“I don’t l-like tea with s-sugar,” I protested, trying not to spill the contents of the mug because of my shaking hands.
He sighed deeply. “Drink it, Maisie. It’ll help you,” he insisted, wrapping his hands around mine and lifting the cup, guiding it towards my mouth. As I opened my mouth to protest he forced the cup up, tipping some of the sickly sweet warm liquid into my mouth. I groaned, swallowing it quickly just to get rid of it as he tipped the cup up again sloshing more into my mouth. After the third mouthful the waiter came back, so Zach took the cup away from my mouth, helping me set it down on the table.
“Ugh, that’s gross!” I whined, shuddering at the lingering taste in my mouth.
“Is this okay?” the waiter asked, holding out a bowl of ice and a small, thin, blue towel.
Zach nodded, smiling gratefully. “Perfect, thanks.” I watched as he laid out the towel before scooping out a handful of ice into the middle then wrapping it up into a thick bandage shape. “Let’s get this on then,” he mused, reaching down and taking hold of my calf, carefully guiding my foot up and into his lap. I looked down at it and turned my nose up, seeing a lump on the outside of my ankle. A small, surprised yelp left my lips as Zach laid the extremely cold towel containing the ice onto my ankle. “Alright?” Zach asked, nodding down at the makeshift icepack. I nodded, smiling gratefully. “Drink your tea,” he added, motioning towards my cup again. I pouted but reluctantly raised it to my lips, wincing as some of it spilled over the edge, dripping into my lap and down my chin. When I put the cup down he took my hand, picking up a napkin and dipping it into the ice bowl, wetting it a little before using it to clean up the cuts on my hands.
“So, why were you running? You said you were frightened, what spooked you?” Zach asked, cocking his head to the side and watching me curiously as he worked.
I sighed, reaching for my purse that he’d dropped onto the table when we came in. I pulled out my cell phone, noticing scratches on my screen and a little chip at the edge, but at least it wasn’t smashed beyond repair. “I got another couple of m-messages from the private number, and I f-freaked out. I was just trying to get back to my car so I could go home and then you shouted but I didn’t know it was you. I assumed it was the p-person who sent the messages. Want to s-see?” I offered, holding out my phone to him, noticing that the shaking was easing up slightly now.
He nodded, taking the phone from my hand and fiddling with it for a few seconds. I watched his face as he read them. “What the hell?” he growled. His head snapped up, looking around quickly, before fixing his eyes on the café window, squinting, obviously trying to check the street for the perpetrator. “Someone was watching you? Why the hell are you out on your own with all of this going on, Maisie? That’s stupid!” he berated. “You need to call the police, show them these. Did you see anyone else hanging around the street other than me?” he asked.
I shook my head quickly, drinking the last of my tea. “No, I was too busy fleeing for my life,” I joked. The sugar was obviously kicking in now, my brain was slowly returning to normal, and I could focus again.
Zach didn’t laugh. Instead, he put the phone down on the table and slid it across to me. “Why the hell has your brother let you out on your own? Does he know all what’s going on, that someone’s calling you and stuff? He shouldn’t let you out on your own, I thought better of him than that,” he ranted, shaking his head in disbelief.
I frowned at his anger. It was kind of sweet, I knew he was only angry because he obviously didn’t want to see me hurt, but I still didn’t like him complaining about my brother – or inadvertently about my dad. “I was going to Charlotte’s. I was supposed to go straight there and call when I got there. But I forgot the DVD so I stopped at the rental place. I thought it would be fine. I didn’t think,” I muttered. Suddenly, what I’d said registered in my head. I was supposed to call home. My dad was expecting a call any minute to tell me I’d got to Charlotte’s safely. I winced, knowing he was going to be even angrier with me than Zach was when he found out that I’d stopped to get a movie.
Zach made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “If you were my sister I’d never let you hear the end of this,” he muttered.
“Do you have a sister?” I asked, suddenly aware that I didn’t know much about him at all.
He shook his head quickly, still looking angry with me for being out on my own. “No. I’m an only child.”
I stored that little titbit of information for another day but tried to get back to the matter at hand. “Zach, will you do me a massive favour?” I asked, smiling what I hoped was a persuasive smile. He nodded in agreement, so I continued. “Will you call my dad and tell him what happened? Tell him where I am and that I’m fine, but ask him to come and get me?” I asked.
He raised one eyebrow. “So you can prolong the asskicking you’re going to get for not going straight to Charlotte’s house?” he teased.
“Yeah. Please?” I begged. I just needed another few minutes before I was subjected to that scolding. Hopefully by the time my dad arrived here he would have calmed down slightly before I had to deal with him.
Zach sighed, picking up my phone and finding my home phone number on there. “You owe me,” he muttered as he put the phone to his ear. I watched as Zach explained that he was with me and that I’d gotten frightened by a text and fallen over. He told my dad where we were, offered to drive me home and was obviously subject to a verbal lashing because he winced a lot and opened his mouth to speak but then was obviously cut off. The whole time he was on the phone, Zach’s fingers were tracing a pattern on my shin. I didn’t think he was even aware he was doing it. It was extremely distracting but nice in a strange, unfamiliar way. No one had really touched me like that other than Luke, and it wasn’t that it was sexual at all, but it was just intimate in a comforting way. I liked it.
When he disconnected the call he smirked over at me. “You’re in deep trouble, missy. Your dad asked me to pass that message on,” he gloated smugly. I groaned helplessly, not even bothering to protest. No doubt I would be grounded for as long as I lived when my dad arrived. Zach lifted the towel off of my foot, refilling it with ice. “This looks a lot better now,” he commented, placing the freshly made icepack back over my ankle.
“Where did you learn first aid anyway?” I asked. He’d not even been fazed by me hurting myself at all. I would have been a mess if someone had fallen and then gone into shock in front of me.
He shrugged. “You pick up a lot of stuff as you go along. I see a lot of injuries while I’m training,” he answered. “So, do you have any idea who’s sending you those messages?” he asked, motioning towards my phone.
I shrugged noncommittally. “I thought it was Sandy, but…”
Understanding crossed his face. “Ahh, now I get the reason behind the fight the other day. You said something about her poisoning your dog,” he muttered. “Did you really think it was her?”
“Yep,” I answered. “So now I have no clue. The police obviously have no leads either because they arrested you,” I added, rolling my eyes.
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never really had anyone believe in me before. Only ever Olivia,” he mused, seeming a little taken aback by it. “The police were going on and on. They didn’t really want to let me go I don’t think, but they’re just trying to pin it on someone. I guess someone like me fits the bill pretty nicely.” His tone was harsh, hurt, and full of annoyance.
I chewed on my lip, trying to read his expression to see whether I should say this or not or if he would be angry with me for bringing it up. I decided just to go for it, I could always apologise if I upset him. “They said you had previous history…” I trailed off, wincing because I was prying into something that was clearly none of my business and he was perfectly within his rights to tell me to butt out of it.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine before dropping back down to the table. “Yeah I do.” I held my breath, hoping he would continue. He sighed, massaging the back of his neck roughly. “I used to be… different. Before I discovered parkour I was a mess. You see, I have ADHD which basically means that I have too much energy and no concentration span. I get bored really easily, especially when structure is involved, so school is kind of hard for me. Because I was acting up in class I got myself a bit of a reputation, and because of that I fell in with a bad crowd. One thing led to another, and I did a lot of stuff that I’m not proud of. I can’t ever get rid of that past unfortunately, so I guess they see a kid with a bad rap sheet with his fingerprints in the scene of a crime and automatically I’m guilty.”
I gulped, taken aback by all of that information. “You have ADHD?” That explained a lot actually.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m on medication for it and stuff, but sometimes I get a little… over the top. That’s why I run and exercise a lot. It seems to calm me down. My condition is also why I have to graduate this year so I can prove to the film producers that I can stay on track and be committed to something,” he explained. “Oh, and apparently I have an attitude problem and dislike authority too, but that’s common with ADHD sufferers.”
I gulped, unsure what to say. “Oh.”
A grin split his face. “Yeah, I only ever told one person, and that was his reaction too,” he mused.
“I just don’t know much about the condition so…” I trailed off, looking at him apologetically.
He shrugged. “It’s a genetic thing. My dad actually had it too. He was worse than me though because he refused to stay on his tablets.”
I looked at him curiously, wondering how to word this next question. “Why do you always talk about your dad in the past tense? Is he,” I winced, “has he died?”