I blink three times, wondering if that blow to my back is affecting my vision.
She’s gone.
I turn my attention back to the two would-be robbers lying in a pile of their own broken bones, clearly not going anywhere anytime soon.
“If either of you even think of so much as looking at her, or any woman, let alone trying to rob them, I swear I will track you down and break the rest of your bones…one by one. And I won’t do it quickly.”
But quickly is exactly how I get to my feet, taking off in a dead sprint toward our apartments, needing to make sure she made it home safe.
She’s my responsibility, my angel, my princess, my everything…whether she knows it or not.
2
Diana
I slam the deadbolt shut and fumble for the knife underneath my DVD of Beauty and the Beast that sits on the small end table just next to my door.
Taking three steps back from the door I wait, trying to get my breathing to slow as my heart continues to slam against my ribcage.
My training says I need to leave space in case the door comes flying open. Last thing any would-be victim wants is their attacker knocking them unconscious before the victim even has a chance to fight off a perpetrator.
The thoughts in my head, my choice of words, make it sound like I’ve been reading law or self-defense books every waking minute I’m not at work.
And that’s pretty much true these days, although work occupies nearly all the hours in the day I’m able to keep my eyes open, not that I’m complaining one bit. It’s better than the alternative, better than what I used to know, how my life used to be.
The new normal is tough, but it’s worlds easier than the past.
A slight noise shoots through the air in the hallway outside my door, and I give the handle of my knife a death grip, but seconds later I hear the door next to mine quietly fall into its door jam, accompanied by the sound of a lock snapping into place and everything goes still.
I knew it! It was him.
Him being the man from next door.
The very tall, very attractive man with the complete lack of expression on his face at all times. The same man who’s been coming into my diner each and every day, three times a day, and ordering the same thing.
And always sitting in the section that’s not mine, yet seemingly always focused on my section.
I feel like I’ve stepped out of the frying pan and into the fire. I was starting to think he was watching me and it was time to high tail it outta town again, ready to give my notice in the morning. A situation which was only expedited by what happened in the alley tonight…before he came to my rescue.
If this man was dangerous, or here for some nefarious reason, why would he have risked his own life to be my protector?
It makes no sense.
In a moment’s notice he’s gone from being the stalker next door to the savior in unit 3B.
The man with the kind of muscles that could easily snatch me up off the street, throw me over his shoulder and carry me back to his place to cut me up in pieces and stick me in the fridge.
But no. He used those same muscles, those same thick shoulders and upper body that taper into a V-shape to a very toned and powerful trunk, to throw punches at the men who were about to attack me. Men who had weapons my hero didn’t.
Why would he risk his life for a girl he’s never spoken to, let alone made eye contact with, in a neighborhood where it’s clear that you keep your head down and mind your own business, before you get ‘the business’ yourself?
There are men in life who are gentlemen, who hold the door open for you and tell you you look nice, leave thoughtful tips at the diner…things like that.
Then there are men who are gentlemen in a different way. Men who certainly aren’t the definition of a gentleman by the way they dress, the way they look or the roughness of their calloused hands, but are gentleman in a way that the other type couldn’t even hope to be.
The latter of the two being real men. Throwbacks to a different time, and maybe that’s what it is right there. He’s older, more mature, and never seems to care about impressing anyone.
His tips are the standard twenty percent, not more and not less. His clothes are clean, fit well, and well cared for. They don’t scream money nor are they plastered with brand names or logos.