6. Zane
6
Zane
Delayed not Denied
A s we walk through the terminal, it starts to feel as familiar as walking through my neighborhood. The stores are all closed, and I wonder how long the restaurants and bars will stay open. Even though they can’t get home tonight, the workers have to sleep at some point.
“Do you think the employees in the stores are still inside, hiding out in a back room?” I ask, feeling envious of the possibility for that kind of quiet privacy right now.
“If they are, I hope there’s a secret back passageway that connects them so they can all hang out together.”
“You’re kind, Darby Bartlett. You care about people.”
“I just don’t want anyone to be stuck all alone in a stockroom. I’m not sure that makes me overly kind. Damn. How bad of a first impression do I make?”
“Today’s first impressions shouldn’t be counted against any of us. But while we’re on the topic, what was your first impression of me?”
“Human-shaped golden retriever. The world was on fire all around you, but you were just happy to be there.”
“First of all, a golden retriever is a loyal and noble dog. And they’re incredibly smart. What you just described is a bumbling idiot.”
She laughs, muffling the din of distress rumbling from every corner. “Your first impression of me couldn’t have been great, either.”
“But it was. I thought you were strong-willed and beautiful. If not for your clumsiness, I might’ve been too awestruck to ever talk to you.”
“Please. You had no problem talking to me. And I don’t buy that you’re afraid of women.”
“Okay, I didn’t say I was afraid of you. But if you hadn’t dumped coffee all over me, I might not have ever gotten up the nerve to talk to you. Not even after I’d made my way through the crowd to stand next to you, nervously rocking on my heels, trying desperately to come up with something to say other than a dumb joke about the weather.”
She laughs again, but stops abruptly, both her laughing and walking. “Wait. Were you really standing next to me on purpose? You weren’t just randomly there?”
“There was nothing random about it.”
Physically, she doesn’t move, but I can see the retreat in her eyes, the emotional distance widening like the earth splitting apart with her on one side and me on the other. I want to bridge the chasm, say some perfect thing to draw her back, but no words come.
We resume our walk without talking.
Parents sit on the floor along the walls, keeping watch over their sleeping children and belongings. Some adults have given up and gone to sleep, too. Darby yawns.
“I’m exhausted. I’m sure you are, too.” She smiles, but it’s limp. “You should go on up to your room. I’m going to find a spot to get some sleep, but thanks for everything, Zane. It was really nice to meet you. You made a bad travel day much more bearable.”
“Darby, please don’t—”
“Zane, no. It’s time.”
“We’ll both still be here in the morning. Let me buy you breakfast and pick up where we left off?”
“Hopefully, we’ll all be getting on planes in the morning,” she says.
I see the smallest crack in the hard veneer she’s trying to maintain, but whatever it is that makes her need that shield holds strong.
“Let’s hope so, but in the event that we’re not, I’m buying you breakfast. Deal?”
“If you can find me, you can feed me. How about that?”
As if she can hide from me. Where’s she going to go? “I’ll find you.”
Every rational cell in my body knows I have to respect her wishes and leave her alone, but it’s so hard to walk away from her right now.
I tell myself she’d be safer with me, even though I know there are hundreds of eyes out here, and no one would be able to harm anyone without being seen.
I think about how she’ll be cold with nothing but a disposable airline blanket, assuming they even have any left to hand out.
I want to tell her I won’t be able to sleep if she doesn’t come with me because I’ll be worried about her, and I’ll feel guilty for being in a comfortable hotel room while she’s sleeping on the floor . . . but I don’t think a guilt trip would sway her.
It’s been a long time since the thought of wanting to rescue and protect someone made me feel anything other than angry or numb. Ever since Mom’s diagnosis, I’ve vacillated between the two, mostly feeling like life’s worst blows are inevitable. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.
I might still believe those things, but I want to take care of Darby in spite of them. No, not take care of—but maybe care for? The best way I can care for her right now is probably to walk away and prove that I trust her to take care of herself.
Logically, I know this, but I really fucking hate it. I want to do more. I want to help, but not at the expense of losing my chance to get to know her better.
“Good night, Darby.”
“Night.”
As soon as the elevator doors close to whisk me up to my room, I realize I didn’t even give her my number. She may never have used it, but I should have at least given it to her. I’ll give it to her tomorrow. The moment I find her. And I will find her.
A hot shower always helps to clear my head. If I make it hot enough, it should zap what’s left of my energy, too.
I leave my clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor and step under the running water. I should’ve known it wouldn’t get that hot here. There’s barely enough heat to cause the mirror to fog. And there’s not nearly enough water pressure to blast the tension from my muscles.
My shoulders ache when I reach up to saw the towel back and forth across them. There’s been a constant stiffness in them for weeks. A massage might help, but I don’t think I could hold still long enough. Relaxing has become a lost art to me. I’ll get reacquainted with it, eventually.
I hang my towel on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and kick my discarded clothes into the open space under the sink. Normally, I’d pick them up, but tonight, I don’t care. While brushing my teeth with a vengeance, it occurs to me that Darby and I might not be on the same flight when we can finally get out of here.
If our original flight hadn’t been canceled, we might never have met. I wonder what her seat number was. If I had her phone number, I could text her and ask.
And she would probably block me immediately.
I rinse, spit, and turn out the light. My towel falls behind the door, and I don’t bother hanging it back up.
The sheets are cool and soft against my skin, and all I can think about is her soft skin, how good she felt leaning against me on the train.
Stop it. Think of something else. A toothache. The smell of shrimp shells forgotten in the trash for three days. Flies on roadkill.
My brain refuses to call up the sensory details to match anything I think of to take my mind off her. I’m too fucking wound up with worry and stress to whack off, but too fucking consumed with wanting her to keep my dick from getting hard. Inconvenient bastard.
I try, anyway, but it’s no use, just like I knew it wouldn’t be. The bad thoughts don’t work to kill my erection. My hand doesn’t work to alleviate it. Nothing works!
Fuuuuuuuuuuck!
Thrashing around in the bed like a toddler having a meltdown doesn’t work either.
Why’d I ever have to notice her in the first place? It’s not like this is even a good time to bring someone new into my life. It’s the worst possible time. And she’s not looking to spend any time with me after this storm passes, anyway.
But if she’d just spend tonight with me, then we’d know for sure. We could both fly away with no lingering wonder. No what ifs. No regrets.
Well, she might have some regrets, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t.
I get out of bed and pace around for a while until I get cold and stop to put on a pair of sweatpants before I collapse into the chair in the corner. There’s a blanket neatly folded and draped over the arm, and I pull it across my body. It’s soft, too.
Goddammit! Is everything in this room designed to torture me? Back to pacing.
Darby might appreciate a soft blanket. It’s ridiculous that I have more than I need in here. There’s another one that I’ll never use folded across the end of the bed. It would be cruel not to take her one of my extras. Surely, delivering a blanket to someone isn’t too overbearing.
I’m doing it. She’ll thank me. If not tonight, I bet she’ll feel the gratitude by tomorrow morning after she’s been able to get a few hours of sleep, thanks to the warm, soft blanket I shared.
I step back into my shoes that she loves to ridicule, refold the blanket, grab my phone, and head out.
The only place still serving customers is the open-air bar at the end of the terminal, and that’s where I finally find Darby, sitting on a barstool with her computer open in front of her. I watch as the bartender freshens up her coffee.
It’s entirely too late to be drinking coffee, but I keep that opinion to myself when I drape the soft blanket over her shoulders. I’ve come up behind her and unintentionally startled her, but she smiles when she turns and sees it’s me.
“You didn’t have to bring me a blanket.”
“Trust me, I did.”
“Are you aware that you’re shirtless in the middle of an airport?”
I look down as if I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Didn’t even realize it.”
“Are you aware that the right corner of your mouth twitches when you lie?”
“No, it only does that when I’m trying not to laugh.”
“So, you laugh when you get caught lying.”
“Only sometimes.”
“Thanks for the blanket, Zane.”
“Can I also give you my phone number?”
She takes a deep breath, and I know she’s about to resist, so I cut her off before she can speak.
“It would make me feel better if you had my number. You don’t have to give me yours. Just take mine, please, so I can sleep.”
“Okay.” She unlocks her phone and passes it to me.
I add myself to her contacts and steal a glance at her computer screen as I return her phone. She’s job hunting. At nearly one in the morning.
When she takes her phone back, her gaze drifts down my bare chest for a moment before she pulls it up.
“Thanks again. You should go. This isn’t a nude bar.”
“I’m wearing pants.”
Her gaze falls again, much lower this time. And she yanks it back up twice as fast.
I like the smile she’s wearing now. It’s got a hint of deviousness that wasn’t there before.
“You really could come back up with me,” I say, hoping against all known odds.
She shakes her head. “And you really should go.”
“Not even a goodbye kiss?”
The bartender smirks and turns away as if he hasn’t been watching us. I don’t care. Let the whole airport watch.
Darby leans forward and kisses me softly on the cheek. “Sleep tight.”
“You are an evil, evil woman.”
“Compliments won’t change my mind.”
I kiss her cheek in return, but before I walk away, I run my fingers through her hair. She shivers slightly, and goosebumps appear on her arms.
“If you come upstairs with me, I promise to kiss away that chill.”
“Zane. Go before you end up on a no-fly list.”
I’m not upset at the rejection. I knew it was coming, but the snow is falling again, so there’s very little chance of planes flying out of here tomorrow, which increases my chances with her. And I intend to seize every moment I can.
Those goosebumps were for me. I did that to her. And I could so much more if she’d give me a chance.
“Don’t stay up all night. I don’t want you to fall asleep in your pancakes in a few hours.”
Her teasing smile lingers, but I know she won’t change her mind. Still, this is the longest I’ve ever seen her smile, and that’s progress.
The conditions outside are getting worse, and I’ve never been happier to have a day go so wrong.