Don't Drop Your Mask

Rain. It’s raining. I’m lost in Baltimore and it’s raining. And I don’t have my cute rain boots or the clear umbrella my grandma gave me when I was younger that curves over and covers more of my body. You know, like the old seventies looking ones? No. I’m outside, wearing a freaking tank top and low rider jeans; my genius plan earlier to try to get raped or mugged was to dress scantily… well, like this.

And I’m lost.

I had a glitch in my mind to get some Casanova to chase me down and got lost in Baltimore while he went off to kiss some other girl.

I grumbled as I kept walking. I turned down some street. I think I’m going the wrong way. I should have paid attention. How do I not know Baltimore by now? I groaned and slid down a wall.

“Ouch!” I said. I cut myself on a rock. I wiped the blood off on my jeans and glared at everything.

I picked up the rock and threw it at a fresh puddle.

The nuclear bomb explosion it left in its tiny puddle world temporarily made me forget my situation.

I smiled. Then remembered:

I’m lost in Baltimore.
At somewhere around three am (my ‘attack me’ costume didn’t include a watch)
While it’s raining.

It’s dark.
I have no way of getting home.

And I just got enjoyment from watching a rock land in a puddle, so that’s one penny to the insanity jar.

I ground my teeth together and threw another rock.

“Stupid Baltimore.”

Splash.

I picked up handful of wet gravel and picked out the biggest rock.

“Stupid tank top.”

Splash.

I looked to the other side and picked up another rock.

“Stupid marshmallows.”

Splash.

“Stupid rain.”

Splash.

“Stupid Casanova.”

“You rang?”

I looked up. It was him! I jumped up, smiling. “You’re here!” I said happily. Then my face fell. I slapped him. Then I gasped. “Oh. My. God. I’m sooo sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Layla, this will be the, what third time I’ve saved your ass?”

I shyly looked down and kicked around some gravel with my shoe. “Yeaaah.”

“And you greet me by slapping me?”

“…yeah.”

“Just wanted to clear that up.”

“Well, once we get back to my place I can take you upstairs so we can ice it.”

“And you continue to invite me up to your apartment.”

“It’s a nice apartment.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I just want to heal your injury!” I cried. We walked through a streetlight. “Y-you’re arm is bleeding! And your shirt’s torn. Did someone knife you?”

“Oh, they didn’t get in very deep.”

“You have to let me clean that up.”

“This isn’t going to work,” he said, leading me through a dark little road.

“I’m not trying this time. I’m serious. You really need to clean that up.”

“Well, let’s hurry up and get you home so I can get back to my place in time to clean it up and get enough sleep to survive work tomorrow.”

“Wow, you work?”

“Well, most people do.”

“Well, I meant, you don’t like, just steal money?” I asked.

“I try to help people. Not steal their money.”

“Well I guess I’ll cross Robin Hood off my list of names.”

He chuckled. “I like your sense of humor.”

I smiled. Wow. We’re already back at my place. “I feel kind of stupid knowing I was this close to my apartment.”

“Nah, I knew a shortcut.”

“Oh,” I said, realizing I didn’t pay attention most of the way here. “Well, please let me come up and dress your wound.”

“No, Layla.”

I sighed. “Can I go get you some ice or towels at least?”

He smiled. “You can kiss it and make it better.”

“You want me to kiss your bloody arm?”

“No,” he said, “the cheek you slapped.”

I bit my lip. Now I feel bad and he’s going to guilt me into doing it. “Only if you say you’ll come up.”

“I’ll consider it.”

I sighed. “Fine,” I said. I closed my eyes and leaned in to peck his cheek.

That cheeky bastard turned at the last minute and caught my lips with his. I just kinda stood there shocked or a minute before pulling back. “You jerk!” I yelled.

He started running off. “See you later, love.”

“Aren’t you coming up?”

“I said I’d consider it. Plus, you missed my cheek!”

I grumbled and made my way upstairs. Unlocking my door, I smiled a little. Well, at least I can’t say he’s not entertaining.