Angela's POV
I didn't know what was happening anymore as I closed my eyes, when suddenly his grip loosened on my neck.
I saw Ian fall. It seemed that while Ian was focused on me, Aaron attacked him from behind. Ian tumbled to the floor, letting out a moan of pain. Aaron rained punches on him.
I coughed, my lungs burning for a real breath. My knees gave out, and I dropped to the floor. Ian... he was going under Aaron's blows, one after another.
Aaron finally stopped when Ian was helpless. He approached, his gaze filled with worry. “Angela, hey... are you okay?”
I managed only a weak nod. No words came out. The world spun too fast, too terrifying to bear. Aaron pulled me into his arms, like he knew what I needed. "I'm sorry... I should've been here sooner."
His warmth hit me like a lifeline, steadying the storm inside. I shook, pressing into his chest, tears soaking his shirt, all the fear I'd been bottling up finally spilling out. He didn’t say much—didn’t have to. I was so damn glad he was here. I couldn't even imagine what would've happened if he hadn't shown up.
He finally pulled back. Wrapped his jacket around me in one swift move. “Let's get out of here."
God, the way he looked at me... warm, steady, almost too much to take. And that's what scared me. If he ever found out the truth, would that look still be there? Or would it disappear, just like that?
“Angela." His voice had a hint of worry, dragging me out of my thoughts. “We should get going.”
Aaron helped me up, his hand steady at my waist. As we left the art room, I caught sight of Ian, lying there, helpless. My chest tightened as I remembered how close I had come, but Aaron took my hand, his fingers holding mine and somehow giving me the strength.
The way he cared made my eyes sting. It was warm, genuine... he treated me like I was so precious to him. When we reached the school entrance, Aaron walked me to the front of the car. My driver was already waiting.
“Thank you, Aaron,” I said.
“You need to get checked out," he said.
I shook my head slowly, "No need. I'm fine. Resting at home is enough for me. But, your wound..." I glanced at his battered face.
"Don't worry. I'm fine." He touched his mouth with a wince but still offered me a smile. “Make sure you get your wound treated when you get home.”
He opened my car door and waited until I was settled before closing it quietly.
I watched him wave his hand through the window. Guilt gnawed at me for leaving him like that. Immediately, I opened my car window. “Aaron,” I called out.
"Come with me. I'll take you home," I said. I knew he was taking the school bus, but the school bus had long since left because of our late exit.
Aaron fell silent, his face unreadable. When his eyes met mine, there was a flicker of hesitation. He wasn't the type to ask for help, not even when it mattered.
“Hey,” I said firmly. “You're not going home alone, not like this."
Finally he nodded, and a faint smile crossed his battered lips. “All right,” he said.
My heart pounded the moment he sank down beside me. Seeing him up close knocked the air out of my chest. His face was battered, bruises dark against his skin, and blood at the corner of his mouth. The sight of it made my throat tighten.
I couldn't stop myself. My hand lifted on its own, fingertips brushing his cheek as gently as I could. He winced, a reminder of how much pain he was in, and guilt twisted hard inside me.
“Does it hurt that much?”
"I'm fine. You don't have to worry so much," he told me gently.
My driver suddenly interrupted our conversation. “Where to, Miss?"
“We're going home first,” I replied.
“Okay, Miss,” the driver replied before starting the car.
"Aaron, you need to come to my house first. I'll treat your wound."
"No need. It's just a small cut, it'll be fine."
I let out a sharp sigh, fed up with how damn stubborn he was. “Aaron Carter!” I snapped. "Your wound could get infected if you keep ignoring it. I'm going to treat you, no arguments. And don't bother throwing me any more excuses."
The car pulled up to my house a moment later. I got out fast and guided Aaron through the door.
“Sit here,” I said, pointing to the dark brown leather sofa in the living room. “I'll get the first aid kit.”
Aaron just gave a short nod. I hurried into the kitchen, straight to the bottom drawer by the sink where the first aid kit was always kept. My fingers yanked it open, relief hitting me when I saw the white box with the red cross.
When I came back, he was still on the couch, silent. I dropped to my knees in front of him and flipped the kit open on the table. "This might sting a little," I warned, dipping the cotton swab into the antiseptic.
I started cleaning the cut on his cheek. My hands shook more than I wanted them to and the closeness made it impossible to ignore his breath brushing against my face.
“Why'd you have to be so reckless?” I muttered, finally breaking the silence. “Ian could have done worse to you.”
“If it meant I could protect you,” he said softly. “It was worth it.”
“You don't have to do any of this for me,” I whispered, pressing the bandage on the wound on his brow. "Look at you now. You got hurt because of me."
I looked up at him, and he gave me a faint smile. "I'm fine. These bruises don't mean a thing. What matters is that you're safe."
I froze. The second our eyes met, the rest of the world faded.
His fingers wrapped around my wrist. I flinched, air catching in my throat. It wasn't harsh, just steady in a way that pinned me in place.
“Aaron...”