I'll say this once— I don't like being saved from situations I could easily handle.
This one, for instance.
There was no need for Michael to jump in like some knight in shining armor, shoving me out of harm's way as if I were a damsel in distress.
I could've blocked that attack. Effortlessly, might I add.
Maybe it's my mountainous arrogance. Or my deep-seated inability to accept goodwill because I hate being in anyone's debt.
Whatever it is — I don't like being saved.
Plain and simple.
But today — Oh gods, today I wasn't going to complain!
"Are you alright?" Michael asked, his voice laced with genuine concern as he offered me a hand.
I took it and pulled myself upright. "I've never been more thrilled to see your ugly face."
Michael threw my hand away and scowled. "What the hell? I just saved your life, you jerk! Did you hit your head in the fall and forget basic manners?!"
I laughed. Or wheezed. Hard to tell since my ribs still ached and breathing was a chore.
