We sat in a quiet diner (more like an old coffee house), across from each other in a booth near the window. Outside cars raced by on the highway, their headlights clear for only seconds in the dark of the night before they disappeared into their destination.

I wondered if I ran towards them, if anyone would stop for me.

I wondered if they'd even notice.

I sighed and swallowed deeply.

"You promised you'd tell me what's going on," I reminded the boy in front of me, but he had barely acknowledged me since we'd arrived. He'd just shoved me none-too-gently into the booth before sitting down himself. Ever since then he'd switched from looking at the menu to scanning the diner and the darkness outside.

My words, however, did cause his eyes to meet mine for a second, his face emotionless if not a little annoyed. I felt my own annoyance pick up but knew better than to show it. I'd let my guard down (sort of) around him for a moment, and now I'd been kidnapped and dragged into some kind of mess.

This is why I was always cautious. This is why I got afraid.

"Just get something to eat," He said, pushing my menu about and inch closer to me, as if I couldn't have reached it or seen it myself. I frowned and clutched my hands in my lap, refusing to comply to his suggestion. "You'll feel better." He tried to reason but I knew it was only meant to distract me.

"I don't see how eating will make me feel better," I said dryly but somehow I was suddenly gripping the menu and looking down at it as if I had no control of my actions. This scared me, because if nothing else, I always could control myself.

I frowned and squinted down at the menu. The words seemed like a different language to my cluttered mind and I had trouble focusing enough to read what was available to order. I blinked a few times but was still too distracted.

We had entered a lapse of silence in which I stared blankly at the menu, wondering how I could possibly tell the waitress I was in danger without Brick seeing. Maybe I could mouth 'Call the police.'

But if he saw he could get mad…and kill us all.

A part of me said I was being silly; that Brick wasn't the one I should be afraid of.

But another part, the stronger part that had driven my logic most of my life, reminded me that I'd just been dragged off in the middle of the night. I shivered and gripped the menu tighter.

"Are you cold?" I looked up to find Brick watching me, his hazel eyes on my face before they moved to scan quickly down. They observed my white knuckles. The corner of his mouth tugged down into a small, barely perceivable, frown at my tight grip.

The diner was freezing, although I hadn't really noticed it until then, but that wasn't why I shivered. I frowned though, and just nodded. He didn't need to know how scared I truly was.

I learned from a young age the showing fear was just as dangerous as having it.

"I'm not exactly wearing shoes," I reminded him, still upset about my hasty capture. Not only were shoes required for restaurants, but who knew what kind of germs were on the ground? And here I was with my bare toes rubbing against the cold tiles as my feet swung beneath the table.

Brick opened his mouth but the waitress bustled up before he could talk. I looked over at the woman, her movements were tired and her mouth was smiling slightly. But unfortunately her eyes were on her notepad, ready to take our orders, instead of looking at me for a sign to call the cops.

"What can I get you two?" She asked.

"Coffee," Brick said and although he was addressing the waitress I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to order as well.

I got the feeling he was trying to see if I was going to play along with this 'nothing is wrong' act he'd been perfecting since we'd entered the restaurant.

However, the memory of the run from the motel and the recollection of how he'd pulled me quickly down the road refused to let me slip fully into the role.

"I'm not hungry," I said plainly, honestly. I was far too nervous to eat.

"She'll have a stack of pancakes," Brick said and I almost shot him a glare before I remembered myself and looked hastily down at the table surface. Act slightly normal. Just slightly.

He handed the waitress our menus and gave her a charming smile before she walked slowly to the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," I repeated, still glaring down at the offending table top.

"A girl's got to eat," He said and for the first time since my capture, his charming tone of voice was back. The sudden change from his low, harsh tones earlier had me looking up at him in slight amazement.

'There's nothing more dangerous than a bad boy with charm,' Someone had once told me.

I was beginning to see what they meant.

What's worse then a dangerous person with the ability to convey an illusion of trust?

"I'm not hungry," I repeated yet again, somewhere in the back of my mind a voice was warning me not to test my limits. But I, of course, ignored it. "I don't want pancakes, I don't want pleasant conversations, and I don't want to sit around in a restaurant with no shoes on. I just want you to tell me what's going on."

I just want to get out of here…

He was silent for a moment and the charming mask faltered slightly, but only enough for me to see him frown. But then, as quickly as it had fell, it was back up again with full force. He was smiling again and even though his eyes were serious, his dark eyebrows were raised in amusement.

"You don't want a pleasant conversation?" He asked finally and it took me all of a second to realize he was mocking me. "You're a hard girl to please."

"Brick," I warned and it felt weird to say his name out loud. Mostly because it felt almost familiar. Like I was used to talking to him, like I always said his name in the same ill-tempered way.

But that was dumb. I'd tried to avoid saying his name since the first time he'd told it to me.

"You're intense, aren't you?" He asked and his smile morphed into a smirk.

"When the situation calls for it, yes," I answered dryly, wondering if this boy ever answered a straight forward question or took a hint…..or killed anybody. (Hey, it's a logical question given the circumstances. And no, I hadn't forgotten he was a depraved lunatic with a thirst for blood.)

"What kind of situation do you think we're in Bernice?

Odd. He'd taken to calling me Blossom before.

"A bad one," I said, failing to come out with a more articulate answer. I could begin to describe to him just how bad I thought it was, but then he'd realize my fear. And I needed to regain control.

"Very observant," he commented dryly, still acting as if this were all a game. A joke. It was only the look in his eyes that kept me from thinking it really was some kind of practical joke. A bad ruse.

"How bad is it Brick?" Again his name came casually from my tongue. I should've been stumbling over it and hesitating.

He said nothing for a second and I could practically see him try to judge if he should tell me. If he could trust me.

"Please," I said softly. Usually my temper was enough to get me what I wanted but with this boy nothing ran as it should. And so I used the technique my mother used on my father every time he was being unreasonable. Appear demure and weak. "You promised you'd tell me. Brick."

I wasn't sure if it was the way if made my eyes soft or the way I stressed his name at the end but something made his eyes, his whole demeanor, softer and he looked away from me and moodily out the window.

Geez, between the two of our tempers and odd mood swings there was never a moment we weren't straining to keep up with each other.

"I don't know how to tell you…" He began just when I had thought he'd decided not to tell me. "I don't know how to tell you about those people. I don't know much about them myself."

I stopped talking and remained staring out into the night, the cars on the highway passed by but I no longer had the urge to run to them. I was glued to my spot.

"But they're following you?" I pressed, displaying the patience I used when my mother went off on one of her tangents and tried to trade all the lamps in the house with lava lamps and put beanbags in the sitting area instead of a recliner.

Brick looked at me then and I saw secrets burn behind his eyes.

"Yes," He said simply.

"And they they're after me now too. Because of you?" I asked, tying to get as much information out of him as I could. I swallowed at the thought that these unknown foes were after me too.

Brick's eyes flared and he looked back out the window.

"Yes." He said again.

I didn't ask anything else which was…weird for me. But I instead I stared at the smooth side of the boy's face that was presented to me. His skin was dark and his eyes were heated.

I frowned as I realized something.

He was lying to me.

I didn't know how I knew, but I did.

It was in the way his mouth was tightened into a small frown, the way his jaw had tensed. It wasn't because he was angry liked these signs would normal indicate but because he was lying to me.

I opened my mouth to press the subject, to bombard him with a million questions, but just then the waitress came with out food, her smile pleasant but I could hardly focused on her. I could barely remember to say thank you.

Instead I focused on the boy across from me.

Focus on how her stared out into the fading night.

I couldn't be sure what he was thinking, but one thing was for sure:

He knew more about our shadowed opponents then he was telling me.

And that fact alone kept me staring at him, trying to figure out what exactly was hunting him.

Hunting us.

---

"We can't go back to your car now," Brick said as walked deeper into the small town, away from the highway, away from the restaurant, away from the motel. He was pulling me along by my wrist although he needn't bother, it wasn't like I had anywhere to run. My cell phone (my only way of calling for help) was zipped up in my purse that was strewn on his opposite shoulder along with my duffel bag and his backpack.

I fought the urge to taunt him. He was, after all, carrying a purse.

I resisted only because I knew he was still a psychopath with the intent of killing me. Or at least I was pretty sure he was. I wasn't quite sure anymore but pretending to know helped ease my doubt. The fact that I knew next to nothing was just as terrifying as everything else that was going on.

"But I still have stuff in it!" I argued, ignoring the looks I received from the people we were passing.

"So?" He muttered, distracted as he looked up at the signs above the little shops we were passing.

I tried to drag my feet to annoy him but only resulted in having him tug me harder as he continued walking. My bare feet kicked up dust as I stumbled to keep up. I hated being dragged along like a little puppy.

"Those people can't still be there! We might as well go and get my stuff, get in the car, and hit the road until we find a police station," I reasoned, proud of my plan.

But…

Wait….

"Why exactly aren't we going to a police station in this town?" I asked. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Where had my sense of reason gone?

Suddenly I was tugged into a shop, my arm hurting from the force and my eyes blinking to adjust to the dim light as apposed to the bright morning light outside. I soon realized he had dragged me into a small shoe store.

"Brick?" I pressed, watching his back as he looked around.

"Can I help you?" Asked a young teenage girl who stared at us from behind her small counter. Her eyes were filled with a perplexed interest.

"We're looking for some tennis shoes, size…." Brick looked over at me, his face smiling his temptingly trustworthy smile.

"Eight," I muttered, a little shocked he had taken me to get shoes. "And I prefer flip-flops."

The teenage girl looked over at Brick as if for confirmation.

"She'll take tennis shoes," Brick offered his smile assuring the girl to listen to him and not me. "Thank you."

The girl disappeared into a back room where more shoes were stored and before I could snap at Brick for refusing to comply to my wants I was pushed against a small chair used during fittings. I stared up, shocked as Brick glared down at me.

"We can't go back to your car, okay?" he snapped. "It's pointless and I doubt it'd be in the condition to drive anyway. Anything that you left in there is probably gone anyway. So just forget about it."

I swallowed, feeling a bit miffed. My car…destroyed?! God, how was I supposed to help pay for my college if I had to buy another car? What if I couldn't get enough scholarships to cover it? What if-

"Will these do?" The girl asked and I looked over to see her holding an off-brand pair of white tennis shoes. On better observation I noticed all the shoes in the shops were off-brand and seemingly cheap.

"Perfect," Brick assured her. The girl moved to help me put them on my feet but Brick quickly grabbed them from her, sending her a wink when she stepped back in shock. "Thanks."

He then made a good show of kneeling in front of me, his eyes bright and his movements boisterous as if this were an everyday occurrence. The girl, seemingly convinced that she wasn't needed, stepped back and finally retreated towards her counter.

I used the privacy as an opportunity to keep pestering him.

"Why aren't we going to the police Brick?" I asked, ignoring his hand that was now gripping my dusty foot and pulling it to rest against his thigh as he knelt. Instead I focused on his face. His hazel eyes rose to meet mine.

"If that were and option, don't you think I would've done it already?" He seemed a bit insulted as if I'd questioned his intelligence and I just rolled my eyes.

Alright, so no police…

That sucked.

I tried to think of another plan as he slipped the plain shoe onto my foot with his free hand and then began to lace it. I frowned, my mind working quick but nothing else came to mind. If only I could get to my purse he was holding I could call my father. He'd know what to do. He'd help us out of whatever mess Brick had gotten me into.

I bit my lip and frowned.

"Why do I need tennis shoes?" I asked. "How are we going to get out of here? Are we just going to stay in this town forever?"

Brick looked up at me and his fingers drifted from the laces and brushed against the skin near my ankle. His fingertips were worn but only remained there for a second before pulled away, standing up and letting my foot fall out of his lap and back onto the ground.

"Perfect fit, we'll take them," Brick smiled at the girl who had been watching us with unmasked interest. I was shocked to realize I had forgotten she was there.

I shook my head and pulled on the other shoe, quickly lacing it up as Brick fished a few crumpled bills out of his pocket and gave them to the girl. I stood and pretended to look at the other shoes, trying to ignore the fact that I was actually waiting for him and not using this opportunity to run.

I had logical reasons for all of these actions, of course.

I just couldn't think of them right now.

"Have a good day!" The girl called to us, her voice amused. And before I could blink Brick had my wrist in his grip and I was being pulled back out onto the streets. It was easier to keep up with the shoes, I must admit.

After a few steps I quickened my pace so that I was walking in step with him. He looked over at me and smiled charmingly when I offered him a glare. I suddenly got the urge to yell, scream, fight, and pull away.

If I did that he might let go of me, nervous that I was drawing attention and then I could run. Run away from my captor.

But run to where?

No, whatever was going on and whatever danger I was in, my safest bet was sadly to stay near Brick. At least for now, until I could figure out what was going on.

My captor had strangely become my companion, if only for now.

"The tennis shoes," Brick breathed into my ear and I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. He had stepped over to walk closer to me in order to keep his voice low and his breath was hot against the edge of my ear and cheek. "Are in case you need to run."

I nodded my understanding, swallowing a bout of fear.

"And that," he pointed to a small car lot on the corner of the street. I followed his finger and caught sight of a slightly older blue car. "That is how we're getting out of here."

"Is that your car?" I asked, staring. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him smirk.

"Once we steal it, yes."

------

And that, Aurora Powerpunk, was for you

Sorry, everyone, that it took so long to update. If this is bad I'm very sorry, I do know where I'm basically going with this, I swear.

Thanks for remaining loyal and please review. It will get you another chapter even quicker ;-p

So please, please, please tell me what you think.