I’ve fantasized about what it would feel like to be pinned against a wall by a man like that, forced into submission, taken with passion instead of being sold off to one of my father’s friends like a piece of meat.
But I could never say anything to him. I couldn’t. How could I bring another person into my own personal hell and not feel guilty about it? My family is a mess, my father would probably kill him, or at least have him beaten to within an inch of his life, if he even knew we’d made eye contact.
I would never do that to another person.
When I turn back around, he seems to have vanished, and I frown, puzzled, until I spot a couple of other joggers stopping in the middle of the track and going over to the side, and notice that he’s flat on his back.
“Oh no...” I mutter, then glance at the kids. “Bobby, you’re in charge for five minutes, I need to go help someone.”
“OK, Amara,” he chirps, grinning with pride at being the one left in charge.
I rush off the ice, hurrying to remove my skates and jogging around the running track in socks, heading for where he’s fallen. Other people are just standing around gawking—or worse, laughing—and I don’t see anything here that’s for their entertainment. I push through them, huffing, and crouch down beside him.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
A girl beside me dressed in running clothes glances my way. “I’m a nurse,” she says. “I’ve checked him over and he seems all right physically.”
“No I’m not,” he says, meeting my eyes again and my heart skips a beat. There’s so much in that look, so many words that don’t need to be spoken. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
For a second, I forget all the reasons I don’t want anyone else in my life and the smile takes over my face. I feel my eyes pulling up in the corners as the blush blooms on my skin. Then I wonder, my heart sinking, if he’s talking about the nurse, who’s very obviously skinnier than me in her tight running clothes, blonde hair tied back in a sexy pony tail. I could never compete with—
My breath catches in my throat as I feel his fingers grasping mine, and realize he’s staring right into my eyes.
“Amara, right?”
“Um…” What are words? How do you say things? Is Amara my name? “Yes?” I answer, unsure, and see him grin.
“I’m Saint. I was trying to figure out a way to talk to you, I guess that tree did me a favor.”
“The grass is wet,” I tell him. “You should be careful.”
“Just the way I want it,” he says, and I blush, the innuendo clear in his tone.
The blonde girl has already decided he’s fine and stood from her crouching position, continuing with her run, and the rest of the crowd has dispersed. It’s just the two of us and I can’t believe the way my skin is tingling along with… other parts. I’m not completely innocent about what’s going on. My father was more indulgent than my grandparents said he should be, allowing me to go to school rather than hiring a tutor to teach me at home. I learned about sex and even kissed a boy once, though it wasn’t the best experience I’ve ever had, but I’ve never ever had this reaction to a man before.
My body is telling me to rub my thighs together, just to find some relief from the pressure that’s building, and my heart is racing. But it’s my head that wins out, and I pull my hand away from his like I’ve been burned.
“Glad you’re OK,” I tell him, forcing a smile to my face as I step back. “Be more careful, please.”
“Wait. Amara…”
I’m already retreating and force myself to ignore his words. It hurts right now, but it’s best for him if he just forgets that I exist. As for me, I guess I’ll just stay lonely for the rest of my life because it’s the only way to stop anyone I care about getting hurt.
***
I see him run past a few more times before I leave the park, but the light fades from the sky quickly at this time of year and it isn’t long before the parents of the kids I’m teaching to skate start turning up to take their little ones away. I feel the loss every time, which is silly and I know I should be happy to have my own peace and quiet, but I miss them. Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I’d stayed with my father, done as he wished and married his business rival. In our world, I would most certainly have been given a family, and that’s something I can’t deny I want. No doubt I would have had to share my husband with a half dozen mistresses, but honestly that might not have been such a bad thing. I would never have loved that man, so at least I wouldn’t have had to please him all the time.