Page 38 of Unapologetic Love Story

What happened after that was slightly difficult to recall but he remembered the man’s fist hitting his face. He remembered hitting back. Harder. That part was marked with painful clarity.

He didn’t remember hitting the pavement with a thud, but he must have done. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Raina’s open, concerned face staring down at him while she anxiously repeated his name. Her lashes looked so long and he liked the red lipstick she was wearing.

‘You’re so pretty,’ he mumbled before losing consciousness.

CHAPTER NINE

Raina felt heat creeping up her neck as a dazed and confused Tom Branimir murmured the words. The lingering police officers were hauling away the caveman who’d punched her writer, and a medic had dashed over to check on him.

‘Can you tell me your name, sir?’ the medic asked.

‘Tom Branimir,’ Tom answered, wincing and trying to sit up.

‘Steady,’ the medic said. He was kneeling on one side of Tom, Raina on the other. ‘We lost you for a few seconds. Can you sit up for me?’

‘It’s just some hairy knuckles to my face,’ Tom grumbled as he shifted into a sitting position. ‘It’s fine.’

‘You realize this gentleman is here to assist the runners if they get injured,’ Raina said, smiling teasingly at him. ‘Not haughty writers who get into fights.’

‘I was defending your honour,’ Tom sputtered, bending his head to allow the medic to tend his bloody nose. His tone was self-deprecating and Raina was mildly charmed by it. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the situation.

‘Yes, you’re a ballsy hero.’

He snorted with mirth and then winced, causing Raina’s smile to briefly falter. There was something amusing about the fact they were huddled on the pavement, tending to a spectator’s wounds, while hundreds of charity runners flashed by in hilarious costumes.

‘You’ll be fine,’ the medic finally ascertained, handing Tom some more tissue. ‘It’s no longer bleeding.’

Tom nodded gruffly and made to get up. Raina went to help him and they were suddenly very close and practically leaning on one another in the middle of the street. Raina looked up into his face and then glanced away quickly, finding the eye contact and close proximity a little too invasive.

‘You hungry?’ she asked bluntly.

He waited until she looked at him again before answering. ‘Starving.’

She tried to ignore the heat in his gaze. ‘There’s a great cafe in Westferry. Come on, wobbler.’

They left the marathon. Raina kept an eye on Tom’s nose, ready to supply him with more tissues at the first sign of scarlet, but it behaved itself.

Upon arriving at the cafe, a place Raina and her previous boyfriend, Matt, had frequented many times, she gave a warm greeting to Mr Hsu the owner, who returned the sentiment. His face lost all warmth when his gaze landed on Tom.

‘Is he like the last one?’ he asked with thinly veiled distaste, nodding towards the slightly crusty red blood on Tom’s face.

‘Most definitely not,’ Raina replied, bundling the injured writer into a booth in the corner.

‘What last one?’ Tom grouched.

‘Never mind.’ Raina fished in her bag for the little first-aid kit she carried at all times. It was a pink leopard-print bag the size of a make-up carrier, and it was full of plasters, bandages, gauze, burn cream, scissors, antiseptic wipes and pads and many other objects for a medical emergency. Raina could feel Tom watching her in bemusement as she unwrapped a wipe and then slapped it, rather aggressively, onto the dried blood caking the lower half of his face. He let out a disgruntled noise of protest, which she ignored. She dabbed, a little more gently, and cleaned off most of the evidence.

‘Trust you to get into a fight,’ she said. ‘First time I’ve had to make a hasty exit from the marathon. And why does your accent ramp up whenever you’re yelling at other men?’

‘I’m a Scot,’ he mumbled. ‘Can’t put one thousand years into a short answer for you.’

Raina had to admit to herself that the fight had been a little thrilling. She was used to aggressive men making life uncomfortable – so was just about every woman she knew. She’d immediately clocked the loudmouthed oaf as the kind of person she would cross the street to avoid. The kind that would cause her to slip out of her Tube carriage and into another. The kind that would make Raina and her girlfriends collect their drinks from the bar and move just ever so slightly further down, so they were out of his eyeline.

Her previous boyfriend had always licked the arse of men like that.

Seeing Tom Branimir’s handsome face fill with disdain, while he stepped dangerously close to the neanderthal, had been concerning. But also quite hot.

Raina would tolerate male feminists, who always seemed to prefer lecturing women on how they were doing empowerment wrong over actually confronting male violence and systemic sexism. She would take whatever allies she could find.