5: Mending Open Wounds

Staring at his stupid smile filling her screen, "Don't you know I don't want to talk to you?!" Harper whisper-shouts at the inanimate object before her hand falls to her side with a defeated whine.

Clutching the phone hard enough for her fingers to go pale, "But if he's -trying- to fix things…"

She decides to answer the call before losing it, as that would surely cause another argument on top of a long list of grievances between them.

"Yeah?"

Heat floods her face and only shallow breaths tease her tightening lungs, the unknowingness behind this call making it hard for her to think straight, "Howdy, Harp…"

Falling silent, he awaits a response yet receives wind.

Hesitantly continuing, "Did you see the bear?"

Detached, she uttered a quiet, "Yeah."

A tinge of excitement peaks in his voice, the hope in his tone sickening her to her stomach, "What about breakfast?"

She rolls her eyes before forcing a friendly smile to hide disdain from her colleague, Lisa, who passes her on the way to her car with a smile and goodbye wave.

"Yeah," she squats, shaking her head at the unintentional perk in her voice during a forced smile to the lady that covered her ass without complaint over an early, yet long, lunch.

Hoping he doesn't read too far into her one-word-answers, she places her navy backpack on the sidewalk and enters the combination on her bike chain lock.

Wanting to ask him why he was wasting her time in the first place, she decides to keep quiet in hopes to avoid a hostile environment in the off chance he'll be home when she gets there.

Dumping the gray chain and lock into her overstuffed school bag, he simply says, "Good. Good."

Swinging it on her back, she hastily straddles her yellow, thrift store bicycle with white handlebars.

Preparing to tell him she's about to ride home and won't be able to stay on the phone, she hangs her head at the optimistic, southern accent that once made her swoon, "If it's okay with you, I could pick you up from work…"

Enjoying the thought of riding home comfortably in cloth, bucket seats surrounded by the icy touch of an air conditioner, reality strikes.

She had no clue if this was really a good idea. Searching her surroundings, his truck is nowhere in sight, a mental sigh of relief briefly graces her.

"You don't have to. I'm ready to ride and you probably got more important—."

"I'm 'round the corner. And you know you're the most important to me."

Tapping her fingers on the handles and flaring her nostrils, working diligently to refrain from throwing his lying words back into his ear, she clutches the grooved, rubber grips and twists.

Worried they'll end up fighting on her job's doorstep, his reassurance snatches her out of tunneling vision.

"I can put your bike in the back an'," he clears his throat.

The fear of rejection is loud in his vocal chords on its way to tug at her heart strings, "Take you out. Y'know, spoil you proper."

Afraid to say yes or no, her heart jumps into her throat when his black metal beauty drifts into view on the quiet main street.

Hearing the signal clicking in her ear through the receiver, she feels as though telling him 'no' won't do anything since he's already here.

Even though her co-workers know she's having problems at home, -he- doesn't know that they know and she mentally prays none of them make an effort of butting in if they leave the building while he's there.

Covering her face with her free hand when he turns into the lot, confirming in her mind that it's his truck, "I guess…if that's what -you- want," she emphasizes as if he would get the message that it's what he wants and not exactly what she wants.

"'Course it is, gorgeous! Be right there," the call ends.

Groaning angrily, she dismounts her ride. Setting the kickstand in place, she tucks her phone into her pants' pocket.

Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up the closer he gets while hidden behind tinted-windows, she swallows hard when he pulls up alongside the chunk of pavement securing the metal bike rack.

Orange hazard lights flash before he rushes from around the driver's side in a fitted, v-neck t-shirt and dark jeans to open the passenger door with a friendly gesture to enter.

Nodding with a quiet thanks, she glances from the inside of an unusually spotless, leather interior, to watch him easily carry her bike to the bed of his truck before gently lifting it over the side and laying it down.

Subconsciously, Harper's eyes fix on the way his sea-green shirt hugs flexing muscles while he moves. Firmly grasping the black, nylon straps of her bag, she drops it from her back and looks away when a weaponized smile intrudes her first line of defense.

"Here," taking the backpack from her hands and performing a curl with the unexpected weight,

"Harp," disappointment fills his face.

With a concerned grimace, "This weight'll kill your back. And what if–."

Hoisting herself up into the truck using the mounted, silver step and interior handlebar, "Nothings' going to happen to me riding my bike with that on my back."

Shaking her head after sitting inside, Clyde fills her doorway as she buckles her seatbelt, "I see other students do it all the time on campus."

A venous hand reaches to open the half door behind her seat to place the bag inside, "Besides," she turns in her seat to keep an eye on him, "I -need- to study as much as possible so I don't fail my exams."

Watching him close the backseat door then brace his forearms on the roof of the truck above her head, the scent of his musk and spiced-wood cologne reminds her of the attraction they once shared, "I can't afford to fail."

Staring at the fidgeting hands in her lap, she thinks over a staggering amount of things she can't afford to fail because she couldn't handle the shame and embarrassment that would ensue.

Sighing softly, "Come on," he places a calloused hand on top of hers and twiddling fingers stop under his rugged embrace, "You're the smartest person I know," he gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

"You couldn't fail even if you tried."

Gently leading her hand closer to his lips as he hunches to join tender, pink flesh to hers, she shivers when he kisses her knuckles.

Swept by the endearing tides in his eyes as they seemingly pop from dark lashes and a matching, sea green shirt, Harper finds another line of her defenses abolished.