Embarrassment and shame flooded Mila's face. This had to be the worst way to get to know someone. "Unfortunately." She said bitterly, staring at Baylee defiantly, prepared for the judgement that followed the implication that she had just made. It was obvious that she was no 'good Christian girl'. Her life choices were certainly coming to bite her in the ass tonight.
Sighing, Mila unlocked her car and dumped her bag in the front seat. "No need to worry about it. I'll sleep here tonight. Call a tow in the morning, and all that. This isn't my first rodeo." It took her a second to realize what she had said. "Flat tires in the middle of the night I mean–not crazy, tire slashing exes." Mila rubbed her forehead, eyes closing in distress. God, what must he think of her?
Baylee's face showed no reaction. He wasn't raised in a Christian household, so the thought of her having sex before getting married didn't bother him at all. The only thing that he would judge her on was her bad choice in men, but he was fairly certain the Jacob guy wasn't a complete nutcase when they first met.
"No, this isn't a safe place," he insisted, leaning against the side of the car. "Gangs, criminals, robbers, and people that would take complete advantage of finding a girl sleeping in a car by herself. You can have my bed. I'll jus' sleep on the couch. Besides, I already put your shit in my truck."
"Oh no no no–No. I couldn't inconvenience you like that!" Mila shock her head, brows coming down over her eyes in a soft frown. "You deserve to sleep in your own bed, and not worry about all this nonsense." A casual, vague wave of her hand that suggested that she was the nonsense. It was true that he had put her amps in his truck, glancing over at the items in question, they looked oddly at home amongst the rest of his things. Traitorous bastards. "I'm a tough cookie remember?" She added on after a long second of him just staring at her. This time the words come out with zero confidence and petered off into an awkward grin that would have convinced no one.
"Yeah, well, this part of town is where cookies get crumbled. It ain't safe. We'll come back here in the morning an' get some new tires on your car." On cue, a truck with about 5 guys sitting in the bed tolled past, all of them looking intently at the two of them. Baylee glared at them, then turned to Mila. "Gimme a second. Lock your doors while your at it."
The trucked rolled into the parking lot as Baylee pushed off of the small hatchback and walked toward his truck. He began rummaging through the bed just as two of the guys in the back jumped out. They were both skinny and shirtless, despite the cold weather, showing off the countless tattoos they had between them. They approached Baylee with almost evil grins on their face until he found what he was looking for and pointed at the two.
He held the pump-action shotgun at his hip, his face calm and collected as the two looked back at the truck with terrified looks on their face.
"Step the fuck off," Baylee said, cocking the shotgun for dramatic effect.
Needless to say, the two ran back to the truck and jumped back into the bed, the truck itself racing off as fast as the driver could without knocking his friends out of the back.
As soon as the truck zoomed off, Mila was standing next to Baylee, bag at her hip and frowning at the taillights vanishing down the highway. Her car beeped as she locked it. "Alright, alright. I'm coming. You can put the boomstick back where it came from, Rambo." She gave him her cheeky grin, an easy way of showing him that she wasn't the least bit frightened. In fact, her blue gaze glittered a bit too mischievously. A lady, but also an adrenaline junkie it seemed.
Without another word, she breezed over to the passenger seat and climbed in. "Can't blame me for being hesitant," Mila started as she watched Baylee get in as she clicked her belt secure. "Serial killers do love small towns." She said as a way of explanation to his curious look, shrugging nonchalantly.
"There ain't nothin' like that around here," he said, buckling up as well before pulling out his key. There was nothing on the key ring other than the key itself, a reflection of his personality in a way. "The odd gang like the one ya just saw, sure, but most of 'em will run at the sight of Ol' Bess. If not, well….." he trailed off.
Baylee shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine purred to life smoothly, which wasn't what one would expect from something so beat up. "I have a garage, so we can leave the amps and shit in the back."
Mila couldn't help a chuckle. "There could be now." She dragged the last word out for a few seconds and added the effect of 'spooky fingers'–wiggling them like an ominous ghost–to her statement. She was referring to herself of course, but the possibility of her being a serial killer hopping from town to town was so ridiculous that she had to stop to laugh about halfway through her performance. Mila may have been acting a little weird to disguise the fact that she was, very suddenly, quite anxious. "Thank you for this, Baylee." She added softly, looking out the window at the darkness.
"I couldn't jus' leave you out there, búp bê," Baylee said, glancing over at his passenger. Even with the cut on her lip, she was gorgeous. Her eyes were somehow still bright as day in the reflection off of the windshield, and her hair kept its glossy glow even after the night she's had. Christ, how had he not noticed her before?
When she turned and they made eye contact, he realized that he'd been staring. A blush, although a very slight one, rose to his cheeks as he turned back to the road, looking abut as awkward as she'd ever seen him. Which wasn't very.
"I crash on the couch most nights, anyways, so you won't be messin' with my night if you take my bed," he said, referencing the statement she'd made previously. "Which is what you'll be doing."
He'd been keeping an eye on her just incase she was serious about attacking him. That's why he'd been staring at her. Not for any other reason. Of course not. Why would he? Mila was effectively a stray kitten that he'd scooped up out of pity. It would have been nice to think that he was looking at her because he thought she was pretty. Nice indeed. Mila bit her lip as she looked away, cringing harshly against the pain it caused. She raised her hand to her lips to make sure she wasn't bleeding again just as he spoke.
"I will do no such thing! Honestly, Baylee. You're doing so much for me already." Mila shifted in her seat, so she was facing him more. Her features sliding into a full pout. "I'll be okay on your couch. Seriously. I would feel so bad." She should have stayed at her car, but the thrill of seeing him protect her as he'd done had put her heart first while her brain sputtered. But now? Ugh–no way was she going to mooch him out of his own bed.
"You are my guest, and you will sleep in my bed just as everyone else has," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. It was a tone he reserved for people who had drank too much that night and were attempting to buy more, but she was being so damn stubborn that he figured that was the only way she'd listen. The double meaning in his words was lost by his frustration. "Is it this hard for everyone to be nice to you, or is this something you've reserved just for me?"
"N–nice??" Mila sputtered, all her bravado dying out in a split second. He sounded so stern and to be honest with herself, she saw no way in which she was going to win this. Baylee was fully capable of picking her up and tossing her onto his bed, if that's what it took. She tugged on the end of her braid, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to figure out what to say. 'Thank you.' didn't seem like enough. "I'm not used to people taking care of me. Or being nice." Mila finally said, her voice cracking lightly with the honesty.
"Maybe you jus' don't let 'em," he said, turning his blinker on and turning into a neighborhood. It was a small, clam-looking place, with simple one-story homes with garages. The streets were surprisingly clean, as well. "All that silly 'tough cookie' shit you talk about makes it seem like you never want any." Was he being a bit harsh? Maybe. But he was nothing but honest.
He turned into the 5th driveway on the right-hand side, driving right up to the door of the garage and parking. After unbuckling, he climbed out of the car and pulled out another key, this one much smaller. He inserted it into the handle of the garage, twisting it and pushing the garage door open at the same time, slipping the key out of the lock in one smooth motion.
"It's alright to accept help when you need it," he said, slipping back into the driver's seat and shutting the door. Hypocritical? To a T.
(Ack, don't respond. I pressed enter too early)
"I'm here aren't I?" Mila said as Baylee pulled them into the garage, sounding much, much more vulnerable than she intended. Which made her a little angry. She wasn't some little girl to 'save'. She could handle herself, no matter how much her tough cookie routine annoyed him. "It's not that I don't let them. It's that no one's ever willingly signed up for the job." Too much. Too much information. Shut your mouth, woman. And she did, thoroughly biting her lip again. *That * was a can of worms that did not need to be opened. Ever.
Instead of waiting for Baylee to respond, Mila slid out of his truck and shut the door, moving slightly to the side so he wouldn't see her leaning up against it. Somehow she could still feel his eyes studying her. "Stupid." She muttered to herself. She took a deep breath, the musty garage smell making her nose tickle. A sneeze threatened and she covered her mouth as she moved back towards the front of the truck. Her warmth breath eased the frosty bit of the night air.
"I don't mean to be rude," he mumbled as he walked over to the door inside of the garages. Baylee's voice was….gentle. Sweet, even. He could tell his words had a different affect on her than he anticipated, and he couldn't help but feel bad. "I just…this isn't somethin' I usually do, y'know? A little out of my comfort zone."
He fished out the same key that he used to unlock the garage and slipped it into the deadbolt, unlocking the door with a bit of jimmying.
"I can go get you some clothes from the little corner store down the street if you need 'em," he offered as he pushed the door open.
Mila chuckled, following Baylee into his home. "You and me both." She said lightly, a slight smile making the last few minutes of awkwardness a little joke between the two of them. It was warm enough so that she was able to relax a little, but she still unconsciously huddled close to Baylee, unsure of her surroundings. Blinking against the darkness, Mila patted her duffle. "No need! I should have some comfy clothes in here."
A light flicked on, revealing the room. Neat and tidy, Mila was standing towards the edge of his living room with a kitchen just beyond. She took a few steps further in, toeing her boots so one slipped off and then the other before she stepped onto his carpet. With a gentle sweep of a purple socked foot, her boots were neatly pushed out of the way. Mila was incredibly curious, leaning this way and that, but remained by Baylee. She figured it was rude to pry. She did make a soft noise of approval though, right before she realized that they were alone.
"My room's thataway," Baylee said, gesturing to a door on their left, "Living room's straight ahead, same with the kitchen, and to your right is the bathroom without the shower."
He, of course, didn't even notice the fact. Alone, with 20 people, his facial expressions, body language, and attitude didn't change. Well…that is, until Mila came around. Yeah, sure, he was alone with her, but he wasn't the type of person to take advantage of that fact. He was going to give her as much space as she wanted and see that she was as comfortable as he could possibly make her. Gentleman shit.
"The fridge is open if you get hungry," he continued, choosing to keep his shoes on as he walked for the living room. There were three things in the open space: A wall mounted TV, a recliner directly in front of it, and a love seat on the wall to the left of the screen. Neat and orderly, as always with Baylee. "And other than that, you're free to roam."
She nodded along, eyes bright, unconsciously following him as he stepped through his house. Mila didn't notice until she walked smack into Baylee, her entire front bumping into his side as he turned to look at her, probably wondering why she was following him. "Crap–uh sorry." She reached up to rub her forehead, the spot where she'd hit it against his shoulder a bit pink. It matched the blush working it's way up her face from her chest and neck.
"I'll go change." She said, about facing and marching back to the door he indicated as him room. It was as tidy and sparse as the rest of the home. A bed against one wall–the one she was to sleep in. Mila had to admit that it did look cozy. Two doors lined the other wall, closet and other bathroom she assumed. Shucking her jacket, she dropped her duffle on the bed. Mila took a moment to collect her thoughts, stressing about her stupid car, and about what other stupid antics she could expect from stupid Jacob. She kept her thoughts firmly away from the man she could hear moving about in the other room.
It was all of a minute before she realized that her duffle–her trusty duffle–was empty of her spare clothes. "Of all the tings to forget on laundry day, Mila." She chastised herself, pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Oh well, she supposed that she could sleep in her jeans and tshirt, despite the fact that they reeked of bar–alcohol and stale cigarette smoke. "Ugh." Mila moaned, uncovering her eyes. Her gaze landed on what she assumed was the closet door and a thought slid into her mind. He wouldn't mind…would he? He had offered to get her clothes, what about borrowing them? Better to ask forgiveness than permission, Mila figured as she strode through the thin door.
About five minutes later, Mila emerged from Baylee's room, clad in a rather large black tshirt. It could of passed as a dress on her, but she still tugged on the hem that tickled her bare thighs as she stepped back into the living room. "I–uh–hope you don't mind. Turns out I didn't have my spare set with me…"
Baylee was sitting in his recliner, a glass of water in his right hand. At the sound of Mila walking, he turned his head, the light from the TV casting an odd shadow across the left side of his face. The first thing he looked at were her eyes, making obvious eye contact. Then he glanced downward and realized why she was saying what she said. His eyes immediately went back to her face.
"Yeah, it's all good," he said, turning back to the TV and taking a sip of water. He wasn't about to look her up and down. She was in a stranger's home, wearing his shirt and almost nothing else. Other men would've tried to sneak a peak of her, but not him. She had to deal with that enough at the bar.
A sigh that seemed to come from the very tips of her toes shuddered through Mila's tiny form. "Thanks." She said softly, genuine gratitude in every line of her face. She padded further into the room, each step casually graceful and silent, still wearing her purple socks. Deciding against raiding his kitchen, despite the slight pains of hunger that were making themselves known, Mila curled up on the loveseat, tucking her legs beneath her. "Aren't you tired?" She inquired, eyes flashing to the clock that read just past 3am. A night owl herself, she felt wide awake.
"I typically don't sleep when I have the night shift," he admitted, turning the TV down so that he could hear her better. His attention was solely on her when she spoke, a right that almost no one else had. His eyes shone with genuine interest now every time she started speaking and his scowl slowly came undone the more she spoke.
She shivered slightly in the cold room, making him frown. She barely has anything on. He wasn't turned on by that thought. Instead, he was concerned.
"Gimme a second, búp bê," he said, the nickname becoming so familiar he didn't even have to think about it. He stood up from his chair and walked into his room, rummaging around for a bit before returning with a thick woolly blanket. He walked over and wrapped it around her shoulders, his face only inches away when she leaned forward so that he could slip the blanket behind her.
"Feeling better, or do I need to get ya another one?" he asked, stepping back and scratching the bridge of his nose.
Mila pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, relaxing further into the warmth. "No, this is wonderful. Thank you." Seems she was doing a lot of thanking tonight. She was going to have to do something to make it up to him. In her book, words were simply not enough.
Baylee nodded and began to turn away, but Mila reached out to grasp his hand. "Hey wait–" God his hand was warm. Unintentionally, she squeezed his fingers against her own. "What does that mean? Those words you've said to me a few times tonight? I would try to say it but–I really don't want to butcher it…" She trailed off, chuckling.
"What, búp bê?" he asked, wincing slightly. She had grabbed his bruised hand, but he wasn't about to pull it away. In fact, the feeling of her hand in his was quite…nice, actually. Maybe just having physical contact with her was nice. "It means 'doll.' You have really pretty eyes, and they reminded me of a doll's, but I didn't want it to seem creepy."
She hadn't been expecting that answer. Not at all. It was obvious from the way Mila looked down and off to the side, her entire face warming. Her hand squeezed Baylee's for a second time before releasing. "That's very sweet of you." She paused, considering her next words. "I really like it actually." How best to make sure she didn't accidentally reveal the truth that she had never had someone call her something along the lines of 'endearing'? Mila couldn't think of anything more to say that wasn't entirely lame, so she just looked back up at Baylee. Those eyes he appreciated shining in the faint light from the TV.