Chapter Text
It started out as normal as a twenty-one year old billionaire’s day could be. Tony woke up next to the stunning brunette he had met in his marketing class, whose name he was sure he’d remember any day now. He grabbed a black coffee from Starbucks on his way to University. People could say what they wanted about the company, but Tony knows a damn good cup of coffee when he has one. Now, he’s waiting for the crosswalk, and the sultry blonde next to him in a slinky red dress keeps stealing glances. It looks like he’s found his date for tonight.
“Hemingway, huh? Have you read much of his work?” He could see For Whom the Bell Tolls peeking out of her black Prada bag. Tony’s mother had preferred Chanel.
She looked shocked for a second, and then smiled nervously before answering.
“It’s my boyfriend’s. He left it at my house. I’m not really much of a reader.”
Well, that was too bad. Attractive as she was, Tony wasn’t desperate enough to steal someone else’s girlfriend.
“I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate on reading if I was in the same room with a beautiful girl like yourself.” He said, tossing a wink and a smile at the blonde for good measure. Boyfriend or no, a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.
The woman, whom Tony guessed was in her late twenties, giggled and batted her eyelashes. She was about to speak when her cell phone began to ring. It was in the process of taking the phone from her purse that For Whom the Bell Tolls was knocked onto the street. Before she could move to retrieve it, Tony stilled her by placing his hand on her wrist.
“No, please. Allow me.”
He snatched up the novel and turned to give the woman his most debonair grin. This earned him another giggle and a shy smile. Maybe he’d invite her to dinner anyway. A completely friendly dinner with no ulterior motives so they could get to know each other better and he could find out if she was a natural blonde.
Then he was hit by a Ford pickup going forty-five.
Everything was black. His head hurt. Did he have a hangover? When was the last time he had a hangover? Oh right, two days ago. Maybe it was time to cut back on the liquor.
Then he realized it wasn’t just his head that hurt, it was his whole body. Tony tried to move, but someone had placed their hand on his chest to keep him from rising. A woman was shrieking nearby. She’d take a few breathes, sobbing the whole while, then let out another gut wrenching scream. Someone really should see if she’s alright, but it wasn’t going to be him. He was going to go pass out somewhere more comfortable. Like his bed.
Once he opened his eyes and his vision adjusted, he saw it was the blonde with the boyfriend who was screaming. She had begun to calm down now, thank God. He remembered offering to get her book, but he couldn’t see it from where he was lying. Picking up the book was the last thing he could recall. Tony moved his right arm in an effort to push himself up, but a sharp jolt of pain stopped him. This was the last time he tried to impress women with his chivalry. He’d have to rely on his good looks, family wealth, and genius level intellect to get him dates from now on. It would be tough, but Tony was sure he could pull through. On the upside, he could recognize what he wrote off to be white noise as conversation. The person holding him down with a gentle, but firm hand on his chest was speaking to him.
“You shouldn’t move. The ambulance will be here soon. Just hold on.”
Wow. This very muscular Good Samaritan was so handsome it made Tony forget all his exceptionally witty comebacks. He normally kept his romantic interest to the fairer sex, but he could make an exception in this case. Handsome’s smile made him feel dizzy, and he had the bluest, clearest eyes Tony had ever seen. That was a lie, his eyes were more of a blue-grey, but that didn’t sound as remarkable. Besides, he was in pain, and people in pain can say whatever they want.
“Are you an angel? Because my head hurts. A lot.”
It wasn’t exactly the clever pickup line he had planned, but Tony had charisma in spades. Just look at Miss Russia! The first date, she threw Cabernet Sauvignon in his face. The next date she ordered water, which didn’t stain his shirt. She said she ordered water because she was on a diet. Tony knew better. He had totally grown on her.
Luckily, the most recent object of his admiration didn’t take the words of someone who probably had a concussion too seriously. He just smiled a little wider. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled just enough for Tony to be able to tell it was a genuine smile, and Tony liked him all the more for it.
“What’s your name?” Tony said.
The man was asking the crowd if anyone had caught the truck’s license plate number, but he stopped when he heard Tony speak.
“My name? It’s Steve."
“I’m Tony."
“It’s good to meet you, Tony. Please, try not to move too much. You might make your injuries worse.”
A little irritated at being told what to do, he used his left hand to feel his head. His hand came away covered in blood. Definitely more blood than he liked to see seeping out of his head. He groaned and shut his eyes.
“I think it looks worse than it is.” Steve said. “You’re going to be ok.”
“That’s sweet. Thanks. You’re great. Bald eagles mate for life. Usually.”
Steve looked concerned, but kept smiling, and let Tony continue.
“I could build you a jetpack. Probably. I’m very smart.”
Unfortunately, the arrival of the ambulance cut Tony’s wooing short. After administering a bit of onsite aid, the paramedics attempted to place Tony on the stretcher, and Steve moved out of their way. At least he tried to, but Tony grabbed onto Steve’s t-shirt with his left hand.
“Steve,” he said. “Your hair is gold. Like my Rolex.”
It was then that one of the paramedics, a pudgy, freckled kid who must have been jealous of Tony and wanted him to suffer, pried his hand off Steve.
“That’s enough, Don Juan. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to your boyfriend after we get someone to take care of your head wound.”
Tony really hated this guy.