Shy

by Snel_Hest

Inauspicious Beginnings

The first time you see her, it doesn’t even seem like it’s anything special.

You’re heading home from campus, into the parking lot to find the threadbare car that is any student’s trusty steed, and she’s there by the bus stop.

She’s wearing a dull yellow sweater, ridiculously oversized for her, so that it covers her down to mid-thigh, with jeans under that. The sweater seems to hide almost everything about her, aside from the most striking bright blue eyes, only a hint of which can be seen behind a wealth of shining brown hair.

She looks a bit confused, and that’s the only reason you stop to talk.

‘Is everything alright?’ You ask, and she looks a bit startled, turning around to make sure you aren’t talking to anyone else. Had there been anyone else around, you’re reasonably sure that she would never respond, but since you could only be talking to her, she hesitates for a moment, and then speaks.

‘Er.. yes, I’m just not familiar with this area.’ She only barely looks up as she says it, and you catch a glimpse of those bright eyes before they fall back to her feet. That’s all, for a moment.

‘I’m... not really comfortable in new places.’ She finishes.

You smile at her, and she smiles back, a bit uncertainly.

‘It’s just the campus, there’s nothing scary here, I promise, at least during the day.’ For a moment she looks frightened, but when you laugh, she catches on, and smiles again. More certainly now.

‘If it helps, you can always use the security call buttons around everywhere.’ You point to one of the bright yellow poles with a light on top. ‘They set off the light and security will come right up to help.’

‘Oh!’ This is the first bit of excitement she shows, ‘Thank you.’ You’d swear that anyone else would be mocking you, but the amount of sincerity in her voice immediately rules it out.

‘I’m just waiting for my boyfriend.’ She says, ‘He told me to wait here for when he’d finished classes, and then he would come pick me up in the car, but it’s already been twenty minutes, and he hasn’t shown. I’m starting to get worried. I don’t really know how to get home from here, and everyone is new and it’s a bit frightening.’

The words spill out quickly. You get the sense she isn’t entirely used to engaging with people, but she sounds so genuine that it’s hard not to empathize with her. You smile again.

‘Would you like some company for a bit?’ You offer, ‘No pressure, but I’m in no hurry, and I could probably stand for a good deed today.’ It’s a genuine offer, no ulterior motives. You know some guys might use the circumstances to their advantage, but you’ve always found that a bit pathetic.

‘Um, ok. I guess that would be alright.’ She pauses, and then actually volunteers a smile, no hesitancy now. ‘You don’t seem so scary.’

‘I’m on vacation.’ You quip. She laughs this time.

She might have initially seemed apprehensive, but now that you’ve made clear you’re no harm, she turns out to be a good conversationalist. She’s definitely a bit shy, but she genuinely seems interested in everything you have to say, even though it’s just stories to keep her entertained. She doesn't volunteer much, but given the fact that you’re a stranger, that’s not surprising, and you never press.

After a few minutes, she looks around and something catches her eye.

‘Oh! That’s his car.’ She points to a bright red, older model sports car. The exact kind of vehicle someone who wanted to look rich would drive, you think, but don’t say. You've never met the guy, no sense in judging him.

‘Alright, I’ll see you around some time.’ You say, and wave to her.

‘I hope so!’ again, completely genuine, and she waves back, ‘Thanks for the company!’

You turn and walk away. Maybe you’d never see the girl again, but even so, her genuine enthusiasm and positivity seem to have improved your day. You dig in your pocket for your car keys and head to where you parked, enjoying a fine sunny day with a good deed done, as the red car pulls up to the curb and a door opens.

‘Who’s he?’ You hear the abrasive voice call out, and for a second, you hope that it isn’t the guy in the red car, but somehow, you already know it is. You can’t hear her response, but you can tell he isn’t too pleased with it.

He’d have to be the jealous type.

You sigh. You’d like to point out that you’re no one, just being friendly, but it’s not like stepping back into that conversation would have any positive effect. Best to just stay out of it.

‘You just go around chatting up random guys as soon as my back is turned?’ A pause ‘What do you mean you ‘don’t know him’ you were just talking to him!’

You grit your teeth. Staying out is the best course, but definitely not the most pleasant one. You get to your car and open the door, preparing to step in when you hear the unmistakable sound of a loud slap. You turn around.

The guy is standing outside of his red car with the door open, and he’s holding one of her arms with an iron grip, but she’s turned away, staring at the ground. He raises his hand again.

‘Now who is this guy, huh? You tell me the truth now!’

You still can’t hear anything she’s said, but you’re moving back towards them. The pace is set, determined. He slaps her again just before you reach them, and she falls to the ground.

You’re not, by nature, a violent person, but you came from the country and your mama taught you what was right, and this ain’t it.

You only hit him the once, but once was probably enough, with the way your fist catches him just under the chin and splays him out on the ground, unconscious. A lesser man in that kind of anger might have hit him again, but you reign your temper back in. You hear someone calling in security on the emergency poles, but don’t pay any attention as you look back to her.
She’s got tears in her eyes, and a bright red mark on one side of her face. The giant yellow sweater is torn open, and you can see bruises on her upper arms, not fresh, but older. You can feel the muscles in your jaw work, but you’re not trying to grind your teeth. You let out a controlled breath and look to her.

‘Are you ok?’ You ask, but before she answers, you can’t help but follow, ‘I’m really sorry about this, I just… don’t take well to that sort of behaviour.’

‘I’m ok. I think. I guess.’ She says, a bit shocked. ‘But it’s ok.’ She doesn’t hesitate with the last part. She curls up in a ball after that, her arms around her knees, holding the sweater to her, and pointedly not looking at him. You lean against the car and let out another breath. So much for a good day, you concede – not that you’d want to have done anything differently, except maybe getting there earlier.

Security doesn’t take long to arrive. Fortunately, the now-unconscious man’s statements had been audible to everyone around, well outside the car park, and there are more than a few people that are willing to back up what you did.
They talk to her a bit longer, and she explains exactly what took place. The bruises on her arms seem to affect the security guards as much as they do you. That, and the fact that everyone else supported the story seems to mollify them. They still note you up for an assault, but one of them pats you on the shoulder anyway, and says that you’ve got a textbook case of self-defense in favour of another, and that they’ll attest to it.

An ambulance arrives and takes the unconscious man away, security finishes their questions, and shortly everything returns back to a semblance of normalcy.

Except she’s still standing there, but now in a torn sweater with her face hidden entirely behind her hair. She turned down a ride to the hospital, saying she was fine, and the paramedics gave her the ok. It seemed pretty obvious that she didn’t want to go anywhere with that guy.

You walk up to her again.

‘Um. Do you want me to call you a cab? I know you said you don’t really know where you are, but you can give them your address, and they’ll know where to go.’

She shakes her head, bright blue eyes rimmed in red now.

‘I really don’t want to have to deal with new people right now. I’m… um, not good with them at the best of times, and this... isn’t exactly… the best of times.’ She sniffs. ‘Could I… would it be too much trouble if you gave me a ride?’

You’re a bit surprised, given the bout of violence just before, but you certainly couldn’t turn her down like this, so you nod your assent and direct her to your car, opening the door for her.

‘You’ll have to excuse the mess.’ You joke and she smiles weakly, but really, it’s not that bad, just books and old clothes. A clean sweater sits folded in the back, and you see her staring at it, holding the tatters of her own sweater together with still slightly shaking hands.

‘Take it, I never wear it anyway.’ That’s a minor lie, but she probably needs it more than you do right now. Besides, it’s fall, you’ll be fine.

The drive isn’t so bad. She directs you on a main road out and relaxes more and more as you move away from the city. By the time you hit farmland, she start to take on a certain serenity. There still isn’t much conversation, but she loses some of the tension and discomfort.

She’s clearly not a city girl, you think, and that’s only solidified when she directs you down a long gravel driveway, which leads up to an old house with a dozen pens and a small barn behind it. The sign says that it’s a shelter for animals, and judging from the pens, this is not limited to standard domestic fare, but when she gets out of the car and just pats an animal –is that a wolf?!- on the head, you realize this is more where she belongs. You see her to the door, just out of old-fashioned courtesy, but it doesn’t bother her.

‘Listen,’ you say, ‘I’m not trying to be forward here, but here’s my number, if you need anything, or have any kind of… trouble.’ You don’t have to mention the guy in the red car, but you can tell she understands. She accepts the number as well, and you can tell that she knows you’re not trying to hit on her. Something in those eyes just tells you she’d know.

‘Thank you so much.’ She says, ‘I’ll call you if I need anything, I promise.’

And you know she will, she’s not the kind to use empty words.

‘Oh, you must think I’m so rude, I haven’t introduced myself after all of that.’

You’re not quite sure where she’d get that opinion, given the way the day has gone so far, but she says it with such sincerity, you find you can’t interject.

‘My name is Cheyenne, but everyone just calls me Shy.’