I was busy cleaning shot glasses when it started, a simple 'no' was said in Sam's sweet voice, and then an overreaction and I was over the counter and on top of some bloke faster than you could blink.
"Lara, no!" I barely heard Sam's voice over the sounds of skin hitting skin over and over again. I knew it would hurt my knuckles the morning, but I didn't care. No one lays a finger on Sam. His face was red and bloodied but I was pulled off of him before I could do anything serious, I would have, too. One of the security guards pulled me off the bastard and threw me out. I wouldn't lose my job though, I've worked there for years, everyone loves me there.
Sam ran out after me and drove us back to our loft, looking over to my hands in distress the whole car ride home.
"You didn't have to do that, you know." Her voice was quiet and soft.
"He could have hurt you." Mine was much different, it was harsh and raspy.
She didn't reply, she just kept driving. We didn't live far away, but the car ride home seemed like forever. She only spoke when we pulled into the parking garage.
"You don't have to save me all the time, you know. I'm not a little kid I can take care of myself." She sounded angry. Why was she angry?
"That guy was twice your size, Sam, he could have carried you off and I wouldn't ever see you again."
We sat in silence for about five minutes. I scratched the dried blood off my hands, trying not to look at Sam.
"I guess you're right. I was stupid for even arguing about it. Let's clean you up, you're covered in blood." Her final words were far from mad, she seemed glad actually.
We walked out of the garage and to the loft, where Sam dropped the keys multiple times while trying to open the door. I was just about to do it myself when she finally got it open and we stepped inside. "It's kinda cold in here, don't you think?" She turned on the lights and I nodded, still looking for cuts on my knuckles.
Stuff like this used to happen all the time in boarding school and college. I couldn't control it, though. It just happened like an instinct. Any time any guys got too close to Sam I would get extremely jealous. I don't know why, though, I'm straight as a board; I've never had feelings for any other women, let alone Sam. Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts, "Hey sweetie, where's the rubbing alcohol?" I pointed her to the cabinet where we keep medical supplies, and moments later she came in with literally all of the cabinet's contents. Oh god, what am I going to do with you, Sam.
"It's a bloody knuckle Sam, not a bullet wound."
She giggled, I have to admit, it was very cute. Fuck, no it wasn't, it's just like her other meaningless giggles, right?
"I know, I just want to play doctor for once, give me your hands so I can dump this bottle all over them." She held up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and took my hands into hers. God, her hands were soft. No, Lara, get ahold of yourself. Her hands are not soft and you need to quit it with all this. She dabbed the alcohol on my knuckles, it stung but it wasn't enough to bring me to tears.
"Damn, I would be bawling on the floor right now if I were you."
"I'm getting there. Are you almost done?"
"Yeah, let me wrap your hands and you can go fight another random guy at a bar."
I kicked her and she giggled again. It only took her a couple minutes to wrap my hands, and she jogged off to put everything away. Her wrapping job was sloppy, but I didn't complain. We ended up sitting on the couch watching movies that night, and her just lying next to me tied knots in my stomach.