Run In
Faramir trudged out of his dorm and into the street, keeping his head down to stop the rain from getting into his eyes. It wasn't pouring like it had been only a few minutes earlier, the sky was merely drizzling now. He couldn't be late to class, so he had to hurry—he had a test.
He navigated the streets as best he could, trying not to trip over his untied shoelaces and fall on his face. He pushed his glasses up his nose, as they were threatening to fall off, and muttered a curse under his breath as he realized he'd smudged the lenses. Well, at least he hadn't gotten rain on them. Yet.
The books in his hands only got heavier and heavier and Faramir had to adjust his grip so they wouldn't all fall out. He hated that he had to walk so far to campus, but that had been the cheapest available lodging. He bitterly resented still, after two years of college, that his father wouldn't pay for both his tuition and lodging. Denethor certainly had enough money—and he had paid for his older brother Boromir's housing. But he supposed he was lucky enough to belong to a family rich enough to keep him out of too much debt, even if his father didn't love him as much as he should.
Every time the subject came up, Denethor always brought up Faramir's lack of skill in sports and music, both areas Boromir excelled in. He'd gotten a full-ride scholarship for football, and he'd been in school productions. Faramir had better grades, though, but book smarts wasn't enough for Denethor. Sometimes it seemed that nothing would be good enough for Denethor.
Faramir, absorbed in his thoughts, barely noticed where he was walking, using only his memory of the hundreds of days he had trudged along this path to class. His mind drifted from his father to the impending test. It was in history, his current major. He was beginning to doubt his choice of study, however. He was struggling in his classes. Perhaps he ought to switch to English, where he was getting better grades.
Faramir was so caught up in his worries that somehow he didn't notice the roar of the approaching vehicle in the middle of the street he was crossing. As he hurried across the rainswept pavement, two bright lights appeared to his left. He paid them no mind, until it was too late.
The motorcycle rammed right into him at a dreadful speed, knocking Faramir to the ground. he tumbled over, his books spilling open and getting soaked in the rain and muddy pavement. His glasses fell off his face, and suddenly he couldn't see.
He groaned, his face pressed into the gritty, wet road. His chest hurt, like he'd broken something, and he didn't feel like getting up ever again.
The roar of the motorcycle stopped abruptly, and he heard the sound of feet racing toward him. At least the biker had the decency to get off and see if he was okay, Faramir thought grumpily. Hopefully he wouldn't try to fine him for damage to the vehicle—God only knew what Denethor would say to that!
"Oh my God, are you alright?" a breathless voice said close to his ear. The biker grabbed him by the armpits and hauled him up into a sitting position. He was incredibly strong, Faramir noticed, his head still spinning from the impact.
He coughed. "Yeah—yeah, I'm good," he stammered, squinting in vain at the helmeted figure in front of him. "Just—my books, and my glasses..."
"I'm so sorry!" the biker apologized, grabbing Faramir's possessions out of the middle of the street. "I should have watched where I was going better—here's your glasses, I wiped them off."
Faramir took them gratefully and put them back on his face gently. His vision cleared and he could see the biker more clearly. It was in that moment that his attacker took his helmet off, revealing long golden hair, beautiful grey eyes, and also the fact that she was actually a woman.
He was glad he was still sitting down, because his knees went weak. God, she was gorgeous. He stammered out something incoherent, to which she gave him a puzzled look.
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked in concern. "You look like you're in pain."
He blushed. "No—yeah—I'm fine. I'll be fine."
"Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" she offered. "I hit you pretty hard." She brushed her hair out of her face, smiling nervously. Faramir's heart fluttered. "Oh," she added as an afterthought, "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Éowyn Eorl."
"Faramir Númen," he said, extending his hand for a shake. She grabbed and shook heartily. "And no," he added, "I'm fine." His ribcage still hurt, though, especially when he moved.
"Oh God, your books..." Éowyn noticed fretfully. "They're ruined!"
"It's all right," he assured. "My father's rich, he can buy me some more—"
Éowyn smiled apologetically. "Well, this is all my fault, Faramir Númen. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"
"It was just as much my fault as yours," he disagreed. "No, I can get everything taken care of. But thanks, Éowyn." He felt butterflies in his stomach—what he really wanted was her number, not an apology. She was hot, and nice even if she had accidentally hit him with her bike, and she seemed to really be concerned about his health. He wanted to be friends, irrationally—or maybe something else, too. But he didn't say anything, too shy.
"Well...all right then," she said reluctantly, getting to her feet. He hastily stood up as well, his arms full of ruined books. She strode off to her bike, putting her helmet back on, and was about to drive away when Faramir realized he was late to class—and to his test.
"Wait!" he called out. Éowyn turned and raised an eyebrow.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Actually—you can help me," he said. "I'm late to class, I've got a test—"
"Hop on," she said, comprehending quickly. She took off her helmet and tossed it to him as he hurried forward. "Put this on—just in case we crash into someone else."
He put the helmet on and climbed onto the motorcycle behind her, placing the books in his lap. The rain started up again, and he groaned under the weight of the sudden downpour. Poor Éowyn had given him her helmet and had no protection from the storm.
"Where to?" she shouted above the drenching rain.
He told her, and she nodded, revving her engine. "Hold on," she ordered him, and he hesitantly grabbed her around the waist so he wouldn't fall off. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He barely knew her, and here he was giving her a hug from behind! But it felt good, nonetheless.
Éowyn sped off, and he tightened his desperate hug, his heart pounding with fear and all thoughts of awkwardness gone. She did this for fun? It was terrifying!
He was greatly relieved when she stopped a few short minutes later outside his building. Faramir jumped off the bike as fast as he could. His ribs still hurt, even more after pressing the books between his chest and Éowyn's back, but he had no time to dwell on that now.
He took off Éowyn's helmet and handed it back to her, fumbling with his books. "Thanks for the ride," he said, half grateful, half hoping he never had to ride a motorcycle again.
"It's the least I can do," she said graciously. "Anyway, good luck on your test, Faramir!"
"Thanks," he said gratefully. He was about to turn away when she stopped him.
"And hey, if you do decide to go to the hospital later—" She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling on it. "Here's my number. In case you need my insurance."
Was it Faramir's imagination, or was she blushing pink a little? He took the folded up note. He smiled at her in thanks, but she had pulled her visor down and he couldn't see her expression.
"Bye!" he called out as she sped away. He was grinning like a dork—well, Boromir would affectionately say he was always a dork, so he was grinning like usual.
Faramir walked into class late, soaked, and breathless, but his professor allowed him to take the test once the circumstances had been explained. After it was all over, he unfolded Éowyn's note.
She had scribbled her number down first, then below it "for insurance". His eyes moved further along the paper and he grinned again. Below that, Éowyn had written, "or for coffee. you're kinda cute. wanna hang?"
As he entered her number into his phone, he grinned all the wider. He was glad for what was possibly a broken rib after all. It looked as if he had gotten a date.
He wouldn't even say no to another wild motorcycle ride.