Free That Girl by H.J. Bellus

can’t and won’t. “I can’t.”
    “Can I walk you to your car?”
    I snort at his insinuation of me owning a car, much less having a driver’s license. I wonder how long it would take him to run if he knew that little fact. I never want to see the look on his beautiful face when he learns where I’m from and what I’ve been through, and the only way to guarantee it will never happen is to never get close.
    I start to speak and realize he is rubbing the burn scars on my palm, and I instantly cringe.
    “I gotta go,” I say, standing and trying to gather all my belongings, steadying my feet to run.
    My feet along with my legs have been trained to run. They find the pace of a beating heart and go, fleeing from all emotions.
    “Jodie, I mean Oakley, your wrist needs to be looked at. My uncle is a doctor.”
    “No. Bye, Lincoln.”
    Taking the first step into the lit-up lot, I look back and see Lincoln standing on the sidewalk with his hands perched on the back of his head, just watching me. I quicken my pace to erase the sight of him. Vanish the feel of his hand on mine, make the sight of his bloody knuckles disappear, and most of all to make all my feelings for him evaporate into thin air.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    Really lost at 1,014 Miles
     
    I throw my burger on the dented dresser in my room, flop down on the bed, and beat myself up. I scold myself for feeling what I felt tonight, for reacting to his touch, for feeling proud as hell when he stood up for me. Only two people have ever stood up for me, Jazzy and Old Man.
    His smell. Dear lord, the scent turned me on. When we were sitting on the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but smell him. It took everything inside me to not lean down and straight out sniff his bare shoulder.
    Looking back, everything was a complete clusterfuck tonight. From the fight, to Lincoln’s bloody knuckles, our reactions to each other, his admission to trying to find me, and the awkward touching on the curb. Any normal girl would have leaned on him, asked about his day, maybe asked what position he played, his last name, where he’s from, or any normal fucking question. Nope, not me. I played it completely awkward and a little cowardly.
    Hell, if it had been Jenni, she probably would’ve been spread-eagle on that curb trying to make babies with him already. I guarantee a sexy-ass football player like Lincoln wants just that, a girl to spread for him and be his little arm candy. At least, that’s what I’ll try like hell to convince myself. It may take days or weeks to imprint it in my mind. His actions and scent may be two things I’ll never get over.
    No energy or motivation to shower tonight, I will myself to drift off with a certain blue-eyed brunette on my mind.
     
    ***
     
    I work all morning at the coffee shop, praying the next customer would be that blue-eyed brunette who dominated my dreams and every thought since waking up. It’s not that I want a relationship, but the fact he stood up for me has replayed over and over in my brain and heart. That single act meant more to me than anything else. The man didn’t even know me and stood up for me. Then when he was waiting for me outside, it made me hopeful. He wanted to walk me to my car, and that’s when reality struck. I’m not his type, but still every engine I hear pull up to the hut, I hope it’s a truck with a certain somebody smiling back at me.
    No special coffee customer. Then my obsession turned into a doughnut customer. He did mention stopping in for a doughnut if I wasn’t at the coffee shop, but Jenni is working a couple hours to fill in there. I’m sure if he came by, she’d probably trample the poor man.
    I talked to her a little bit when she came into the bakery before her short stint at the coffee shop. You’d think it was killing her to work for two whole hours. She complained on and on about her back hurting, and then how she tried a new hair color and it didn’t quite