Stairs

Cyrus First Person Point Of view

I could feel him wondering why I was sitting by myself on the stairs.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally, his tones softer than they had sounded all day, though unmistakably concerned.

I quickly nodded, lowering my eyes to my hands. Tightness seized my throat, making me swallow hard.

"Missed the bus?" he persisted, towering over me with one hand shoved far into his pocket and the other tapping his keys.

I paused before I answered.

I wasn't sure what to do.

My father had planned to arrive and pick me up, but the prospect of having to tell Derick what had occurred seemed somehow utterly frightening.

I wasn't used to explaining myself, especially to someone like him.

Derick dropped to his knees next to me, tipping his face toward mine.

He furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes slanting suspiciously and his voice taking a deeper, more ominous quality.

Come now, no need for lies. What are you doing here all alone today?

I shifted uncomfortably, my muscles tensing under his questioning eyes.

"I." My words struggled out, barely above a whisper.

My father is supposed to pick me up.

Derick blinked in obvious surprise.

Then he tipped his head slightly, his eyebrows raising.

"Your dad?" He sounded almost disbelieving.

"He's leaving you here this long?"

I nodded, my heart pounding uncontrollably.

A thrill of unease ran down my spine as Derick's scowl intensified.

"Call him," Derick said, expressionless, forcing himself back up onto his feet.

His voice allowed for no argument. "Now."

I paused, fingers fiddling nervously with my phone. "I—he said he would be coming."

But Derick's eyes darkened. He stepped closer, his voice growing firmer.

"Call him. If he's coming, he can tell me himself."

My stomach twisted with fear as I tried to open my phone, Derick's large frame looming over me.

My mind was all jumbled. Trembling in fear, I looked for my father's phone number and hit call.

The phone rang twice before my father's deep voice came through. "Cyrus? I'll make one last stop, wait a bit."

I was speechless, words evading me. However, Derick bent, quickly grabbing the phone from my hand, his voice lowering but never losing that distinctive tone of authoritative confidence.

"Hello, Mr. J'Nott," he asked, modulating his voice slightly

He is a school teacher. Is it indeed the case that you are going to pick up your son?

There was a moment's silence until my father broke it with a tone that had a trace of suspicion.

Actually, I'm already on my way.

Derick didn't miss a beat.

Anyway, school's dismissing, and I'd be more than happy to bring him home to save you from making the trip.

He stared down at me, his eyes unreadable as he awaited my response.

My father hesitated, then agreed.

Alright, inform Cyrus to come back home safely. I will contact the principal.

My heart dropped. To my surprise, he agreed. I had barely processed this when Derick handed the phone back to me, his eyes fixed strongly on mine.

Go ahead. Tell them that you are with me.

I grasped the phone, my own voice shaking and weak.

"Dad, I'll, uh. go with the teacher."

"Good," he said.

Thank you for being cautious, and I'll call you when I get home.

The call ended suddenly with a click.

I stared at the blank screen, dread pooling in my stomach.

My dad said he would call the principal. What am I supposed to tell them?

"Never ridden a bike, have you?" Derick's voice broke into my daydream and returned me to reality.

I looked up at him, my breath momentarily stopped in my throat. "No."

Derick's mouth curled into a weak smile, though it yielded no hint of amusement.

This is your time.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Derick wasn't having it.

He grabbed my arm firmly but not harshly, guiding me toward his motorcycle.

You are getting on, Cyrus," he said, his voice making it clear that there were no arguments.

I will never leave you.

I stared at the bike, my heart racing in my chest. The prospect of getting onto it, clinging to Derick as he took off, terrified me.

"I—I cannot believe—"

"Don't worry, you'll be alright," he said reassuringly, swinging his leg easily over the bike.

I've got you.

He held out a helmet, and I stood there frozen. His words kept echoing in my ears—the principal, the pressure, the fear that I might spoil it all.

But for that brief moment, Derick's eyes came back to mine, and his expression eased slightly.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice for a moment losing its normal commanding bite.

I took a deep breath and finally nodded and fastened the helmet. Trembling in my hands, I mounted the bike behind him. There was just no other option for me.

Derick started the engine, its low rumble vibrating within my chest as I wrapped my arms around his waist, my hands finding the firmness of his muscles under my palms.

My heart beat faster than the engine's roar, and I had no option but to hold on tight. Derick gave me a final glance in my direction and shifted into gear, and I wished desperately that my father had not noticed.

The hot blast whipped through my flesh, seeping through my clothing, as Derick sped down the highway, causing shivers to rush through my frame.