, and a helmet dangling from the handlebars.

Only one helmet.

"Come on." he says, throwing his leg over it, sitting down in it. I'm at a loss for words, because this means I'm gonna have to be in close proximity with him.

Sliding on my gloves, I take a deep breath, my mark flickering with light at my sudden spike in stress.

"Are you okay? You look like you wanna puke or something." Zach comments.

"I'm fine, just mentally bracing myself for this."

Zach nods, still looking confused as he hands me the helmet. I place it on, throwing my leg over the bike, struggling a bit since it's a bit bigger than I am. Zach leans forward, kicking the kick stand up as the bike rumbles to life.

I jump at the sudden roar, arms around his torso.

"Squeezing a bit too hard." he wheezes out. I loosen my hold on him by a fraction of a hair, and he moves the bike forward, speeding down the street.

My hold on him doesn't relax, especially when he gets way too close to the cars for comfort. At one point, my nails bit into his sides, and he yelped out in pain, and in surprise.

I made a note to apologize after we made it unscathed.