Throwing Away What He Had

A black sports car drove past me, but a few seconds later, it turned back and headed toward me.

The window rolled down, and the person inside said, "It's the middle of the night. I thought I saw a ghost."

The voice sounded familiar, but I didn't have the mental energy to figure out who it was.

I ignored him and kept walking. Just then, a sudden honk startled me, so I stumbled and fell to the ground. I simply stayed sitting on the ground, not getting up.

A figure blocked the streetlight in front of me. As I looked up into the light, everything in front of me was a blur.

A tall figure crouched down, and I finally saw who it was.

It was Xander Jenkins, a friend of Tricia's ex-boyfriend.

We had run into each other a few times when I went out with Tricia. He rarely spoke, and I could never hold a conversation either. Thus, we'd never really talked before.

I was shivering, and the tears on my face had dried into streaks that stung in the wind.

"Can you get up?" Xander asked.

I shook my head.

He clicked his tongue softly and tried to pull me by my hat.

I buried my head between my knees and shouted with unexpected strength, "Leave me alone!"

Xander's hand lifted from my back, and all movements stilled.

I cried harder and harder, my sobs shaky because of the winter chill.

Suddenly, a warm and faintly scented jacket landed on my head, shielding me from the wind.

After a while, Xander couldn't take it anymore and said, "Can you cry in the car? I'm kind of freezing too."

I peeked out from under the jacket and saw him standing there, arms crossed and looking helpless.

Xander helped me up and shoved me into the passenger seat.

The sudden warmth inside the car made me sneeze several times. He didn't say anything and just handed me some tissues.

In the silence, I heard his fingers rhythmically tapping the steering wheel. It was a habit similar to Chris's, but not quite the same.

Chris's frustration could be felt whenever he did it, but Xander tapped at a steady pace. It seemed almost like he was deep in thought, or perhaps trying to soothe me.

After a long time, I finally calmed down and looked at him, saying sincerely, "Thank you."

He glanced at me, then turned away and pulled out a cigarette from its box.

However, he put it away before he even lit it.

"It's late. Let me drive you home," he offered.

…

When we reached my place, I thanked him again as I got out of the car.

"Yara," he called through the open window. "You really do look like a ghost right now."

I thought that was a strange thing to say, but when the window rolled up, I finally saw my face in its reflection.

My makeup was smudged, my hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under my eyes.

It was no wonder Xander stopped the car—I really did look like a ghost.

I turned and ran, only to run into someone downstairs who shouldn't have been there.

Chris, who was supposed to be working late, stared at me. His tone was ice-cold as he asked, "Yara, who's the guy in the luxury car who just dropped you off?"