IN MORE TROUBLE

Charlotte Cane

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"ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ?" ꜱʜᴇ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ.ɢᴀɴꜱᴇʏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ. "ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ."― ᴍᴀɢɢɪᴇ ꜱᴛɪᴇꜰᴠᴀᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴ ʙᴏʏꜱ

"Hey!" the clerk snapped at me. "Over here and show my boss your 'ID'."

They were waiting for me, but I couldn't move. Or maybe I didn't dare want to.

"Did you not hear me? Show it to him!" he barks at me, snapping his fingers, clearly annoyed.

My eyes slowly drew to the doors. I was alone. I really was alone. Did they leave because they wanted to save themselves, or was it because I deserved this?

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" The clerk pushed open a little side door to come from the side of the counter. He stomped over to me, ready to chop me up and toss me to a pack of wolves as punishment.

"Give us the ID!" He tossed out his hand, impatiently waiting for me.

"U-uh..um…" I let my eyes settle on the floors like usual.

Pathetic me has to face the consequences of what I've done.

Father is going to be so mad at me. I don't even want to imagine what kind of look he'll give me. I just know it's going to be painful, I won't want to breathe.

"Don't stand there and pretend not to hear me!" The clerk yells so loudly I jump.

I have no choice but to raise my shaky hands, ready to hand it to him. But, just as my hand slightly raises, I feel something quickly grab it, pushing it back to my side.

"What ID?" A deep, cold, familiar voice intensifies my shivering body.

The well looking man I bumped into earlier stood between me and the clerk.

"...What?" The clerk blinked, gaping in confusion. He was just as shocked as me.

"I said, what ID?" he replied, a cold look in his dark eyes. If he could freeze people on sight, then he probably could with that cold stare.

"Well, sir…" The clerk nervously laughed, clearly uncomfortable by the man. "This girl had a fake ID and was trying to buy beer."

"What evidence do you have to support that?"

Baffled, I stared up at the man, trying to understand why someone like him would be sticking up for me right now.

The clerk blinked, tossing insecure glances at his manager. "Well?" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his thin neck. "I think I've just said it. The girl has a fake ID. You can see it in her hand." He pointed to my hand. "Hey! Don't act like you can't hear us!" he shouted, demanding my attention.

It was hard to pull my gaze away from the handsome tall model man standing close to me. "U-uh, yes?" I whispered, the clerk giving such a hateful glare that I felt it pierce.

"Show us all the fake ID!" he huffed with a scowl.

"U-uh….um." I lowered my eyes. My fingers were twitching as I felt the ID burn the guilt into my hand. "...I…." My voice was broken as I tried to find something more than gibberish to say. "...I don't know if I---."

"---You're wasting our time here!" The clerk angrily stepped to the side of the tall man and tried to grab my hand.

Just when I thought he was going to rip the card out of my hands, the tall handsome guy stopped him by pushing back with one hand and grabbing mine with the other.

Almost instantly, at the touch of his large hands wrapping around mine, I felt the blood rush to my head.

Was he really holding my hand?

"What is your problem?!" the clerk snapped, his anger increasingly rising with every passing moment.

"Do you have any evidence to support that this girl---," he paused, looking back at me. "---had a fake ID to buy drinks?" His grip on my hand tightened, sending more panic into my bloodstream. I had to clench my legs together to stabilize my weak knees. Alarms in my head were blaring as heat seeped into my cool skin.

"Yes, I do!" The clerk's face was burning red. "When I was checking her out at the register, she had a fake ID that I'm trying to show you now if you would stop interrupting me!"

I furrowed my brows as I peaked at the tall man. I didn't have any idea what he was trying to accomplish. But there was no way I was getting out of this. The clerk really did see me, and I think that's all the evidence he needs to get me in serious trouble.

"Are you the manager?" The tall man directed his attention to the manager, who was quietly watching.

"Yes, that is correct." The manger stepped in front of the clerk, who was blowing steam out of his red ears with every word the model man spoke. "Are you her brother or guardian?" He examined the tall man, taking a clear interest in his clean business suit.

"No, but I watched the entire encounter unfold."

"You did?" The manager and the clerk said in unison.

"Yes." He nodded. "I was by the drinks aisle when I heard a commotion. I looked at the register and I saw your employee harassing this young girl for her phone number."

"What?" The clerk's mouth dropped and so did mine.

I was shaken, but I didn't have time to shaken because something else demanded my attention. I felt the tall man's fingers fiddling with mine. It was electric as he intertwined his fingers between mines and tickled the palm of my hand.

"That didn't happen!" He was so bloated with anger his reddish orange hair was almost the same color as his face.

What was he doing? My mind was racing as he continued to make my skin sizzle.

"Rex," his boss lowly said, scintillatingly staring at him. "What's he talking about?"

"I-I don't know! He's obviously lying!" The clerk glared at him. "Look, I can prove that he's lying! Have the girl show what's in her hand!" They all directed their attention towards me. "Show us your hand!" The clerk growled. "If I'm not lying, then there shouldn't be a fake ID there!"

"...uh...um…" I gulped, bouncing my eyes around. "...Well…I…"

"Hey." The tall like man finally pulled his hand away, and I felt something missing from my grasp. "Why don't you go ahead and show everyone?"

"Yes! Show it! Show it to everyone!" The enraged clerk barked at me .

Anxious, I looked at the tall man. I could see there was something clutched in his fist.

I had to resist my eyes from widening or showing the look of 'Eureka!' as I put the pieces together.

How did he do that so skillfully?

"I…I don't have anything." I raised my empty hands slowly, struggling to conceal my guilty look.

The clerk's whole face sunk into horror. "What? But how? She had it!" He whipped around to his boss. "I promise you, boss, she had it! Look if we searched her I'm sure we would find it so just---"

"---Rex!" His boss, sternfully glared at him. "Enough." He looked at me and then at the tall man. "I'm really sorry about the inconvenience."

Wordlessly, I nodded as the tall man kept his cool, ice cold composure.

"You might want to speak to your employee, Rex---." The model like man paused, sending a murderous look to the clerk. "---About proper workplace etiquette. I don't think harassing and yelling at girls is a part of his job description."

The clerk, inflamed with infuriation, opened his mouth to speak, but his manager quickly put his hand on his shoulder.

"Rex. To the backroom. I'll have a word with you at the end of your shift."

"You gotta be kidding me!" The clerk huffed, storming to the backroom behind the register.

The manager turned his sight back to us. "Again, I'm so sorry about the trouble. You two enjoy the rest of your day." He sighed heading into the backroom and very instant the door closed, muffled arguing could be heard.

For a moment, I stood there a little shell-shocked at the whole situation.

How did I make that unscathed?

How was I saved by that man---a stranger?

I glanced to the tall man who was already heading to the gas station exit, without a word or glance my way.

Quick on my feet and eager to send my thanks, I followed out behind him.

"U-um excuse me sir!" I said, as we stepped outside, the fresh air sending strength to my lungs. "Thank you for helping me!"

His back faced me, and he stopped in a delayed manner.

"I really appreciate what you did back there," I added, waiting for him to face me. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't stepped in and----."

"---Do you like being treated like that?" He interrupted me, his voice so harsh and blunt the impact of his words punched me.

"W-what?" I fumbled over my words as his cold stare made me freeze.

"How old are you?" He curtly asks.

I blink a few times, puzzled and afraid. "Why do you need to know?"

He scanned me, briefly looking me up in down in an unfeeling and unflinching manner. "17?"

Slowly, I nodded my head.

"17 years living like that." There was nothing in his voice and face except sterile frigidness. "Do you like being treated like that?"

Under his impossibly harsh and painful glare, I felt the little strength I had left, leaving again. "I don't…I don't know what you're talking about."

He stepped towards me. "Do you like it?"

I faltered back, a little intimated. "I really don't know what you're talking about---."

"---Do you?"

My feet felt heavy. My heart felt heavy. My head felt heavy. Everything. Everything felt heavy.

I couldn't help but wonder why everyone always treated me so….

I didn't want to finish the thought. I didn't want to confront it.

As if tired of my silence, the man stared at me for an excruciating second before walking away.