Sorry... Sorry... Sorry

~Dorla

The city lights blurred past my windshield as I drove way too fast, hands shaking on the steering wheel.

My chest felt like it was being crushed. I couldn’t go home like this, not yet. My father would ask too many questions and I would break out in tears while answering them, I can't let that happen after he warned me in the morning.

I swerved into the parking lot of the first bar I saw immediately I noticed I was driving nonsense and at this stage, accident was bound to happen.

I ordered shot after shot.

My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Another twenty missed calls from Jason. Over ten from Lila.

Was that what she was trying to warn me about? Fuck. How long had Alyssa and Jason been hooking up behind my back? How long had that bitch been smiling in my face while fucking my boyfriend?

I stared at the six empty bottles lined up in front of me, the world starting to tilt. A stupid, broken smile spread across my lips. I felt numb. Good. That was the point.

I tried to stand up, but my legs betrayed me. I staggered, lost my balance, and crashed to the sticky floor.

“Sorry…” I whispered to no one in particular, giggling softly like an idiot. “So sorry…”

A pair of expensive shoes appeared in my blurry vision.

“What’s a hottie like you doing on the floor?” Strong hands grabbed my arms and pulled me up. I swayed dangerously, trying to focus on the stranger’s face.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, attempting to step away.

But he didn’t let go. His hands slid around my waist, pulling me closer.

“Come on, baby. Let’s book a room upstairs. We can spend the night and have some real fun…”

Even through the alcohol haze, disgust cut through me. I yanked his hands off my waist and slapped him hard across the face, the sound sharp over the music.

“Get the fuck off me!”

The guy stumbled back, eyes wide with shock and anger.

“Who the hell do you think you are to touch me?” The words had barely left my mouth when another voice rang out from a nearby table.

“Isn’t that the daughter of De Luca?” Heads turned. The entire bar seemed to freeze for a second.

A man with a long, ugly scar running down the side of his face leaned forward, eyes gleaming with greed. He looked like the leader of the gang, tattoos crawling up his neck, cold smile spreading slowly across his ugly irritating face.

“This is a golden opportunity, boys. Grab her.”

I snatched an empty bottle from the counter and hurled it at them. It shattered against the table as I spun and bolted for the exit, heart hammering.

I reached the parking lot, fumbling desperately for my Porsche keys. My fingers shook so badly I could barely grip them. Where the hell was that wristband Arnold gave me? It must have slipped off when that creep grabbed me inside. Oh God, I'm screwed.

Before I could get the door open, rough hands grabbed me from behind and shoved me hard. I hit the ground rolling, asphalt scraping my knees and palms. The keys skittered away into the darkness.

“You’ll regret this, trust me,” I spat, trying to push myself up.

The scarred man stepped closer, licking his lips. “You’ll pay for your father’s sins, little bitch. Come to think of it… she’s so fucking beautiful and”

He never finished the sentence when a stone hit his forehead.

Then Arnold appeared out of nowhere. The first attacker swung at him, Arnold dodged with terrifying ease and drove his elbow into the man’s throat.

Anold grabbed his arm, twisted it with a sickening crack, and slammed his face first into the side of my car.

The scarred leader pulled a knife. Arnold didn’t even flinch. He disarmed him in one fluid motion, then delivered a brutal punch that dropped the man like a sack of stones.

The rest of them scattered or went down just as fast. In seconds it was over.

He turned to me, not a scratch on him. Without a word, he scooped me up into his strong arms like I weighed nothing. My head fell against his broad chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat the only sound cutting through my spinning world.

He carried me to his matte black motorcycle parked nearby, set me gently on the seat, and climbed on in front.

“Hold on,” he ordered.

I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back as the engine roared to life. We shot off into the night at full speed, wind whipping my hair.

Behind us, headlights flared, the survivors had jumped into a black SUV and were giving chase.

Arnold weaved through traffic like a ghost, cutting sharp corners, accelerating harder. The low fuel warning light suddenly blinked on the dash.

He cursed under his breath and pushed the bike even faster, losing them for a few precious seconds by slicing through narrow alleys.

Then the engine sputtered, the fuel was exhausted.

Right across the street sat a quiet, upscale hotel.

Arnold killed the engine and turned to me. “Can you walk?”

I shook my head, I was intentionally dramatic. “No… I can’t.”

He didn’t argue. He simply lifted me onto his back, my arms looping around his neck, legs around his waist.

I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder as he carried me straight through the hotel lobby without slowing down.

He kept my face tucked against his neck, one large hand gently shielding the side of my head so the receptionist couldn’t get a clear look at me.

His voice was calm and authoritative as he spoke to her. “Suite on the top floor. One night. Cash, keep the change.”

He slid a thick stack of bills across the counter before she could ask for ID or a card. The woman barely had time to nod before he was already heading for the private elevator, still carrying me like I weighed nothing.

The ride up was silent except for my drunken breathing against his chest.

When the doors opened, he walked us into the luxurious suite and finally set me down on the edge of the king sized bed. The room was beautiful, soft lighting, floor to ceiling windows, and a massive marble bathroom visible through the open door.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” he said quietly, his dark eyes scanning my face. “Go take a bath. It’ll help clear your head.”

I blinked up at him, still a little dizzy. “What about you?”

“I’ll stay out here and keep watch to make sure no one traced us here. I need to be sure we’re safe.”

He turned to leave the room, but I sighed heavily, the weight of the entire night crashing down on me again.

The bathroom was heaven. I filled the deep tub with hot water, stripped off my ruined red dress, and sank in slowly.

The steam and silence helped dull the sharp pain in my chest. Jason. Alyssa. The betrayal played on repeat in my head, but the alcohol and exhaustion made everything feel distant and fuzzy.

I stayed in there longer than I meant to, letting the water soothe my scraped knees and raw emotions.

When I finally stepped out, dripping wet and completely naked, Arnold was just walking back into the suite.

Our eyes locked.

For a split second, neither of us moved.

He froze in the doorway, his gaze darkening as it swept over my bare body before he quickly looked away, jaw clenched tight.

“I’ll… stay outside,” he said, voice rougher than before, already turning toward the door.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, surprising even myself.

I reached for the thick white towel on the rack and wrapped it around my body, tucking it loosely above my breasts. The fabric barely covered me, stopping high on my thighs.

Arnold hesitated, then stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him.

He didn’t come closer, but he didn’t leave either.

His eyes flicked back to me, just for a moment taking in the way the towel clung to my wet skin, the droplets still running down my collarbone.

“Dorla…” His voice was low, almost a warning.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

His dark eyes stayed on me, unreadable. “Care to explain why you were at the bar?”

I let out a small, bitter laugh and walked over to the large mirror above the dresser, pretending to check my reflection. The alcohol haze had finally lifted, leaving behind a dull headache and the sharp sting of reality.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” I shot back, wiping a stray droplet of water from my collarbone.

He didn’t reply. When I glanced at him through the mirror, he was still watching me, quiet, intense, arms crossed over his broad chest.

I turned around slowly, the towel still wrapped tightly around my body.

“Well… I caught my boyfriend fucking my best friend,” I said, the words tasting like acid. “On my way to surprise him for his birthday with the car I begged my dad to get him. I was cheated on. Fooled. And I was stupid enough to believe every lie he told me.”

My voice cracked on the last part.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until hot tears spilled down my cheeks, fast and unstoppable. I tried to swipe them away, but more kept coming.

The betrayal I’d been drowning in alcohol suddenly felt too raw.

Arnold’s jaw tightened. He took one slow step closer, then stopped himself, like he was fighting some invisible chain.

“Dorla…” His voice came out low and rough, almost gentle. “That piece of shit didn’t deserve you.”

I laughed through the tears, shaky and broken. “Yeah? Tell that to the girl who just watched her best friend riding her boyfriend like it was nothing.”

He stood there, fists clenched at his sides, looking like he wanted to say more or maybe wanted to break something. But he didn’t move any closer.

And I couldn’t stop the tears.

I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “I was so stupid… I bought him a car, Arnold. A fucking Ferrari. While he was busy screwing my best friend behind my back. I trusted them both. How could I be so blind? I’m such an idiot…”

“Dorla.” His voice was sharp.

Before I could say another word, Arnold stepped forward again and cupped my cheek with rough, forceful fingers. He tilted my face up until my teary eyes met his dark ones.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, low and firm. “None of it.”

His thumb gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, slow and careful.

Something inside me broke. I rose on my toes and pressed a soft, trembling peck to his lips.

For half a second, nothing happened. Then Arnold kissed me back, hard.

His mouth claimed mine with raw hunger, one hand gripping my waist tightly while the other tangled in my wet hair.

The kiss was desperate, deep, and consuming. My towel loosened and started slipping down my body.

Suddenly he froze. He pulled away like I’d burned him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, breathing raggedly. “Sorry… sorry.”

He said it three times before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Arnold!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop.

I stood there frozen, lips throbbing. I bit down hard until I tasted blood.

Gosh… I’m such a disaster.