The Aftermath of the 'Accident'

The adrenaline had finally drained out of me, leaving behind a shaky, hollow feeling that had nothing to do with the stale popcorn I’d inhaled during the whole ordeal. Liam, bless his ridiculously sturdy shoulders, had practically peeled the assailant off me like a particularly stubborn piece of lint. The police, bless their efficient sirens, had arrived with a speed that suggested they’d been lurking just around the corner, waiting for my life to implode spectacularly. Which, to be fair, it had. Just not in the way I usually managed. Usually, it involved tripping over my own feet or accidentally insulting someone’s grandmother. This was… next level.

“You okay?” Liam’s voice, usually a low rumble that could soothe a charging rhinoceros, was tight with a concern that had my traitorous stomach doing flip-flops. He was still holding me, his arms a firm, reassuring cage around me, even though the immediate danger had passed. The attacker, a sweaty mess of misplaced aggression and questionable fashion choices, was being led away, muttering threats that sounded suspiciously like they involved me owing him money for… something.

I managed a weak nod, my head still buzzing. “Yeah. Thanks. You know, for… not letting me get mugged. Or worse.” My voice cracked a little. “And for the whole pretend boyfriend thing. You were *so* convincing when you yelled at him to back off. I almost believed it myself.”