Fall in Love

by Anthology

  “Mia was being chased when she called me. That’s what she told me and I could hear her breathing hard. She told me where she was and then I couldn’t hear her. I didn’t wait around—I headed out to find her. I was in the University Center.”

  “Did you call 911?”

  “I should have done, but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried about her. I had my car in the University Center parking lot and I drove toward the science building. I parked it and started searching, then I heard Mia scream. They were in the ravine, behind the bushes. If she hadn’t cried out, I might not have found them.”

  “So you ran in, unarmed.”

  “I was scared for Mia. Again, I didn’t think.”

  I add, “The guy had a knife and swiped at Jonathon with it. But Jonathon grabbed the guy’s arm and did something that made him drop it. They fought. I guess Jonathon knows martial arts, because he did some kind of judo throw on the guy, tossed him over his shoulder, and got him pinned—” I break off. “Sorry.” I squirm a bit, even though everyone is looking at me, listening patiently, and not saying anything. “It’s supposed to be his statement. I got carried away.”

  Jonathon takes my hand and holds it. It does make me feel comforted. Safer. Not alone. Or maybe it’s because I’m thinking about how warm and strong his hand is, and how maybe I shouldn’t be holding it, so I’m not focusing on the attack.

  Should I not hold hands with him? It makes us look like boyfriend and girlfriend, and we’re not.

  But Jonathon is holding my hand tight and I don’t think he has any intention of letting me go.

  When he finishes his statement, he runs his hand through his black hair, which is almost dry and hangs down over his forehead. “Thank God I was at the University Center and so close by. I could kick myself. You told me about the emails and I should have taken more precautions.”

  I hadn’t told him about the picture under the door. I’d just taken that to security. Now I feel like an idiot for not having been more open.

  The cops get up. One talks into a radio, the other thanks us for our statements. I don’t say anything. I mean, I assume they are going to try to catch the guy, but there was so little I could tell them. I did point out that Campus security had the print out of the photo on file, for possible fingerprints.

  Once the cops leave, I realize Jonathon is watching me. There’s pain in his green eyes.

  “Does your head hurt?”

  “A bit. They gave me painkillers. And a prescription for more. But that’s not it. I realize I could have—” He breaks off.

  “You could have been killed,” I say, and panic is whirling around in me again. My throat suddenly feels too tight and I can’t speak. Next thing I know, tears are burning tracks down my cheeks.

  “I could have lost you.” Suddenly Jonathon pulls me to him and kisses me.

  ***

  His lips are hot against mine and surprisingly gentle, and they move over mine in a way that feels almost magical.

  Oh no, wait—

  He pulls back and I do at the same time. His eyes are wide and he looks rueful. “I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t think. I can’t do that, since you belong to another guy.”

  “It’s okay,” I say miserably. Did I let the kiss go too far? I was surprised, but I feel I should have jerked back faster. Like instantaneously. I feel I’ve betrayed Ryan somehow.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Jonathon says. “I was just so scared that—that things could have gone differently tonight.”

  I realize he is trying to avoid saying the obvious—that I could have been raped, maybe killed. I guess he’s doing it to spare my feelings, to keep me from thinking about it.

  “I hope I haven’t made things awkward between us,” he begins, his tone low and deep.

  “You saved my life! I don’t even know how to begin to repay you.”

  “You don’t repay someone for that.” His voice is filled with soft kindness. I remember how I bugged him about his bondage room and his club, and I feel guilty. At his core, Jonathon is like Ryan, I believe. A really decent, stand up, great guy.

  He crosses the room, grabs some paper towel from a dispenser, frowns at it and brings it back for me. “For your tears. Not great, but the best we’ve got in here.”

  I smile. “I’m okay,” I say.

  But now what do I do? I should go back to the dorm and see Lara. But I’m freaked out about being in the room when the stalker hasn’t been caught. “I really don’t want to sleep there tonight, but I should. I don’t want Lara to be there alone.” I put my hand to my mouth. “She doesn’t even know what happened.”

  “Stay at my house tonight. Both of you can stay. I’ve got a dozen bedrooms in the place.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. I got you hurt.”

  He puts his arms around me. At first, I get tense, then I realize this is meant to be friendly and tender, not sexual.

  “This is not your fault, Mia. You aren’t responsible for what that bastard decided to do. It’s no trouble to have you at my house. I have a staff, remember? I’d feel better if you were there, both of you.”

  The doctor warned us about the symptoms of a concussion. If Jonathon felt dizzy, nauseous, had problems with his vision, he was to go back to emergency at once. Spending the night with him is probably a good idea, so I can keep an eye on him. Having Lara there makes it completely innocent.

  “Are you going to be my guest tonight? You can stay longer too, if you want to. As long as you wish.”

  It’s tempting, because I’m really sick at the thought of going back to the dorm. How will I feel safe? “I have projects to get finished. And—”

  “Don’t worry about that.” He looks shocked. “I will speak to your professors. I’ll take care of that for you.”

  “I guess I should speak to them—”

  “You’ve had a traumatic experience. Let me talk to them. My father has put money into the Yardley campus—they’ll listen.”

  He’s been through as much as me, yet he’s telling me to lean on him, that he’ll take care of me. It’s incredibly sweet.

  I suddenly think of something else. “My mother.” The cops didn’t call her. Since I’m nineteen and I wasn’t assaulted, I didn’t need to have her talk to them. But I will have to tell her about this.

  And Ryan.

  God, I can’t tell Ryan. He would freak out if he thought I was in danger.

  Am I still in danger?

  Jonathon gets off the gurney. “We’ll get you to my place. You can have a hot shower and go to bed. I’ll keep my distance, Mia, so don’t worry. I really care about you, but I respect that you love another man.”

  ***

  Jonathon suggests I talk to my mother via Skype so she can see I’m all right except for the two cuts on my face. I have to admit I can’t do that. The only computer we had at our house was mine. It’s at the dorm, obviously, not at home. So I call her.

  I want to call her right away even before I take a bath. At the front door, there is a huge mirror in a silver frame, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. Gah! My hair is muddy and tangled, I have tape running over my jaw, and my forehead is dirty—they scrubbed off the places that needed attention at the hospital. The tape is supposed to stand up to some bathing, but I remember the nurse advising me against a shower.

  Jonathon sends a maid to run a bath for me. Really, like in a historical romance.

  I call Mom. Feeling guilty and awful, I croak into the phone, “Hi Mom. I’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of bad, but it turned out okay.” At least for now. Jonathon and Lara left me in here alone for privacy. It’s a kind of drawing room, which is filled with sumptuous, comfortable chairs, and has a phone. Lara went upstairs to get changed into pyjamas, since she changed out of them to pack a few things and come here.

  I kind of wish I had someone around. Not because I’m scared, but to step in with advice. I have no idea how to tell my mom something like this.
/>   “Mom, I didn’t tell you everything that happened at Yardley this term.” My throat feels achy.

  Do not cry, I tell myself. I have to talk to her. Blubbering will just scare her.

  “Is something wrong, Mia?” Her speech has slowed and lost the cheerfulness with which she said hi.

  “It’s okay. I’m not hurt or anything. Well, not badly. I have a couple of cuts, but—”

  “Mia, what’s happened?”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “At the beginning. Just start there and tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. I won’t be angry, I promise.”

  I bite my lip. She may be angry; she’ll definitely be scared. “Okay. I guess it started with an email I received from someone I didn’t know…” I go from there, and tell her about the messages, the picture under the door, and how I took everything to campus security.

  She doesn’t say anything, but I can hear her breathing. It’s strange and shallow, like she’s in shock. Now I have to give her the worst news. “I was walking back from studio to my room—”

  “Alone? Oh God, at night? Mia—” She stops. “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything. Please, just tell me.” Then, in a very small voice, “Are you all right?”

  “I am, mom. I promise. The guy followed me. At least I assume it’s the same guy. He grabbed me and pulled me behind some bushes. He had a knife and he was going to—to sexually assault me. But my friend Jonathon stopped him. Jonathon kicked him off me, did this incredible judo throw and had the guy pinned. He did until he was almost stabbed. The guy got away.”

  I’m panting when I finish. I threw it all out without stopping for breath.

  “Mia, I want to come up there.”

  “Mom, you can’t. You can never get time off from the diner.”

  “I don’t care.” She sounds steely, but as if she could fracture. “I have to see you.”

  “It’s not necessary. I’m okay.”

  “You should come home.”

  Oh God. “I can’t. I have projects to finish. They’re due in a few days and I don’t have time to come home.”

  Footsteps sound behind me. I jump around, holding the phone, my heart in my throat. The person behind me is Jonathon, of course. He carries a glass of white wine and he holds it out to me.

  “Just a sec, mom,” I say.

  “Just a sec?” she echoes in shock. “What do you mean, ‘just a second’?”

  “I just have to talk to someone.” I put my hand over the receiver. “She wants to come here. She can’t afford it, and I’m terrified she’ll lose her job if she does.”

  Jonathon takes the phone from me and gives me the wine. “I’ll deal.”

  He introduces himself to my mother and explains to her that I’m okay, and that he intends to watch over me at all times until the guy is caught. He also tells her that if she has any trouble getting away from her job, to let him know, and he will take care of it.

  When I get back on, she says, “What does he mean that he will take care of it? Who is he, Mia?”

  “His father is very wealthy and influential. I think that’s what he means.”

  She tells me she will come up in a couple of days and stay at an inn in the village. I know she would feel better to see me.

  But just before I hang up, I warn her, “Don’t tell Ryan what happened. Please. It will only make him worry. Or he might do something crazy too. Like come up here and get in trouble with his school.”

  She’s reluctant. But she agrees to keep my secret.

  As I hang up, I’m thinking about Ryan and what I should do. But I’m also thinking about what Jonathon said.

  I really care about you.

  Chapter Ten

  Rain splatters on my face. Lightning flashes over me. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs but no sound comes out. I’m fighting to move, but I can’t. Something’s holding me by my arms and I can’t break free—

  The guy in the mask shoves me down on the ground. He’s pulling my jeans off, tearing at them with claw-like hands. Laughing at me. His breath smells foul and I’m choking on it. I’m lying on the wet, freezing cold ground, desperately trying to cover my bare breasts so he can’t look at them, and he hauls my legs apart.

  I scream and scream but this time no one will find me. This time I did something stupid and I let this guy get me and take me away—

  I scream and kick wildly. My eyes open and I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom at Jonathon’s house, tangling my feet in the covers.

  Oh God, it was just a dream. I’m perfectly safe.

  Not really safe—since the guy is still out there.

  There’s a soft knock at the door. “Mia, are you all right?”

  “Come in.” My voice trembles. I just need someone with me. I need to know, for sure, that I am awake now. That being in Jonathon’s house and being safe isn’t the dream, and I’m not really in danger.

  Soft light plays on the walls, quaintly wall-papered with bouquets of roses. This is a girl’s room, with a four-poster bed, a dainty vanity table. It’s a huge room too, with a writing desk, and dainty chairs, and it looks like a room that Mr. Darcy’s younger sister might have used at Pemberley, in Pride and Prejudice.

  The door opens and Jonathon comes in. This is the first time I’ve seen him in sweats. He’s wearing faded grey ones, and when he steps in, the golden light caresses the lines of his face.

  “There’s a nightlight.” I just realized a small light clipped in the outlet is responsible for the soft glow that lets me see him. “I didn’t think one was there when I went to bed.”

  Jonathon leans against the door, and says softly, “There wasn’t. I’d forgotten about it. I realized you wouldn’t want to wake up to darkness.”

  Wow. My heart makes a skittering sensation. That was so sweet of him.

  I really care about you.

  I gaze into his green eyes, realizing how wrong and how prejudiced I was about him.

  That night in September when I saw his BDSM room, I judged him. I thought he was a rich guy who was used to getting what he wanted and hurt women carelessly. I thought the same thing when we were at his club and I met Crystal, although that didn’t correlate with the kind of guy he was with me.

  Now, I think I’ve seen the real Jonathon Powell.

  He said he respected that I love another man. Jonathon Powell can’t be experiencing unrequited love for me, can he?

  If he is, I don’t want to hurt him. He’s been one of the kindest, most amazing friends I’ve ever had. But is he my friend because he still hopes it will lead to something more?

  I start to feel kind of sick. Guilty. Confused. And if I weren’t for Jonathon, I’d be lying cut up in the ravine, feeling all my blood drain out of me—

  Oh God. If it weren’t for him, I would have died. What would it have been like? Pleading for my life. Crying for help? Fighting to not give in? Or by then, would I have wanted to give in to death because I didn’t want to be alive anymore?

  My throat burns, my eyes feel like they’re full of sand. Then everything bursts. Tears wash down my face. They come and come and I can’t stop them.

  Jonathon is across the room in an instant and the bed dips with his weight and he pulls me against him. Sitting on the edge of my bed, he puts his arms around me. I shouldn’t cry against him. This isn’t fair to him. I’m alive. I survived. None of that stuff happened.

  But I’m crying as if it’s about to happen—as if I’m back there, in the ravine, realizing I’m going to know the torture of having this guy inside me; I’m going to be dead—

  Anger swamps me. The tears keep flowing and I’m blubbering and gasping for breath, but inside, a crackling rage is building.

  “It’s okay,” Jonathon soothes. His hands move slowly over my back, stoking me gently. My head is pressed to his grey sweatshirt, and his heart thumps under my cheek.

  It’s not okay. Not. Okay.

  The rage is snapping in me like a torn-down hydr
o wire, arcing on the road. I pull away from him. It’s not fair. Not fair. God, why does every creep in the universe want to hurt me?

  “I didn’t do anything,” I rage. “I don’t even know who this guy is. It isn’t like I encouraged him.” Fury boils in me. It’s like with my stepfather—I didn’t ask him to do things to me. I didn’t want to do it. I hated it. But I’m supposed to feel bad about it for the rest of my life.

  Anger builds and builds, until it feels like the top of my head will blow off.

  I scramble off the bed. Grab one of the pillows and throw it across the room. Do I deserve to have someone care about me? Don’t I deserve to die in a freaking ditch, because I’m too weak to fight for myself?

  I tear at my hair. When I slap myself, Jonathon is in front of me and he takes hold of my hands. He holds them away from me. I’m about to scream or pull away, but I can’t get free and he makes me stand still. He’s tall enough, strong enough, to take charge of me. I’m shaking.

  He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me, meeting my gaze, his chest heaving under his sweatshirt. I look away because I can’t look into his eyes anymore.

  “You must think I’m insane,” I mumble.

  “No, I don’t. You’re angry.”

  “No, I am crazy.” I have to admit it. I can’t hide it anymore. “I get like this. I burst into tears and I get furious for no reason.”

  “Mia, love, you have a very good reason.”

  “I’ve done it before tonight. I do it all the time. I’m okay for a while and then I can’t control it. I do everything wrong. I stand on my pride at the wrong time, and sacrifice it totally when I shouldn’t.”

  “I understand how you feel, Mia.”

  He’s being nice, but I still feel angry. For some reason, I’m annoyed that he’s not shocked, that he’s not judging me, and he’s saying I’m okay. Because I’m not.

  “You understand? How could you? I get worse than this.”

  “I do because I’ve been there.”