Flagging down the first black cab I see, I crawl into the backseat and reel off the address Giselle gave me, to the driver. He nods and then pulls away from the curb with less than perfect finesse whilst I snap my seatbelt over my chest.
Now that I’ve heard her sweet voice, the knot of worry sitting low in my stomach has loosened a little, making space for a fiery anger. I know she was upset at something I said, although what exactly I don’t know, but still, there wasn’t any reason for Giselle to walk out into the night like that without another word to me.
I hate that the very reason I was worried is because I’ve watched the news, I’ve seen the statics, I’ve heard the first-hand accounts from my very own mother, and I know the sick things that depraved men do to women in the dark cover of night. It’s disgusting and I hate it. It makes me sick to my stomach, wretchedly angry and ashamed of my own gender.
After she’d left, my mind wouldn’t stop bringing up images of Giselle in danger, being leered on and cornered. Followed even.
Leaving the pub behind, I began to walk with no particular destination in sight.
Well, my most desired destination was Giselle’s apartment, but as I had no fucking clue where that was…
With cold, shaky hands I hit call on Rex’s number, not even feeling the slightest bit guilty when he answered with a groggy voice that told me I’d woken him up.
“Do you have Giselle’s number, mate?”
It was a sign of how tired he was, or maybe even still half asleep, because he didn’t ask me why on earth I’d need Giselle’s number, but rather yawned audibly and then muttered, “Nah, I don’t.”
“Rosie’s?”
“Yeah.” He smacked his lips, and I heard the low questioning tone of a woman’s voice in the background. “I’ll send it to you.”
I wasn’t even sure the phone number Rex text me a minute after we’d put the phone down on each other would be correct. How could it be when he wasn’t awake enough to form proper sentences, let alone type out eleven digits?
But sure enough the number he’d given me connected and, thank fuck someone was on my side, the blue ticks beside the message I sent to Rosie, told me that she was still wide awake enough to read it and reply.
She sent me through another set of eleven digits, although these ones were the only ones that made my heart race and my stomach flip while the dial tone rang and rang and—
The sound of Giselle’s voice as she picked up the phone still rings in my ears, as the driver of the cab I’m sitting in goes over a speed bump without any real care for his suspension.
I fumble through social media app after social media app in an attempt to make the drive pass by quicker, but nothing holds my attention, every highly edited post I see only fuelling my irritation until I close out of the apps with a huff.
When the driver eventually pulls up to the curb and rattles off the amount I owe him, I toss him the note through thepartition, and hurriedly step out with a promise for him to keep the change. Nothing else really matters except getting to Giselle as quickly as possible so I can see with my own eyes that she’s fine.
Standing in front of the glass door to her apartment block, I jamb my thumb into the square button where somebody has hastily written her apartment number on a tiny bit of paper which, by the looks of it, has had to be taped back up, numerous times.
I hear the tinny sound of the buzzer, like an angry bumblebee, and then the click of the receiver on the other end. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Will you let me up, please?”
Giselle doesn’t reply, although I can hear her breathing through the receiver and for a heartbeat I wonder if she’s going to turn me away before the line disconnects and the door to her apartment block flashes green with entry.
Once inside, I take the stairs two at a time. I could take the lift to the fifth floor, but those bastards make me feel claustrophobic, so I sprint up the fire exit staircase instead; a mixture of adrenaline, anger and worry nipping at my heels.
Tucking my fingers into a fist, I rap twice in quick succession on Giselle’s door, waiting, waiting, waiting—
The door swings open, Giselle appearing on the other side and the sliver of sanity I’d been holding onto disappears. I push inside, closing the door behind me with the bat of my palm, twisting the lock without even needing to look and then I’m on her, gripping the sides of her waist so I can feel her – solid and unharmed beneath my fingers.
“You scared me shitless,” I breathe.
Those sky-blue eyes of hers bounce across my face. “I’m sorry, Hudson. I didn’t mean to make you worry, I just…”
“Don’t ever do that again, Giselle.”
Her brow furrows, lips becoming bunched. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“It’s a fucking good job I’m not,” I say, “because otherwise I’d be taking you over my knee right now until you learn your lesson.”
Giselle scoffs, but I don’t miss the way her pupil dilates, eating up her brightly coloured iris.
