[Rue's POV]

My head spins and my vision blurs, but even then, I still sip on a drink while Mr. Owens orders our meal for the evening.

Once he is finished, he shifts his gaze to me, and when he opens his mouth, I brace myself for what is to come.

"You should really slow down."

"I'm fine," I assure him, plastering a smile on my face. "The room is just spinning and I feel like my brain is filled with helium. Am I floating?"

"Rue," he hisses, and I feel my heart squeeze. "That's enough."

"Oh, leave her be," my mom murmurs. "She's just enjoying herself."

"There is a difference between enjoying yourself and making irresponsible choices."

"Hey," I growl, slamming my glass down on the table. "Who the hell do you think you are to say such things to me?"

Dammit. Shut up, Rue!

"You aren't my teacher anymore."

Shut up before you say something you regret!

"And you aren't my dad!"

"Rue," my mother gasps, her eyes widening. "What are you even saying? Of course he is your fat..."

"HE ISN'T!" I yell, drawing the gazes of those around us. "He isn't my father! My father died many years ago, and he...he..." I continue as those damned complex feelings of mine come rushing in despite the alcohol in me. "He... forget it."

Feeling at a loss and completely defeated, I stand and grab my purse from the table beside me.

"You know what," I say slowly, knowing that I needed to get out of here before I said something that I would certainly regret in the morning. "Since I'm clearly ruining the evening, I'm going to leave."

"Rue!" My mother gasps. "Where are..."

"Enjoy your meal."

It's the only thing I say before I start to move, each step sloppy, through the restaurant and out into the night, where a cool sea breeze hits me.

"Fuck." I growl, realizing that instead of making myself feel better about everything, I only made myself feel worse. "What the hell am I even doing?"

Shaking my head, I look around, taking in the city around me, and when I find myself not wanting to enjoy the vibes that the night has created for it, I start moving.

I don't have a destination in mind as I walk, but at least the seabreeze is starting to clear the fuzziness that I'm feeling, and by the time my drunken stupor turns into a buzzed feeling, I realize that I've gone too far and I don't remember the way back to the resort that we are staying in.

"Well shit," I huff, dropping onto a bench and pulling out my phone in hopes of getting the address from my mother, only to find that it has a dead battery. "Not only did you ruin the evening, but now you're going to have everyone worried."

But would I?

Would they really give two shits about an adult going missing for a night? Especially when they were on their honeymoon.

I doubted it, and that alone leaves me feeling so damn empty.

Sighing, I lean back on the bench that I'm sitting on and then try to come up with a game plan, but before I can, I hear the sound of laughing.

Going on alert, I turn my gaze in the direction that it came from to find four college-aged-looking guys heading toward me.

"Great," I grumble, standing and deciding that maybe it was better that I at least head back in the direction I came. "This night just keeps getting better."

"Hey!" One guy calls from behind as I start to move. "Are you just going to up and leave?"

Of course I am. I think inwardly, knowing that if I stuck around and allowed them to approach me, then things would certainly get ugly.

"Hey!" The guy yells again when I don't respond. "Are you ignoring me?"

I am.

"Come on, don't be like that, baby." Another adds, and a burst of laughter escapes the guys. "We just wanted to talk to you."

As they speak, I keep my gaze fixed ahead, taking in the dark street around me while hoping beyond hope that I will find a store or even a person who can help me. However, luck isn't on my side, and with each step I make, the guys grow closer to me until a hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me.

"Hey," the one who grabbed me says, his face angry. "Don't you know it is rude to ignore someone when they are talking to you?"

"Yeah," another chuckles. "Is this your way of flirting? Playing hard to get?"

Who was playing?

I really wasn't interested in these guys, and I didn't want anything to do with them.

"Let go," I say slowly, trying to keep my voice even. "Now."

"Or what?" The one holding me asks, leaning closer. "Hey, beautiful, have you been drinking?"

"I haven't," I snap, trying to move back.

"You sure?" He continues, his buddies closing in on me. "You know, if you're up for another round, then you can..."

"I SAID LET GO!"

My voice echoes around us as I pull as hard as I can, but instead of breaking free of the guys' hold, I end up stumbling and then crashing to my knees.

Hissing, I try to ignore the pain that shoots through me as asphalt and rocks rip at my skin.

"Oh, isn't that a lovely position." The guy holding me laughs. "It's perfect for..."

He doesn't get to finish his words before a fist appears and slams into his nose, and when I turn to see who has come to my rescue, I find Mr. Owens towering over me.

"What the hell is going on here?" He growls, shifting his gaze to me. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I snap, hating the accusation in his voice. "I think it is pretty clear what is happening here."

"It is," he confirms, taking in the three that glare on silently. "But I'm wondering exactly who it was that pushed her down."

As he speaks, Mr. Owens moves his gaze along the three, and when it meets the eyes of the guy who is still clinging to my wrist despite his broken nose and bloody face, his eyes turn almost black with rage and his expression turns scary.

[Rue's POV]

Before I can even process what is happening, Mr. Owens is moving, grabbing the guy holding my wrist by the collar and then swinging so his fist connects with the guy's face again.

"Tell me," he growls, landing another blow. "What exactly did you plan on doing to her?"

"I..." the man gasps. "I was..."

He doesn't get to finish his words before Mr. Owens hits him again and again, and when I'm certain that the guy is unconscious, I wrap my arms around his to stop him from landing another blow.

"Mr. Owens!" I hiss as he fits against my hold. "Mr. Owens!" I repeat more strongly. "LEO!" I scream, and to my surprise, he stops and looks my way. "That's enough."

As I speak, I look toward the guy who is dangling by Mr. Owens' hand, and it is clear that he won't be waking up any time soon.

"You've done enough," I say slowly. "We should head back."

I wasn't quite certain how he managed to show up at the time that he did, but didn't that mean that my mother was all alone somewhere?

"I'm sure Mom is waiting for you."

Growing quiet, I wait while Mr. Owens stares at me and then at the man in his hand, and when he releases him, I feel a wave of relief, at least until Mr. Owens' gaze narrows and I realize that I'm about to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?" He roars, his voice echoing around us, and the remaining two guys grab their buddy and haul ass. "YOU'RE AN ADULT NOW! YOU NEED TO START ACTING LIKE IT!"

Opening my mouth, I prepare to argue but stop as memories from the past start to surface, and I realize what could be stirring some of his anger.

After he found me trapped outside in the rain that one time, he found me a few more times in similar situations.

Each time he would always do the same thing of bringing me to his class and making me hot chocolate.

Once I had my drink in hand, he would sit and listen if I was willing to talk.

Most of the time, I wasn't, but a few times I admitted what was going on, and when I would tell him about the bullying, he would always ask why I never did anything about it.

At the time my mother was busy enough with work and raising me, so I didn't want to add to her worries, and I knew if I went and told the teachers, I was certain that the friends of my bullies would just come after me.

When I would explain that to him, he would still preach about speaking up and finding someone to help me instead of enduring.

"HAVE YOU STILL NOT LEARNED ANYTHING?" He continues now, in the present, and not in the past. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TRY TO FIND HELP?"

"I did," I counter, a small smile beginning to form on my face from the sheer relief I felt from his being there for me like in the past. "But there was no one around."

"No one around," he repeats with a scoff. "If there is no one around, then you run, understand?"

"Sure," I sigh. "Next time I find myself in a predicament like this, I will run."

"There shouldn't be a next time." He counters. "Now, let me see you. Are you hurt anywhere? Did they do anything to you?"

As he speaks, his hands gently touch my face, my neck, and my arms, and his dark yet bright gaze takes me in, and when they come to rest on my knees that are scraped and bloody, he shifts them in the direction the guys went.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Just a small scrape. I won't die from that."

"Maybe," he agrees. "But you're still hurt."

"I'll be fine. I can clean and bandage it when we get back."

Nodding, Mr. Owens lets out a long breath and runs his hand through his hair, and when he drops it, I realize that there is blood on it.

"Forget about me!" I gasp, reaching out and grabbing the hand. "You're hurt."

As I speak, I let my gaze travel over the scrapes and bruises on his hand, and it takes everything in me not to go after the guys myself.

"I'm fine," he chuckles, pulling his hand free and then ruffling my hair. "Come on, let's get back before your mom sends out a search party for us."

"Yeah."

Although I know that he is right and I should want to go back so that my mother sees I'm fine, I can't help but hate that this moment with Mr. Owens is over.

Selfish. The small voice in the back of my head says, and I know that it is right.

I was being selfish when it came to a man that wasn't mine and yet...

Let me be selfish just for a bit longer.

"Ah!" I gasp as I take a step forward and then stumble, so Mr. Owens is left catching me.

Where his hands touch comes alive with a delicious energy, and I find myself wishing that he would touch me more.

"What's wrong?" He asks, eyeing me. "Didn't you say you weren't hurt?"

"It's my ankle." I tell him, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't tell I was pretending. "It really hurts."

"Your ankle," he repeats. "Here, let me see."

Gasping, I watch as he drops to a knee in front of me and then gently starts to touch my ankles. When he finishes, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I feel my heart flutter frantically.

"They don't seem to be sprained." He says. "But does it hurt too bad to walk?"

"Y-yeah," I breathe, trying to calm down. "I think so."

Dammit, Rue. I hiss inwardly, hating myself for acting like this. Clearly I watched too many damn dramas, and now I was trying to pretend that I was one of the heroines in them.

"Then I guess there isn't any other choice." He says, turning and presenting his back to me. "Climb on."

For a moment, I don't speak as I stare at his broad back and then get a glimpse of a tattoo behind his hair.

I wonder what it is. I think, slowly moving so I can wrap my arms around his neck while his arms wrap around my legs and lift me.

"Just bear with it till we get back." He tells me. "I know that this must be uncomfortable for you."

On the contrary. I respond silently. If anything, this is probably the best feeling in the world to me right now.