Authors: Kirsty Moseley
Zach nodded, letting the door swing shut behind us. “She
just fell. I think she might be going into shock though. Can you make some tea
with lots of sugar, and then get some ice for her ankle?” he asked, leading me
over to the nearest table and helping me into one of the metal chairs. The
waiter disappeared. Zach smiled down at me as he pulled off his black hoodie
and then crouched down in front of me. “Put this on,” he ordered, already
pushing it down over my head.
“You’re so b-bossy,” I griped. He chuckled, and I leant
forward in the chair, letting him help me put my arms into the oversized
material.
The waiter came back then, setting down a mug of watery
brown liquid in front of me and a jug of milk. “Sugar is there,” he said,
motioning to a glass pot with a spout on the table. “I’ll just get some ice,”
he added before stalking off again.
Zach stood up, grabbing the sugar pot and tipping it into
the tea. I cringed and shook my head. “I don’t t-take s-sugar,” I mumbled
almost incoherently as I tried to reach for his hand to stop him putting in
more.
He shook his head, taking my hand in his and tipping the pot
up another three times. “Today you do.” I watched, disgusted as he added a
generous slosh of milk and then stirred it all up before pushing it towards me.
“Drink it,” he ordered, guiding my hand towards the cup. I cringed again, wrapping
my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers to get the
blood going again. I had no plans to drink it though.
“I don’t l-like tea with s-sugar,” I protested, trying not
to spill the contents of the mug because of my shaking hands.
He sighed deeply. “Drink it, Maisie. It’ll help you,” he
insisted, wrapping his hands around mine and lifting the cup, guiding it
towards my mouth. As I opened my mouth to protest he forced the cup up, tipping
some of the sickly sweet warm liquid into my mouth. I groaned, swallowing it
quickly just to get rid of it as he tipped the cup up again sloshing more into
my mouth. After the third mouthful the waiter came back, so Zach took the cup
away from my mouth, helping me set it down on the table.
“Ugh, that’s gross!” I whined, shuddering at the lingering
taste in my mouth.
“Is this okay?” the waiter asked, holding out a bowl of ice
and a small, thin, blue towel.
Zach nodded, smiling gratefully. “Perfect, thanks.” I
watched as he laid out the towel before scooping out a handful of ice into the
middle then wrapping it up into a thick bandage shape. “Let’s get this on
then,” he mused, reaching down and taking hold of my calf, carefully guiding my
foot up and into his lap. I looked down at it and turned my nose up, seeing a
lump on the outside of my ankle. A small, surprised yelp left my lips as Zach
laid the extremely cold towel containing the ice onto my ankle. “Alright?” Zach
asked, nodding down at the makeshift icepack. I nodded, smiling gratefully.
“Drink your tea,” he added, motioning towards my cup again. I pouted but
reluctantly raised it to my lips, wincing as some of it spilled over the edge,
dripping into my lap and down my chin. When I put the cup down he took my hand,
picking up a napkin and dipping it into the ice bowl, wetting it a little
before using it to clean up the cuts on my hands.
“So, why were you running? You said you were frightened,
what spooked you?” Zach asked, cocking his head to the side and watching me
curiously as he worked.
I sighed, reaching for my purse that he’d dropped onto the
table when we came in. I pulled out my cell phone, noticing scratches on my
screen and a little chip at the edge, but at least it wasn’t smashed beyond
repair. “I got another couple of m-messages from the private number, and I
f-freaked out. I was just trying to get back to my car so I could go home and
then you shouted but I didn’t know it was you. I assumed it was the p-person
who sent the messages. Want to s-see?” I offered, holding out my phone to him,
noticing that the shaking was easing up slightly now.
He nodded, taking the phone from my hand and fiddling with
it for a few seconds. I watched his face as he read them. “What the hell?” he
growled. His head snapped up, looking around quickly, before fixing his eyes on
the café window, squinting, obviously trying to check the street for the
perpetrator. “Someone was watching you? Why the hell are you out on your own
with all of this going on, Maisie? That’s stupid!” he berated. “You need to
call the police, show them these. Did you see anyone else hanging around the
street other than me?” he asked.
I shook my head quickly, drinking the last of my tea. “No, I
was too busy fleeing for my life,” I joked. The sugar was obviously kicking in
now, my brain was slowly returning to normal, and I could focus again.
Zach didn’t laugh. Instead, he put the phone down on the
table and slid it across to me. “Why the hell has your brother let you out on
your own? Does he know all what’s going on, that someone’s calling you and
stuff? He shouldn’t let you out on your own, I thought better of him than
that,” he ranted, shaking his head in disbelief.
I frowned at his anger. It was kind of sweet, I knew he was
only angry because he obviously didn’t want to see me hurt, but I still didn’t
like him complaining about my brother – or inadvertently about my dad. “I was
going to Charlotte’s. I was supposed to go straight there and call when I got
there. But I forgot the DVD so I stopped at the rental place. I thought it
would be fine. I didn’t think,” I muttered. Suddenly, what I’d said registered
in my head. I was supposed to call home. My dad was expecting a call any minute
to tell me I’d got to Charlotte’s safely. I winced, knowing he was going to be
even angrier with me than Zach was when he found out that I’d stopped to get a
movie.
Zach made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “If
you were my sister I’d never let you hear the end of this,” he muttered.
“Do you have a sister?” I asked, suddenly aware that I
didn’t know much about him at all.
He shook his head quickly, still looking angry with me for
being out on my own. “No. I’m an only child.”
I stored that little titbit of information for another day
but tried to get back to the matter at hand. “Zach, will you do me a massive
favour?” I asked, smiling what I hoped was a persuasive smile. He nodded in
agreement, so I continued. “Will you call my dad and tell him what happened?
Tell him where I am and that I’m fine, but ask him to come and get me?” I
asked.
He raised one eyebrow. “So you can prolong the asskicking
you’re going to get for not going straight to Charlotte’s house?” he teased.
“Yeah. Please?” I begged. I just needed another few minutes
before I was subjected to that scolding. Hopefully by the time my dad arrived
here he would have calmed down slightly before I had to deal with him.
Zach sighed, picking up my phone and finding my home phone
number on there. “You owe me,” he muttered as he put the phone to his ear. I
watched as Zach explained that he was with me and that I’d gotten frightened by
a text and fallen over. He told my dad where we were, offered to drive me home
and was obviously subject to a verbal lashing because he winced a lot and
opened his mouth to speak but then was obviously cut off. The whole time he was
on the phone, Zach’s fingers were tracing a pattern on my shin. I didn’t think
he was even aware he was doing it. It was extremely distracting but nice in a
strange, unfamiliar way. No one had really touched me like that other than
Luke, and it wasn’t that it was sexual at all, but it was just intimate in a
comforting way. I liked it.
When he disconnected the call he smirked over at me. “You’re
in deep trouble, missy. Your dad asked me to pass that message on,” he gloated
smugly. I groaned helplessly, not even bothering to protest. No doubt I would
be grounded for as long as I lived when my dad arrived. Zach lifted the towel
off of my foot, refilling it with ice. “This looks a lot better now,” he
commented, placing the freshly made icepack back over my ankle.
“Where did you learn first aid anyway?” I asked. He’d not
even been fazed by me hurting myself at all. I would have been a mess if
someone had fallen and then gone into shock in front of me.
He shrugged. “You pick up a lot of stuff as you go along. I
see a lot of injuries while I’m training,” he answered. “So, do you have any
idea who’s sending you those messages?” he asked, motioning towards my phone.
I shrugged noncommittally. “I thought it was Sandy, but…”
Understanding crossed his face. “Ahh, now I get the reason
behind the fight the other day. You said something about her poisoning your
dog,” he muttered. “Did you really think it was her?”
“Yep,” I answered. “So now I have no clue. The police
obviously have no leads either because they arrested you,” I added, rolling my
eyes.
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never
really had anyone believe in me before. Only ever Olivia,” he mused, seeming a
little taken aback by it. “The police were going on and on. They didn’t really
want to let me go I don’t think, but they’re just trying to pin it on someone.
I guess someone like me fits the bill pretty nicely.” His tone was harsh, hurt,
and full of annoyance.
I chewed on my lip, trying to read his expression to see
whether I should say this or not or if he would be angry with me for bringing
it up. I decided just to go for it, I could always apologise if I upset him. “They
said you had previous history…” I trailed off, wincing because I was prying
into something that was clearly none of my business and he was perfectly within
his rights to tell me to butt out of it.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine before dropping back down
to the table. “Yeah I do.” I held my breath, hoping he would continue. He
sighed, massaging the back of his neck roughly. “I used to be… different.
Before I discovered parkour I was a mess. You see, I have ADHD which basically
means that I have too much energy and no concentration span. I get bored really
easily, especially when structure is involved, so school is kind of hard for
me. Because I was acting up in class I got myself a bit of a reputation, and
because of that I fell in with a bad crowd. One thing led to another, and I did
a lot of stuff that I’m not proud of. I can’t ever get rid of that past
unfortunately, so I guess they see a kid with a bad rap sheet with his
fingerprints in the scene of a crime and automatically I’m guilty.”
I gulped, taken aback by all of that information. “You have
ADHD?” That explained a lot actually.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m on medication for it and stuff, but
sometimes I get a little… over the top. That’s why I run and exercise a lot. It
seems to calm me down. My condition is also why I have to graduate this year so
I can prove to the film producers that I can stay on track and be committed to
something,” he explained. “Oh, and apparently I have an attitude problem and
dislike authority too, but that’s common with ADHD sufferers.”
I gulped, unsure what to say. “Oh.”
A grin split his face. “Yeah, I only ever told one person,
and that was his reaction too,” he mused.
“I just don’t know much about the condition so…” I trailed
off, looking at him apologetically.
He shrugged. “It’s a genetic thing. My dad actually had it
too. He was worse than me though because he refused to stay on his tablets.”
I looked at him curiously, wondering how to word this next
question. “Why do you always talk about your dad in the past tense? Is he,” I
winced, “has he died?”
Zach frowned, nodding and looking down at my ankle again,
adjusting the cold compress probably just for something to do. “Yeah. He killed
himself a couple of years ago,” he confirmed. Inwardly I groaned at that
information, overcome by a wave of compassion. “My mom didn’t cope too well
when he died, so she turned to drink. I guess me being trouble all the time
made that worse too. When I was seventeen she told me to leave. I was still
going through a bad phase then, but Olivia took me in and saw something in me
that no one else saw. I owe her a lot.”
All of these revelations made me understand Zach and his
attitude just that little bit more. His condition and his parents abandoning
him one way or another was probably the reason that he put on that cocky, rude
act in a bid to try and keep everyone else away from him. Maybe it was why he’d
once told me that he didn’t date. The words slipped out of my mouth before I
could stop them.
“Is that why you said that you wouldn’t want a girl to fall
in love with you?” I asked.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, a bewildered, shocked
expression on his face as if he hadn’t expected me to remember that he’d said
that once when we were sat in my bedroom. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t
want to inflict this disease on someone else. My mom went through hell every
time my dad refused to take his tablets and stuff. I saw what it did to her
when he’d lose his job all the time because he’d lashed out at his co-workers
or just didn’t show up because he’d forgotten or gotten distracted. He sank
into depression and dragged her down with him too. And then he left her in the
end, left her with a kid that he’d infected with the same poison.” His hand
tightened into a fist on the table as he looked out of the café window. “It’s
best if I just stay single, that way I won’t put anyone through what my mom
went through. Plus, the genetic line will end with me then. No baby Anderson’s
to fuck up anyone else’s lives then.”
I watched him, shocked by the passion that went into his
words. He truly meant it. “So you’ll never date a girl, ever?” I clarified.
He shook his head, adjusting the towel on my ankle again.
“Nope.”
“Have you ever dated?” I asked, suddenly wondering now about
his past. Was that why he was so embarrassed when I joked about him touching my
ass outside earlier? He shook his head, frowning down at his hands as his
finger started tracing a pattern on my shin again. “Wow. I think that’s…” I
struggled for the right word to finish that sentence.