Make Me Bad(6)

Right, my eye—the one that’s halfway swollen shut.

I actually chuckle. At this point, it’s the only thing I can do. “No. If you can believe it, this happened in a different fight earlier tonight.”

“Wow.” Her brows arch in disbelief. “Ben Rosenberg, hardened street fighter. Who would have thought?”

I frown. “Sorry, I think you have the advantage. Do we know each other?”

She pushes to her feet and starts to gather up her things, which are scattered across the ground. I help her by picking up a crumpled gift bag and a Tupperware. Inside, there’s some brown sludge that hardly looks fit for human consumption. Maybe it’s not.

“Oh, no. We’ve never officially met. I’m pretty sure I would remember that.” I glance back at her as I hand off the plastic container, trying to place her features, but the light is too low and she’s too busy gathering her stuff to look at me. “Though there was a time last year when you were in front of me in the grocery store checkout line. I remember you bought roast beef. Is that weird?” She shakes her head and turns to me with a shrug. Then she holds out her hand, a small thing, and makes it clear she wants me to shake it. “I’m Madison.”

“Madison,” I repeat, a little dumbstruck. I wasn’t expecting her to be attractive. Sure, her dark brown hair is kind of wild and her cheeks are bright red from the biting wind, but she has high cheekbones and beautiful eyes, even if they’re a little sad. I realize I’ve said her name aloud two more times, and now I’m the one who looks like a weirdo even though she just admitted to stalking me at the grocery store.

“Yes,” she says, nodding as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth. I think she’s trying to keep from openly smiling at me, but I wish she’d just do it. I want to see her smile, even if it’s at my expense. “Mad-i-son. Just like that. You’ve got the hang of it.”

She’s funny.

Her hand is still outstretched, hanging awkwardly between us, so I belatedly step forward to take it. My hand engulfs hers. She’s ice cold and trembling. Of course, three minutes ago she was being held at gunpoint.

I only have her hand in mine for a brief moment before she jerks away and scans the ground again, confirming she has all her stuff.

“You’re not hurt. Are you?” I ask. “You never answered me earlier.”

She shakes her head even as her free hand reaches up to touch her hair. When she pulls it away, there’s blood on her fingers. She sees me staring and clears her throat. “It’s nothing, just a little cut from where he was holding the…”

Her sentence trails off, her gaze still on her bloody fingers, and I think she’s going to pass out or throw up. Clearly, the shock is starting to wear off.

“We should call the cops.” I got a decent enough look at the guy even with his mask on. I can recall his height and build and the direction he ran, at the very least.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll just tell my dad when I get home. Thank you for your help.”

“You still live with your dad?” Jesus, I didn’t think she was a kid, but maybe I’m wrong.

She must take my surprise for judgment because she lifts her chin proudly. “Yeah, it’s just easier with rent and all that.”

I feel like a jerk.

“Of course. Yeah, I get it. Is your dad’s house close by?” I say, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my suit pants. Even with the residual adrenaline in my veins, the cold air is starting to get harder to ignore.

“Just a few blocks. Listen, I can’t thank you enough for stepping in when you did. I’m not sure that guy would have hurt me, but still…” She shakes away the thought and glances up, her gaze meeting mine a bit unsteadily. “You probably saved my life, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.”

With that, she nods just once then turns to walk away.

I scowl.

She’s leaving? She thinks I’m going to let her walk home alone after all this? There’s a good chance that guy is still in the area.

I watch her until she reaches the end of the block and is about to cross the street. Then she suddenly stops, turns, and glances back at me, worrying her lip between her teeth before she speaks. “Actually…I know you’re probably busy what with all the street fighting and heroic deeds you have going on, but would you mind…maybe…walking me home?” Her brows scrunch together with her request and she speeds up her words, trying to rush out her reassurances. “It’s really not that far, I promise. I could just call my dad to come pick me up, but—”

“Yes, of course.”

I start to walk toward her, but then something catches my attention on the ground, and I squint, trying to discern if it’s something she left behind on accident or if it’s just a piece of trash.

“Oh,” she says, seeing it.

“It’s a birthday candle,” I say quietly.

Huh. I bend down to retrieve it and when I glance back over, I see her cheeks burning bright red as she turns and pins her gaze across the street.

Of course, I should have thought of it earlier when I saw the crumpled gift bag.

“It’s your birthday?”

She keeps her attention elsewhere, almost like she’s embarrassed to admit it. “My twenty-fifth.”