Julian

III. March, Ch. 36

     From getting physically close to Douglas during rehearsals to having Bruce witness her every move, everything made Shelley want to quit.

     Calvin's amazement with her performance, however, kept her firmly in place.

     After two hours of discomfort, Calvin, Roger, and Cookie gave some final words to the troop, then dismissed them.

     Not wanting others to know how she got to the theater, Shelley waited indoors for everyone to disperse before heading for the bus stop.

     She was approaching the street corner when she saw him.

     Her first instinct was to run.

     Bruce paced the pavement with a lit cigarette in his mouth. He took a short drag, then blew the smoke out once he noticed Shelley.

     She stood still. Her fight-or-flight response ordered her to walk the other way, but she chose to walk past him without looking up.

     "Where are you going?" asked Bruce.

     She walked faster. "Home."

     "Hey, hold your horses."

     The thought that he was only stopping her to tease her some more made her sad. "Leave me alone."

     "Don't get sassy with me. I'm trying to thank you for lunch."

     She stopped and turned to him. She kept quiet, waiting for an apology. It didn't come, and Shelley suspected she wouldn't get one in her lifetime. "It's fine."

     His hand reached for something in the back pocket of his jeans. "At least let me pay you for it."

     Accepting money for a good deed was not how she was raised. The sight of Bruce's money alone would surely make her run away. "No, no. I told you. I don't want your money."

     Bruce froze a little, then slid his wallet back into his pocket, eyeing her suspiciously. He nudged his head towards a strange car across the street. "Is that your ride?"

     She looked at the car. "No."

     "Don't tell me you're walking home."

     She looked down again. "I'm taking the bus."

     Bruce dropped his finished cigarette on the sidewalk. "Forget that. I'll drive you home."

     "That's okay. Thanks."

     Bruce reached for her hand. "You're not getting on a bus after dark."

     The touch of his hand surprised her. "I... I don't think my house is on your way. And it's not even that dark yet."

     "Do you want to get kidnapped and skinned alive by some creep who wants to harvest your organs?"

     Shelley's mouth fell open. She shook her head, terrified.

     He grabbed the bag she was holding and tossed it over his shoulder.

     Shelley followed.

     When they stopped in front of his car, she was reminded of just how rich he was.

     Before her was the most beautiful sports car she'd ever seen outside of a James Bond movie. It was a two-door coupé, verde green, with a fresh coat of hot wax. She felt poor just looking at it.

     Bruce opened the passenger's side door. "Get in."

     She was taken aback by his rough manners.