At first, I don’t see her at all. I can’t even work out where we were sitting. All I see is a group of young men, probably the same group that the one in the bathroom came from, and they’re all standing around something –
Someone, I realize. That is the table where we were sitting. They’re standing around Ashley.
I surge forward, clamping a hand down on the one nearest to me, and drag him out of my way. For a brief second, I think about how embarrassing it would be if I was completely overreacting, and they were crowding around her because she was talking to them about home or something. But one look at her face and I know that I wasn’t wrong. She looks terrified, and there’s no way she would have that expression on her face for any good reason.
“What’s going on?” I snap, directing my question at her, knowing I can’t trust any of the others for a truthful answer.
“Nando,” she says, and the absolute relief in her voice answers all of the questions I might have had. I need to get her out of here and fast. These boys, whoever they are, obviously have bad intentions, and I can’t let them prey on her for a single moment longer.
I push closer, the first couple of boys simply springing out of my way, stumbling back against the nearby tables. That gets me to her, but we still have to leave the restaurant, and I can sense the resistance in them starting to rise. They are all drunk, which is both good and bad news. Good, because they may be easier to push over. Bad, because they have no care about what they are doing.
“We’re having a conversation,” one of them slurs in a drawling Texas accent, and I quickly identify him as the ringleader. The others seem to sway around him, taking his lead, looking back at me with more distinct aggression this time.
“No, you're not,” I tell them, taking Ashley's arm in a way that I hope is not too rough. I simply need to get her out of here, and that means I'm going to have to pull her with me as I leave. I can't risk her getting left behind, or trapped, with these boys. God knows what they have in mind for her.
“Yesh we – we are,” the ringleader says, even though he is barely able to stand upright on his feet without swaying.
“You’re going to regret it if you don’t stand aside,” I warn him, though it’s more than he deserves.
“Haha! Wha- whatever, old man,” he retorts. “There’s more of us than you.”
I'm not going to get out of here without taking decisive action. I don't think anymore. I take it. I put a hand on the boy's shoulder, letting go of Ashley just for a moment, and then use my other hand to slam my fist full force into his face. I feel the crunch of his nose as it gives way. A moment later, while he reels and his friends are looking on stunned, I grab her bags from beneath the table and then her arm again. I pull her after me as we leave the restaurant, stunned patrons looking on as we go. Thanks to my punch, none of the other boys try to stop us.
Outside in the cold air, I draw Ashley against me without thinking, putting my arm around her shoulders as we walk away. I take one glance behind us to see if the boys are following, but they don’t seem to be. The danger is gone.
That's when I realize how close we are, me with my arm around her shoulders, holding her close, pressed against my side. I can feel the warmth of her body, and even though I appreciate it very much, I don't know whether she appreciates it in the same way. Does she want to be held this close against me?
Even though I can’t tell what she’s thinking, she’s breathing raggedly, and I feel her fear as she shakes and trembles against me. Rather than trying to break away from me, she seems to nestle closer against me, as if she finds my presence reassuring. In that case, I don’t pull away. I hope she finds me a safe presence to lean on. I will always be that way for her.
As we move further away from the restaurant and my mind clears a little more, I start to think that this could be a very good sign indeed. If she doesn’t pull away from me, if she wants me to be near her, then perhaps my feelings are not one-sided, as I feared they might be. Perhaps there might be a chance that she’s interested in taking this a little further too, the way that I’ve been fantasizing.