Bleeding and dripping with sweat, they cautiously circle until something simultaneously snaps in each of them like the berserkers of old and they launch themselves at the other, going down to the floor, rolling across it as they fight for dominance.
I scream as all hell breaks loose when they roll into the crowd, knocking people down in the fray. Suddenly, everyone is fighting and pushing. Drinks are flying and the music cuts out.
I’m shoved backward, no longer able to see the guys or Lilith anywhere, as I’m swallowed by the chaos. Red flood lights kick on as an alarm sounds. Panicked, people run for the exits. I spin around, trying to find the best exit path out of pandemonium.
Just as I start to hyperventilate, realizing that we are deep underground, and my phobia rises to the surface as I try to contemplate escape, an angel reaches his hand out to me. I stand there staring at him. Even in the chaos and red lights, I can see he is beautiful.
Not only is he beautiful, but this is the exact man from my childhood. The exact shade of white blonde hair, the beyond handsome face. I can’t see his eye color in these flood lights, but I know the exact shade of the navy ring around a light blue iris that would be there if I could. This is my guardian angel.
Shocked, I hesitate to take his hand. But as I get knocked again by the surging crowd, my mind shifts into survival mode, and I trustingly put my hand in his outstretched one just as I am pushed forward and fall into him.
My rescuer pulls me into his side and yells in my ear above the cacophony, “We gotta get out of here!”
I nod woodenly, trying to wrap my head around the apparition of my childhood imaginary friend, and let him lead me through the crowd, his bulk buffering the pushing and shoving. I knew I wasn’t making him up.
He skirts us around the perimeter until we reach the back corner, away from the mass of people, and pushes through an emergency exit door, pulling me up the metal staircase behind him.
My lungs burn, but I keep running as fast as I can, fueled by rising panic at being trapped deep underground and getting trampled. The noise of the people fades away, but the blaring alarm is deafening. Unable to take the overstimulation anymore I clap my hands over my ears.
Eventually, we come to a door to the outside and he leads me out into the breaking dawn. He surveys the parking lot and then races us over to a group of motorcycles.
I huff as we jog over to the bikes, thankful at least we are done running up stairs. My rescuer helps me onto the back of a sleek white Harley Sportster and then climbs on in front of me.
I wrap my arms around his waist tightly and hang on for dear life. Another long desired first, although I never thought my first bike ride would be like this.
“Is this your bike?” I yell against his back.
I feel his chest rumble as he chuckles and throws back, “I’m just borrowing it.”
He kicks the bike on and the engine leaps to life with a deep throaty purr. We take off like a shooting star out into the breaking dawn. He weaves us through the parking lot, dodging cars and people with expert precision as I try to lean when he leans, my fists bunched in his shirt.
The noise of the panicked crowd leaving the building behind reaches a fever pitch, and then he launches us off the curb and onto the street, pushing the bike faster and harder, until all I can hear is the rumble of the engine and the wind whistling past my ears. My breathing slows as my heart rate maintains its frantic pace.
I squeeze my eyes tight against the wind, whipping my hair into my face, and wrap my arms tighter around him until he eases up on the throttle and pats my hand where it is in a death grip on his shirt. I marginally relax.
Now that we are no longer going breakneck speed and seem to be out of danger, I open my eyes and dare to sit up a little straighter. The breaking dawn around us is beautiful, and the cool wind feels amazing as it rushes past my overheated skin.
The alcohol has long since worn off with the adrenaline and my body quickly chills. I realize I am on the back of a bike, pressed up against a stranger in a short skirt with no underwear on, my bare ass on a stolen motorcycle seat. The realization makes me swallow hard.
This is not how I thought tonight would end. Or any day ever in my life. I knew Lilith was trouble.
My angel winds his way back out of the industrial complex, and the freedom of being on the back of the bike, leaving an epic cluster fuck behind us, both literal and figurative, bleeds the tension from my body.
He sways the bike side to side playfully, and I find my body instinctively following his, my center of gravity shifting with the bike. It's so joyous a laugh bubbles up from my throat, pulling the fear and disbelief at tonight’s events out with it.
Life is a wild ride. Despite everything that has happened tonight, I haven’t felt pure joy like this in ages. It’s the oddest juxtaposition. He makes a few more turns and we pop into a cute suburb where we pull into the parking lot of a quaint little restaurant that looks like a cottage.
My rescuer smoothly dismounts and gallantly offers me a hand as I struggle to slide forward and then off the bike with everything under my skirt on full display. He keeps his eyes on mine as my face heats, embarrassed even though he doesn’t so much as sneak a peek. He really must be an angel.
I’m thankful for his steadying hand. His chivalry gives me the courage to say, “This is going to sound so crazy, but I swear you look exactly like my guardian angel from when I was a little girl.”
“How do I look for my age?” he asks out of the side of his mouth while waggling his eyebrows at me.
I laugh in response. There is no way I could have been seeing him for close to thirty years. He doesn’t appear much older or younger than me. He would have had to age over that amount of time, unless he really was an angel. Wait,do angels age?
“You better tell your guardian angel to fly faster to keep up with you. I’m just Gabe,” he says.
“Well, just Gabe, I’m just Lieshe,” I reply. His answer was so kind, he didn’t laugh at me or make me feel small. I’m thoroughly programmed not to speak of my imaginary angel, so it's refreshing to be able to say something out loud.
