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“Harlow! Wait!” Jessie called, and I knew she was racing after me.
An aside: for three years, Mom was angry with me because I didn’t try out for the track team. I was a good runner. Fast with great form. My gym teacher was the track coach, and he practically begged my parents to get me to try out.
The thing was, I wasn’t a jock. I had no interest in it. My view of running was the same as Val Kilmer’s in Real Genius, I’d do it…only when chased (and to add my bit, only when graded on it).
Like, with the chasing part, kinda…now.
Thus, I got to Javi fast and panted, “Let’s just go.”
He was looking between me and Jessie, asking, “Are you okay?”
I pressed a hand into his chest and begged, “Please, can we just go?”
Javi stopped looking between me and my girls, stared hard at me, then his face got kinda scary.
Jessie was there, I could feel her. I could also hear the others running up to us, including the clattering of Jinx’s platform heels, and in another scenario, I would have liked to have witnessed Jinx running in those shoes. I bet she was good at it.
Now, I was stuck between two evils, at this juncture Javi being the lesser one, and I just wanted to get out of there.
Suddenly, Javi was not messing around. He scorched Jess with a scowl, included the rest of them in it, all while he dragged me to the driver’s side door. He had it open, and I was up and in because he picked me up and shoved me in before I could let out a squeak.
I scrambled across the cab to sit in the passenger seat as I heard Javi growl, “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but right now, all you bitches are gonna back off.”
He’d barely got that out before he hauled his big body in, slammed the door and started up his truck.
I resolutely didn’t look at my gang as he backed out, headed toward the exit and then we were away.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Don’t make me talk about it or I might cry,” I answered while valiantly trying not to cry.
“I don’t give a shit if you cry. I give a shit if you’re okay,” he returned.
Really…
Why?
Why couldn’t this awesome guy like me?
I made one of those gross sobbing hiccup noises.
“Baby,” he whispered.
Really!
Why couldn’t this awesome guy like me?
I looked out the side window and tried to pull myself together.
“Lil’ mama, talk to me,” he urged gently.
He wanted to talk?
Okay, we’d talk!
I twisted toward him. “I didn’t tell them you were mean to me last night. And before you say anything, I get it. You don’t like me. Does that hurt?”
“Harlow—”