Wicked Things by Yolanda Olson
Hollis
Against my better judgment,I finally gave in and followed Bates to his car.
I knew I wouldn’t tell him where I lived since it was the only place I had in this world where I couldn’t be misjudged for being myself, and I didn’t want to share that with an almost stranger.
As he started his car, I pulled the seatbelt across my shoulder and secured it, then paused when I noticed his hand.
It was palm up and expectant.
“Maybe pick a gear first?” I suggested with a small smile.
Bates laughed as he put the car in drive, pulled out into the road, then laid his hand down between us again.
I gingerly dropped my palm against his, trying to fight the shuddering feeling that threatened to shake my body as he gently ran his thumb over the top of my hand.
“I have to tell you something,” I said as he pulled up to a red light a block away from the bar.
If he took what I had to say the same way as everyone else, at least if I had to jump out of his car here, I’d somewhat know where I was.
“Tell me,” he said as he glanced over at me with a smile.
“Can you let go of my hand first?”
“I could, but I’m going to just hold it again so maybe let’s leave it where it is?” he teased with a laugh.
How do I tell him? He seems so genuinely kind.
“Bates,” I began slowly. “What I’m going to say may shock you and make you angry, but please don’t hit me. If you – I’d be glad to get out of the car and disappear. I just can’t take another beating so soon.”
The light on the dashboard shown faint green, but he didn’t press on the gas.
Instead, he watched me with curious eyes and even put the car in park, pressing the blinkers to let people know to go around us.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
My body began to shake so violently that I was afraid I would end up vomiting all over the interior of his car.
I’d had such a nice evening sitting and talking to him, and now that was going to end.
I only hoped that I’d be able to physically walk away from this.
“Hollis?” he pressed softly.
“Okay, you asked me what I meant when I said that God fucked up…”
Bates didn’t say anything as he went back to using his thumb to rub the top of my hand again.
“Well …” I continued nervously as I used my spare hand to reach down. I held on tightly to the hem of my skirt and cleared my throat nervously.
I could tell him, I could show him, or I could let him feel for himself.
With a trembling lower lip, I look into his eyes again and pull my skirt high enough to show him how badly God had messed up when it came to me.
