Page 8 of A Minute Past Midnight

“I feel cheated.”

I turned to see Samir leaning against the building, one hand in his slacks as he looked at his timepiece. “I still got two minutes left, Cinderella.”

I smirked. “You do know that two minutes isn't a lot of time before my glass slipper turns into a house shoe, right?”

He chuckled and walked over to me. “Good thing I caught you before it does. Where you headed?”

“Home . . .”

“But?”

“No buts,” I lied. There was a but, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to finish the statement. I should not have been thinking about leaving with this man. I didn't have time to play around when I could be homeless come Monday.

Samir’s eyes bore into me before he stepped even closer and rubbed his thumb across my cheek, then down the length of my neck.

“How spontaneous are you?”

“Wha-I-what do you mean?”

“I’m sure you're a smart woman. The night is still young for me, and I really don't want to be alone tonight.”

“I'm not that kind of girl, sir,” I said, trying to show some decorum.

“I didn't peg you as that kind of girl. Even if you were, we're both adults. I just want to get to know you, and since you're leaving, I was hoping it would be with me.”

“I don't even know you.”

“True. I don't know you either. You could be a serial killer.”

We both laughed.

“Could be. What if I am?”

“I can protect myself, baby. But I get the feeling you're harmless.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Harmless.”

“What does your gut tell you?”

I thought about it for a moment. Something told me he wasn’t a psycho or weirdo. I could see something in his eyes, behind the lust, that truly just wanted someone to talk to. I wasn't a mind reader, but his eyes sort of matched my own, which told me there was also sadness resting beyond them.

What the hell, Juliana. It's only one night, and you have your trusty mace and pocketknife if his ass gets ignorant.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Take a ride with me. You can take a picture of my license and license plate to send to your people for safety measures.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out his license. He handed it to me, and I took the picture. Although I had no one to send it to, I pretended while he waited patiently. I sent up a prayer for protection, hoping that Big Sandals got the message.

“You good?” Samir asked.

I nodded. “I am.”

“Good.” He held his hand out to me. “Let’s forget about yesterday’s problems, tonight’s troubles, and hope, after tonight, we’ll have a better tomorrow.”

“Okay.”