Redemption

A few days had gone by since the incident that Alex had saved me from and my life had resumed it's unfaltering routine. I inhaled the bitter taste of another cigarette, watching the smoke escape from my mouth as the bar tender poured me another drink. He looked to be in his 60s, salt and pepper hair, crinkled rough skin, and his teeth were all too white to be his own.
"Nice night out, huh?" He asked, watching me down the whiskey like it was nothing more than water.
I nodded, ignoring the feeling of him watching me.
"You've been spending a lot of time here," he noted.
"Gotta bide my time somewhere," I gave him a halfhearted smile and began to dig out the money I owed him. As I was counting the bills, a hand dropped money on the counter in front of me. I glanced up and my eyes met a pair of familiar green ones.
"Can we please talk?" He pleaded.
I sighed and stood up from my bar stool.
---
"So why are you doing this?" I asked as we settled into our booth at the empty diner.
"Doing what?" He smirked.
"Wasting your time."
He shook his head and paused in thought, you could practically see him arranging his next words in his head.
"I don't consider taking a beautiful woman for a late night meal a waste of my time."
"We both know this isn't about eating," I retorted.
"You're right," he nodded, "this is about us getting to know one another."
"Alright, so tell me about yourself."
I learned a lot about him as we nibbled at our food, talking between bites. I still didn't trust him. I wouldn't let myself trust him. But if I had to admit it, I'd say Alex seemed too good of a person to be true.
"So what about you?" Alex asked as we climbed into his car. (Let it be noted that his car was the nicest thing I believe I have ever set foot in)
"I'm here," I shrugged.
"Come on, I told you all about me."
I sighed and looked out the window.
"You can let me out up here," I said as a small, dingy looking motel came into view.
"I have a spare bedroom," he insisted. "I'm not letting you do that," he said as we passed a woman wearing next to nothing, waiting on her next client.
I just kept my mouth closed. Sometimes it's best that way.
--
I sat on the couch in Alex's living room, his white t-shirt hung to the middle of my thighs and a pair of his boxers hung loosely on my hips. My damp hair clung to my skin and smelled like his shampoo.
We were talking and drinking coffee, my knuckles white on the handle as I tried to push the thoughts of alcohol to the very back of my mind.
"Where in America are you from?" He asked me.
"Tennessee, we lived in a really small town... My parents passed away when I was 15."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," everything about him was apologetic, his words, his eyes, everything.
"It's ok," I murmured, shaking my head.
"What?" He asked softly.
"I always say it's ok... Out of habit, but it's really not."
He reached over to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I tensed at first but finally leaned into him.
"How did it happen?" He sounded reluctant to ask.
"They were murdered," I said, resting my head against him. "We weren't really getting along at the time and the night it happened... I was out with friends. I could've been there. I could've stopped it," I felt my face grow hot, angry at myself. I was always angry at myself.
"Everything happens for a reason. There's nothing you could've done, sweetheart," he murmured, stroking my arm lightly and pulling me tighter to his body.
And this is the moment I realized how possible it is to love someone you just met. But I swore to myself I would never admit that love to myself.