I silently put my napkin back on the table and stood to leave.
Kirk grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin where Odessa couldn’t see.
“Hey, buddy, if you don’t want to exchange number, fine. But walking away as soon as I show up? That’s rude. How about I apologize?”
His grip tightened, and I tried pulling free, but weakness overtook me. After a few failed attempts, I finally succeeded—just in time for Kirk’s hand to collide with a server carrying a steaming pot of soup. The tray wobbled, and the soup spilled everywhere.
Odessa screamed as Kirk pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the scalding liquid. I wasn’t as lucky. By the time I looked back, it was too late. My hand bore the brunt of the spill, angry red blisters instantly forming across the skin. The searing pain brought tears to my eyes.
Odessa’s scream pierced the air as Kirk pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the spill like a hero in a melodrama. I wasn’t as lucky. By the time I turned back, it was too late. The soup drenched my hand, angry red blisters forming almost instantly. The searing pain sent tears streaming down my cheeks, blurring my vision.