[ A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ]
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❝We accept the love we think we deserve.❞
But what does that really mean?
This is Eva's story; a tale of a wayward girl who had a heart of glass and when it broke, forgot that light tends to creep in through the cr...
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There were ten minutes left for the pub to close down.
It had been two weeks since she'd started work here, and despite what the redhead Valerie had told her earlier about getting used to it, Care still felt slightly uncomfortable around some of their customers.
The man who'd grabbed her during her second night at this damned place kept showing up frequently and his hands always found a way to some part of her body.
She had to bite her tongue and accept it because her boss had made it very clear to her that if she wanted to stay, she needed to keep her mouth shut.
There was no other place for her to get a job. She wasn't even educated. What choice did she really have?
Feeling like she was being watched, she looked up to see a familiar pair of grey eyes staring at her from one of the bar stools. Her stomach clenched. It was him-that man who'd asked her for her name weeks ago- the same one who looked out of place in such a sketchy part of town. And the same one who's been coming to the bar frequently now. She didn't know what to make of it and was glad she never had to serve him again so far- it didn't create a situation where she had to make conversation with him.
Turning away, she took the huge jug of beer she was asked to deliver to the last booth by the far corner of the pub, and headed towards the said direction. Her footsteps faltered when her eyes landed on the man occupying the particular booth.
It was the same one who'd grabbed her during her first week here, and the same one who'd continued with his antics every single day since. The one who she soon learned was named Greg.
Ignoring the sense of foreboding in her stomach, she proceeded to do her job. Placing the jug on the tabletop, she began to turn away but she felt the rough hand latch on to her wrist. It was his hand. She'd grown accustomed to that rough, aggressive touch by now.
She'd grown accustomed, not comfortable. She still hated the feverish disgust that crawled all over her skin whenever his skin made contact with hers.
His hand tightened, almost tugging her back towards him.
Desperate, she cast her eyes around, wordlessly pleading, begging for anyone- even Valerie to step up.
Most of them were oblivious to what was happening, the few who noticed were pretending to be busy with something else and then there were one or two who just smirked and whistled, urging him on.
He tugged harder one last time until she staggered and dragged her down onto his lap. "C'mon, take a seat. There's really no reason to be playing hard to get now."
Care's heart beat rapidly, dread washing over her.
"P-please," she managed to get out, "Just l-let me go-I won't tell anyone."
He laughed. "Who's there to tell, love? Come on, live a little."
She shook her head. She wanted to scream but what would be the point? The music was blaring from the speakers and anyone who wanted to have a normal conversation would have to scream anyway.
His expression grew impatient. "Don't be like that! You women are all the same- dressing like a bunch of prostitutes and then pushing us men away when we respond." He yanked her wrist, standing up from the booth and dragging her with him into the direction of the staff washroom.
The instant they stepped inside the smelly washroom, he pushed her up against the wall and she shut her eyes, not fighting back. With Tristan, it was the same. She knew she had to take the pain as it was given to her if she wanted it to be over quickly. But before he could do anything, something hit him from the side and he went flying to the floor.
Care screamed, covering her mouth with her hands. She looked at the man who'd just saved her and recognized the pair of grey eyes as they stared back at her.
"You okay?" he asked gruffly.
Care nodded, unable to speak, shocked by how lucky she got. The man stood before her- the one she'd been so eager to avoid suddenly seemed like a miracle wrapped in human skin.
Greg, who'd already been completely wasted, seemed to be knocked out after the fall.
"He'll be fine," the man who'd intervened said, "let's get you outta' here. Your shift's over anyway, yeah?"
"Yeah," Care replied hoarsely.
It was when they were walking towards an expensive-looking car did Care once again notice the clothes her saviour was wearing and how out-of-place it made him look. Black office slacks, a blue shirt with the top two buttons undone, expensive shoes and a tie hanging out his front pocket.
It obviously looked like he came to the pub straight after work. But what Care didn't get was why someone like him would even choose to come to this part of the town. He obviously looked like he came from money.
Only once he'd driven her home, parked in front of her house and she proceeded to get out, did he speak.
"You never really told me what I get to call you...?"
"Care," she answered, a first real smile on her face since this morning.
"Logan," his lips twitched, suppressing a smile of his own.
"Well, then, thanks for the save today, Logan."
"Don't worry about it... hey, I've been meaning to ask for a few days now... would you, maybe, like to grab dinner some time this week?" his fingers tapped the steering wheel, as if he couldn't wait for her reply.
Care beamed. "I'd love that."
And with that same big smile on her face, she walked towards her home.
--------------------------------------------------- Written; 28th March 2016 ---------------------------------------------------
