Samar had stopped caring about his image long before heâd planted his first bomb. For the most part, heâd earned the looks of distaste, disgust, and ire directed at him, the name Chopra standing for brutal and harsh. His uncle had once explained it well- that sacrificing your name and honor for the good of a cause was enough if you let it be.
But Nola had done nothing to deserve this bullshit except be born under a bad name. While Chopra stood for something others would rather not look at, Wrenley was an easy villain. A target for the smoldering hatred of thousands to be directed at, a scapegoat now that the real bad guy was dead. Samar would scream the names of all the people heâd killed if it would stop the city from looking at Nola a second more.
When Miles finally looked at her, it felt like an afterthought. Any traces of concern in his expression werenât for her, they were for Camilla - or so said the voice in the back of her head. Magnolia dropped her hand from her face, making sure Miles would be able to see the lingering hot red mark on her face, hurt evident in her expression. Magnolia had been outright slapped, and now because Camilla drunkenly tripped over a chair when Samar pushed her back that made her the victim.
Samar should have punched Cam. Heâd wanted to, whether it was the burning fire of whiskey igniting his anger or just the very real hatred he felt for those like her. Camilla was a stain, the reason Samar still had a hard time moving past the rebellion, the kind of person that made him wonder if they had really accomplished anything. He smirked down at her fallen form, brushing his hands on the new suit Nola had acquired him like Camillas grime had rubbed off on him. He turned back to Nola and gave her a once over, not one to ask stupid questions like âare you okay?â even if he was worried. She could handle a slap- she could handle way more then that- but he wasnât sure she could handle the mortification of all eyes on her.
âWhat the hell?!â Suddenly there was a man in his face, angry and broiling and somewhat familiar in a way that he couldnât place. Samar turned back around and made a face at him, equally confused why heâd be defending Camilla and why he thought he stood a chance against Scarmouths number one anarchist.
âBack off. Donât be that dude that defends the angry bitchâ Samar rolled his eyes and cast a scathing look over the shorter mans shoulder towards Camilla
When Miles saw Magnoliaâs face, an interesting combination of shame and embarrassment hit him square in the chest. Magnolia had become a real friend to Miles, and the fact that it looked like heâd sided with Cam- who he promised himself heâd stay away from- over her when he knew this whole thing was undoubtedly Camillaâs fault, and it clearly hurt Magnolia⊠Miles didnât know how to respond to that.
Luckily he didnât have to, as the man whoâd pushed Camilla was engaging him now. A part of him wished heâd stayed home: cleaning up the messes people make when theyâre drunk was something he thought heâd left back at his fatherâs house. Another part of him wished heâd stayed out of this mess, but whatever he felt towards Magnolia, and whatever he still felt towards Camilla meant that he knew he wouldnât be able to do that. Either way, some of the fire had died down in him. He knew two things here: this guy was a lot bigger than him, and a lot of people were staring. Preferably, heâd like to get through this without any further incident, but heâd settle for getting the attention away from Camilla- and Magnolia- if thatâs what it came to.
âListen,â Miles said, knowing he was cemented as âthat dudeâ no matter what he did, âI get it, okay. Camâs a bitch. Youâre drunk. But youâre acting like a fucking barbarian.â He shot Magnolia a look, as if to ask âwho is this asshole?â
Magnolia wanted to look anywhere but at Miles but the heat of the stared around them had her gaze fixate on him. Angling herself towards them, hoping to obstruct any camera angle trying to snap this moment. She had dragged Samar there on the promise that heâd go unnoticed then went ahead and caused a whole scene with Samar left made out to be the bad guy. The adrenaline had finally burnt through the last bit of alcohol, color flushing to her cheeks.
âSamar didnât do anything,â Magnolia stepped forward in between them, her tone pleading. âHe was just trying to defend me, Camilla tripped over the chair by accident.â
Samar glanced around at the gathered crowd, a little too aware of their eyes on him. Nolaâs words were sweet, but it was clear from everyone's expression who had been painted the bad guy already.
âNol, we should goâ He grumbled slowly, reaching a hand forward for her arm. Magnolia glanced back briefly, then back to Miles. For a moment it looked like might say something, but then her eyes drifted back to Camilla over his shoulder looking all too satisfied with herself and the scene she was able to just put on. Nola sighed, doing her best not to shake her head and laugh only discernible to those in their immediate vicinity.
âI gottaâŠâ She tapped her temple as if sheâd just remembered something before gesturing over her shoulder.
Samar? Miles knew that name, and he knew it well. âWait,â His words were half a whisper as he reached out for Magnolia, grasping at her hand. But he looked past her, studying the mountains and valleys of Samarâs face. He was taller now, but of course he was taller. It had been a long time since theyâd really seen each other. âI-â What was he doing?
He dropped Magnoliaâs hand. âIâm sorry, I,â
whyareyoulikethisyoualwaysdothewrongthingyouthinkyouârehelpinganyone?youârejustinthewayyoualwaysdothisyouârealwayslikethisyoushouldjustmindyourownbusiness nobodyhereneedsyoutheycanhandlethingsthemselves
Miles smiled, big and bright and fake, âRight.â
Samar stared right back at the man, caught between his cocky act and confusion. As soon as Nolas hand was dropped he tugged her back, murmured a fast âWeâre leavingâ and spun them back into the crowd. It wasnât dense enough that they could disappear like they wanted to, but people parted easily enough around them for Samar and Nola to make a beeline for the entrance.