I Yearn for You, My Alexandria

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ng against a wall, a lukewarm beer in his hand, scanning the crowd with a practiced, bored disdain. The party was a circus of id

ng bodies and down the hall. The first bathroom was occupied, the door locked. Annoyed,

was sligh

the scene inside brough

sture was gone, replaced by a fragile slump. Her head was bowed, her dark hair curtaining her face. But it was what was ne

y sweet, cloying even from the doorway-rum and cheap fruit punch, a concoction

t trick. He'd

sharp, cutting through the

sed. She blinked at him, confusion warring with her ingrained hosti

room and kicked the door shut behind him with a backward thrust of his boo

" he demanded, nodd

oticing it. "S'my drink. A nice... a nice boy gave it to me. To

unter before her unsteady hand could close around it. He brought it to his nose

ther, slumped in a chair, a glass in her hand, a stranger leer

her stupid, or the situation, or the ghost of his own past. He turned and dumped

akly, her shoulders slu

ink-it all evaporated into meaningless noise. This was different. This wa

es widened, a flicker of fear cutting through the drunken haze. "You don't take drinks from people at parties. Ever. You don't le

t the intent was... different. It was furious, but it wasn't aimed at

she whispered, but the tremo

ht." He straightened up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The fight was gone

inctively, his arm went around her waist to steady her. She was light, and she leaned into him, her head lolling against his shoul

He ignored the stares, the raised eyebrows. Let them talk. He half-walked, ha

truce was called. An understanding, born of shared fury at an outside threat and the shocking, inconvenient realiza

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ria unceremoniously into the passenger seat, his movements all rough efficiency. The moment he pulle

drink. Angry at himself for giving a damn. Angry at her for being so dam

ther side of the car. She was curled against the door, her forehead pr

f the accelerator a fraction. The last thi

world was still spin

und raw and panicked, her hand fu

re-" he started, b

need for distance sent her stumbling out onto the gravel shoulder. She didn't even make it two steps before she pi

ched on the wheel, listening to the ragged, miserable sounds she made. He let out a long, slow breath

etic soundtrack to the scene. He walked around the front of the Camaro. She was on her hands and knees, ha

a tire iron and an old jacket, and found a half-empty bo

he nudged her shoulder with his boot. No

g up at him with wat

flat. He unscrewed the ca

r mouth and spitting the water onto the grou

slowly, painfully, got to her feet. She was a mess-pale, shaky,

e leaving no room for argument. "A

ement, and shuffled back to the passenger side, collaps

time. He just put the car in drive and pulled away slowly, the Camaro's powerful engine purring at a docile, unfamiliar hum. The war was still there, w