Page 42 of Equilibrium
“Sorry, man.”
I should’ve been irked because he was trying to help me. After all, for most of my life I’ve been alone, independent; I-didn’t-need-anybody shit. But I allowed him to pull me up, to place his hand on the small of my back and guide me toward his bike.
I half-heartedly waved at Atlas, who once again sported a grin directed at us. My eyes landed on Indigo who observed us quietly, moving from my face to the place where Storm’s hand connected with my back, and I honestly had no idea what his problem was.
I mean, I wasn’t a fairy godmother, but I liked to think that I had some qualities that didn’t involve only murder and mayhem. If people hated me, it was mostly because I did something to them, and I definitely didn’t do anything to Indigo. He didn’t even know me, and if the sneer on his face was any indication, he already didn’t like me. Standing so close to Atlas, I could see the differences between the two.
Where Atlas was light, with his blond hair, smiling face, and tall, lean body, Indigo was dark—blue-black hair, dark piercing eyes, and an amount of tattoos that rivaled Storm’s. I had a feeling he could throw me around like a ragdoll, considering that his biceps were the size of my head.
But the funniest thing of them all, was the way he naturally gravitated toward Atlas. I wasn’t sure if he even noticed it. I hadn’t seen Atlas reacting to him in any way, but where there’s smoke, there’s also fire, and something tells me that these two would be good together.
What with that whole opposites attract bullshit.
Wait, scratch that. Opposites obviously weren’t the best fit every single time because look what has happened to Kieran and me. No, nope on a rope.
Oh, what the fuck. It wasn’t like I could stay here and watch how the little secret glances Indigo was throwing at Atlas would unfold. I had to stay focused and think about a way to get away from here. Maybe heal first and try not to kill Storm.
And not in that particular order.
I cleared my head from the thoughts that started taking place and focused on where we were going. As soon as we got to the sleek Harley Davidson coated in black, Storm took a helmet he definitely wasn’t wearing earlier and turned to me.
“Na-uh.” I shook my head. “I won’t be wearing that.”
I wasn’t wearing one when we came here, and I didn’t want to wear one now.
“Ophelia—”
“Nobody else wore them,” I argued. Did I sound like a petulant child? Most probably, yes. But I honestly didn’t want to wear one, and he couldn’t force me.
Storm closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The groan that erupted from his mouth would’ve been funny if it wasn’t for the scathing look he sent my way. I placed my hands on my hips, wincing from the pain that erupted from my right hand. He looked at my swollen finger than at my face.
“The doctor will be here tomorrow to have a look at that finger.”
“I’m fine.”
“This is not up for discussion. I’m not sure if it’s broken or dislocated, but it doesn’t look good. When did it happen?” I really, and I mean really, hated this caring side of him.
“A couple of days ago,” I murmured. “Just before we came to the church.”
Standing this close to him, I could see the tiny yellow freckles around his irises, and I realized that his eyes weren’t as completely green as I initially thought they were. It wasn’t like I had enough time four years ago to think about the color of his eyes, but now I did.
“That’s not good, Sunshine.” His finger trailed over my right arm as he took a step closer. “I really am sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I shrugged. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Hmm,” he grunted as he lifted the helmet again. “Ophelia,” he started again, his voice barely above a whisper and it did something to my insides. The pleading look in his eyes almost broke me down, but I seriously didn’t want to wear that fucking thing. “Humor me. Please?”
Those three words shouldn’t have meant anything, but they did. He wasn’t ordering me around. He wasn’t telling me what to do, even though it seemed that way at first. I had to shut my inner bitch up and put on big girl pants. If he was concerned about my safety and wanted me to wear it, why was I being a bitch about it?
Because you hate being told what to do.
Oh, shut the fuck up. Okay, yes, I did hate it when people, especially men, told me what to do, but it wasn’t like he was asking me to commit a murder. Though, I would probably agree to that much faster than to the bloody helmet he was holding.
“Fine,” I huffed after a minute too long, taking the shiny thing from his hands. His cheek twitched and I knew, I just fucking knew he was moments from smiling, and I wanted to see it. He almost never smiled, and for some inexplicable reason, I really wanted to see it directed at me.
When was the last time somebody genuinely smiled at me?
Ava, maybe? So when his lips pulled apart, revealing the line of bright white teeth, softly crooked to the side, I almost combusted on the spot. He needed to get a permit for carrying that thing becauseholy fucking shit. My mouth was agape, staring at the little dimple that showed on his right cheek.
