BEAUTIFUL BROKEN MESS (Broken, Series #2)(3)

After making my purchases, I walk down the sidewalk toward the bus stop, gazing inside the shop windows as I go by. I love admiring all of the items I can never afford to have, like books, new clothes, or even jewelry. Just as I pass by my favorite bookstore, a large figure carrying a giant box steps out of the door and slams right into me before I can get out of the way. I watch in horror as my bag of groceries crashes to the ground. My stomach plummets when I hear the worst sound of all…the whiskey bottle shattering inside the bag.

I suck in an enormous lungful of air and fall to my knees. “No, no, no…” I whisper through a sob. Tears well up in my eyes at the idea of going home empty-handed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” I hear the stranger say, as he sits his box on the ground and kneels down in front of me. “Let me help you clean this up.”

“No, no, no…” I repeat, lost in the idea of how my father will react to this. I’m still not looking up at whoever just signed my death warrant, but I watch his strong hands as he scoops the shattered glass and the soaking wet boxes back into the torn paper bag. The spilt milk mixed with the smell of whiskey is nauseating.

“Damn, I think all of this is ruined. I’m really sorry,” he continues, with a hopeless apology that won’t keep the bruises at bay.

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.”