Five
Five
I follow the workouts as if in a trancelike state, lost in a thousand conjectures. I get the impression that Leila is holding something back about Travis. What else could explain her sudden change in mood when I mentioned him? Then, as much as I hate to admit it, I couldn’t help dwelling on Thomas’s accident. He’s lived in Corvallis for more than a year, we attend the same college, and I know of him, but I didn’t know anything about his past. When the coach sends the players into the locker room, I realize that I have completely missed the practice, lost in my thoughts.
I say goodbye to Leila and wait for Travis in the parking lot.
“Are you okay?” he asks me as I climb into his dark blue pickup truck, which is brand-new and still shiny. I nod with half-closed eyes and curl up against the seat, seeking some comfort in the soft leather. The only thing I want now is to crawl into my own bed.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he insists with a twinge of worry in his voice.
“Yeah, I just have a really bad headache.”
“Did you take anything?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot…” he says, smiling.
“No one has ever died from a little headache, Travis,” I reply, annoyed.
“I’ll turn on the heat. It will make you feel better.”
“Thank you.” I lean my head against the window and watch the dark asphalt sliding under the car’s wheels, illuminated only by the soft light of the streetlamps. Travis tries to engage me in some small talk, probably in an attempt to cheer me up after today’s argument, but I have zero desire for chitchat. My mind is still lingering on what happened in the gym.
“Do you know her? That girl?” I ask, not turning to face him.
“Who?”
“Leila, the girl sitting next to me during practice.” Did you see any other girls there? I want to ask him.
“She’s Collins’s sister,” he says shortly.
I feel a jolt of fear run through me. “Yes. I know that. But how do you know that? Do you know her personally?”
“No, why should I?”
“I don’t know, she just had a weird reaction when I said you’re my boyfriend,” I say with my gaze still fixed on the window.
“Maybe she doesn’t like me? That wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“How can she dislike you if she doesn’t know you?” I finally turn to look at him, skeptical.
“Why are you giving me this third degree?” Travis tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I know they are brother and sister because they’re together all the time. Maybe she saw me at a party and got the wrong idea. You know how people love to talk shit.”
His answer only makes me more suspicious, but there’s still one other mystery on my mind. “Why were you and Thomas fighting in the locker room?”
“It was nothing. We didn’t agree on a game strategy, usual stuff,” he replies and shifts gears abruptly. “Enough about that. I don’t want to argue with you again.” I can see from the clench of his jaw that he’s beginning to lose his patience.
“Whatever,” I conclude, unconvinced. I should probably keep pushing, dig down until I get the truth. But, as much as it pains me to admit it, I agree with Travis. I don’t want to fight anymore today. So I put my own mind at ease: Leila must have seen him at the party, dancing with those two chicks, and thus was shocked to hear that Travis and I are together. Honestly, sometimes it shocks me too. As for him and Thomas… Well, they never have gotten along.
“But we’re cool, right?”
“Yes. We’ve already talked about it, Travis,” I reply.
“It’s just that you seem strange. You’re more distant. I haven’t heard from you all day, and I can tell by the way you’re shaking your foot that you’re still angry.”
“I’m not angry, I’m just stressed. The fight this morning, the start of classes, my mother…” I take his hand and squeeze it, trying to reassure him, though I know I’m not yet willing to forgive and forget.
“All right.” He interlaces his fingers with mine and lifts our joined hands to his mouth for a kiss. For the rest of the way, I watch the road in silence, soaking in the heat given off by the air vent aimed right at me.
“Isn’t your mom back yet?” he asks me as he pulls into the driveway, noting the absence of Mom’s car and the darkened house.
“No, ever since she started dating Victor, I see her less and less. I mean, I’m happy for her and everything, but it’s like she’s never around these days and—” I open my eyes wide. “Crap! I was supposed to walk Charlie!”
“Who?” asks Travis, puzzled.
I rub my temples and sigh heavily. “Charlie, the neighbor’s dog. Mrs. Williams is out of town and asked my mom if she knew anyone who could help. And Mom, naturally, volunteered me. I was also supposed to go to the dry cleaners, pay the bills, and get dinner,” I say in a rush.
“Relax, I’m sure it’s not that big a deal. You can pay your bills online, and you can order takeout for dinner. As for the dry cleaners, I can take you there right now,” he says softly.
“No, don’t worry about it, I can walk. It’s stopped raining, and I would like to stretch my legs.” I can read the disappointment in his face and immediately feel guilty. “But hey,” I hasten to add, “why don’t we have a night in tomorrow. Pizza and a movie?”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.”
He smiles hesitantly at me. We kiss and say goodbye.
After taking Charlie for a walk, I return to the house. I hang up the clothes I picked up from the dry cleaners and take a minute to print some résumés. I’m so tired I don’t even have the energy to get into the shower, so I collapse on the couch in the living room, exhausted. I flick through some TV channels, but I can’t find anything interesting.
Giving in to my curiosity, I search for Leila Collins’s socials. What I find fits with my general impression of the girl: photos of landscapes and mountains with long captions, a few shots of herself in which her face is entirely obscured except for her beautiful green eyes. I also look for her brother, but I can’t find any profile with his name.
I scroll through my own socials and come across a memory from exactly one year ago. Travis and me at one of the big luncheons his family holds. The Bakers were celebrating his father’s promotion, and while the adults were chatting with their guests, we were goofing off and taking silly selfies, like this one.
As I look at the picture, I can’t help but wonder how we got to this point. We used to be great. Travis was loving and attentive with me. Perhaps that love had changed over time, until it disappeared almost completely. He has his own interests: basketball, friends, and parties. And I am no longer the same Vanessa who fell in love with him at seventeen, an intimidated little girl who hung on his every word.
I have thought of breaking up with him more than once, but, when the time came to actually do it, fear took over, paralyzing me. And he goes back to being the sunny, cheerful, caring Travis I fell in love with, and I wonder if I’m giving up too quickly. If I’m backing down without a fight. That’s what my father did with Mom and me—he gave up without really trying, and I don’t want to be anything like him.
Lulled by melancholy thoughts, I fall asleep curled on the sofa in the fetal position with my phone under my hip. An hour later, I awake to a vibration: a message from my mother. Were you able to run errands? I’m out to dinner with Victor, don’t wait up for me .
Inevitably, a wave of sadness sweeps over me. She met Victor at the law firm where she works as a secretary. He’s a successful lawyer, and on the rare occasions when I’ve met him in passing, he seems like a good guy. But since he has become part of our lives, I’m lucky if I see Mom long enough for a hi and goodbye. Not that I’m dying to spend time with Victor, but it would be nice if Mom wanted me to meet him, if she showed a little interest in me for once. I ignore the message, get up from the couch, and go to the kitchen to heat up the dinner I ordered. I eat it in front of the television while watching a few episodes of The Vampire Diaries , always the perfect cure for whatever ails me. If my mother saw me eating on the couch, she would go crazy—but she’s not here right now, is she? So, my inner teenager agrees, I can do whatever I want.
***
Tuesday morning finds me singing at the top of my lungs in the shower. I seem to be over my cold, and I want to give Travis and his promises a fair shot. Mom still isn’t back, but at least I won’t have to put up with her orders today. I am lathering up with the moisturizing blueberry bodywash when my flawless singing performance is interrupted by the sound of three honks. I gasp—is Travis already here? No way!
I reach an arm over the cabinet next to the shower to check the time on my phone and realize that I have completely lost track of time. I bound out of the shower as though I were spring-loaded.
I have to be on campus in fifteen minutes, and I’m still dripping with bodywash! I run to my room to get dressed, but realize just as I am about to put on my jeans that I left my underpants on the bathroom sink. I run to the bathroom, slip into my panties and bra, run back to my room, and put on a pair of jeans and the first T-shirt I see. I fly once again to the bathroom to hastily blow-dry my hair before remembering I left the brush on the desk in my bedroom. This is what happens when a control freak loses control of the situation: she panics. Travis, through it all, keeps laying on the horn, fueling my frenzy.
“I’m coming!” I wave my hands and yell as though he can hear me through the walls. I take the stairs two steps at a time and almost face-plant but, fortunately, I’m able to grab the railing in time. I slip on my black leather boots, grab my bag from the couch, and hurl myself into Travis’s truck. Once seated, I’m seized by doubt: Did I get everything? I look frantically through the bag even as I feel Travis’s amused gaze on me. I glare at him and gesture for him to start driving.
“Nessy, um…did you…you have a…”
“What? What do I have, Travis?!” I growl.
I hate late people, and I hate being late even more! My hair is still damp, and that means I’ll probably have a headache today too. I haven’t eaten anything and haven’t had a drop of coffee, dammit!
“Nothing, it’s just that you’re wearing your pajama shirt,” he replies hesitantly.
“What?”
He points a timorous finger at me. I look down slowly, certain that he is joking, but when I see the obvious pink of my pajama shirt, I throw my head back and curse myself. Travis turns purple in an attempt to stifle his laughter.
Oh, so this is the day he’s decided to die?
“It looks good on you, though, it goes with the color of your eyes,” he snickers. “And the rabbit saying I Need Some Bunny to Love is a nice touch!” He laughs with delight, even clapping his hand against the steering wheel. When he notices my death stare, he immediately suppresses his laughter and swallows. “Do you wanna to go back inside and change?”
“No. That would make me even later. Just shut up and drive,” I order, flaying him with my gaze.
I arrive on campus ten minutes late. I rush to my class in a blind panic, Travis trotting along beside me without a care in the world. “Come on, it’s only ten minutes. No one will notice!” he cajoles, and I ignore him and continue toward my art history class. When we get to the door, Travis tries to say goodbye, and I shoo him away quickly.
By the time I cross the threshold, class has already begun. At the back of the room there is a large projector. In the center of the room, Professor Torres is introducing the film we will be watching, a documentary about Frida Kahlo, if I understand correctly. In one of the first rows I spot Alex, absorbed in Professor Torres’s explanation. I really want to join him, but I’d rather not disturb the whole class by making my way down there. Instead, I’m forced to take a seat in the last row, right by the door.
The professor dims the lights, and the classroom plunges into darkness. On the projector, images of Frida Kahlo’s work appear. I admire them, fascinated, when a low, raspy voice whispers to me: “I’m beginning to think that you’re stalking me.” What? I peer around to see where the voice is coming from. To my left, I spot the glint of two familiar green eyes, and my breath catches.
It is not possible, not again. Thomas Collins, with a pen between his teeth, still manages to give me his smug smile.
“Why would I be stalking you? You’ve wildly overestimated your importance to other people,” I retort, turning my gaze back to the projector’s screen.
“Really? Yesterday morning during Professor Scott’s lecture, then in the gym, and now here. Seems like stalking to me. You know, if you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”
“You sat next to me in philosophy class! I came to practice for my boyfriend, and, just now, I sat down in the first free chair I could find,” I snap, bewildered by his presumption.
“Purely coincidence, then?” he murmurs under his breath.
“That’s right. Coincidence. And now, if you don’t mind, I would like to pay attention to this class,” I conclude dryly. After a few minutes, however, I realize I can still feel his eyes on me.
“You met my sister yesterday,” he says when I glance quizzically back at him.
“Yeah. She seems nice.”
“And what did you two talk about?” He lays down the pen he had been holding between his teeth and crosses his arms over his chest, giving me his full attention. Even in the dark, I notice that he has that same bandana twisted around his wrist, the one from practice yesterday.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I know my sister. She’s got a big mouth.”
“You’re right to be concerned.” I lean toward him, resting one hand on his shoulder, and I don’t miss the way his body stiffens at my touch. “She told me all your darkest secrets,” I whisper.
“She must not have told you much, then,” he replies nonchalantly. “I have no secrets.”
“Everybody has secrets, Thomas.”
“You sure about that?” He narrows his eyes. “So, let’s hear it then, what’s your secret?”
“My basement is full of the mummified remains of cocky pricks who like to torment me,” I answer immediately, coaxing a soft laugh from him. I’m getting the idea that the more belligerent I become the more he enjoys mocking me.
Now he’s the one to draw closer, bringing his lips to my ear so I can feel his warm exhalation on me as he whispers, “It’s a good thing there’s none of those around here.”
I am certain of just a few things in life. One of them is that I absolutely should not have gotten that strange swooping feeling in my belly at Thomas’s low whisper. Disturbed, I clear my throat and try to compose myself, still very aware of how close his lips are to my skin.
“You can rest easy; your sister didn’t tell me anything.” I reestablish the proper distance between us and turn my attention back to the movie, ignoring my burning cheeks. Thank goodness he can’t see my blush in the darkened classroom.
“Cute shirt, by the way,” he murmurs mockingly.
And then I remember I’m wearing a pink pajama shirt with a winking bunny and a rabbit pun on it, and I pray that a chasm opens up in the floor and swallows me whole. Only after he is sure that I’ve been thoroughly embarrassed does Thomas avert his gaze. He ignores me for the rest of class. When we are dismissed and I’m about to say goodbye and leave, he’s already on his feet. He heads for the door without giving me so much as a glance, leaving me, once again, stunned.
What the heck?
I’m trying to figure out what is more upsetting to me: that Thomas left without even saying goodbye or that it is bothering me so much, when Alex catches up with me. We walk through the halls talking about the lives of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Then Alex tells me about his photography class and shows me some black-and-white shots from yesterday’s session. I praise him for the pleasant melancholy they evoke. Having finished the morning’s classes, we decide to get lunch in the cafeteria.
“I told Travis and Tiffany to meet us there,” I tell Alex, taking my phone from my bag.
“Is that necessary? I mean, Tiff’s great. But I’d rather have lunch without the risk of projectile vomiting. Which tends to happen when Travis is around.”
“Come on, Alex, please make an effort? He’s not going to be a jerk.” Or at least that’s what I’m hoping.
“Really?” he asks sarcastically. “I didn’t think he knew how to be anything else.”
“Please give him one more chance. If he gets out of line, I swear it will be the last time.” I give him the doe eyes, my winning move.
Alex wraps his arm around my shoulders. “All right, all right, I guess I can just ignore him like always.”
“Sounds like a good compromise to me!” I tell him with a big smile.
We find a free table in the crowded cafeteria, and, while waiting for the twins to arrive, we joke about our English Lit professor and his toupee, which jostled with every step he took and required constant adjustment.
“Tiffany knew right away that he was wearing a rug!” I say, opening my can of soda.
“At a certain age, you should just resign yourself to it,” Alex says.
“I don’t know, baldness is making a comeback! I read about it in one of Mom’s Vogue s.”
Alex gives me a horrified look. “When has it ever been in fashion?”
“You’re kidding, right? Most bald men are sexy as hell!”
“Come on,” he says skeptically. “Name a few.”
“Dwayne Johnson. Vin Diesel. Corey Stoll, not to mention Jason Statham! Oh, Alex, he’s… Well, he’s just a god among men,” I exclaim dreamily.
“Okay, okay. Wipe the drool off.” He dabs the corner of my mouth with a napkin teasingly. I’m elbowing him in the shoulder when, from a distance, we see the twins approaching. Travis gives me a kiss and takes a seat across from me. He says hello to Alex with a pat on the back, and my friend reciprocates without much enthusiasm. That’s something, right? Basic civility? I don’t have time to ask how they are doing, because Tiffany, bewildered, looks at my pajama sweatshirt and asks, “What are you wearing, gorgeous?”
“I was running late this morning and I didn’t realize I had put on—” Tiffany raises a hand to shush me.
“Are you telling me that you walked around campus all day in your pajamas?”
I nod, resigned to my own carelessness.
“Oh God, what am I going to do with you?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.
“I know, I know,” I admit with a guilty look and my hands raised in surrender. Travis struggles to hold back a laugh, and even Alex, who this morning had completely glossed over my unusual fashion choices, seems amused. “Okay, okay. Stop staring at me, and let’s go line up for trays. I’m starving.”
When I return to the table with the full tray, I catch sight of Leila sitting alone a few feet away from us. She senses my gaze, and we exchange smiles. I feel bad, seeing her alone; it is just the second day, and I guess she has yet to settle in. So I invite her to join us with a beckoning wave.
Leila smiles again but, as soon as she notices that Travis is also at the table, she turns gloomy and shakes her head “no.” Another weird reaction to Travis. One—or both—of them are hiding something from me, but what is it?
“…right, Nessy? Nessy?” My boyfriend’s calm voice brings me back to reality.
“What?” I ask, confused, when I realize I have everyone’s eyes on me.
“Did you hear what we told you?” asks Tiffany.
“No, sorry, my mind was elsewhere,” I attempt to justify myself, hoping no one will ask questions.
“What were you thinking about?” Alex, my dear old pal, asks innocently.
“Nothing, nothing important,” I reply, forcing a chuckle.
Travis looks around suspiciously, as though trying to figure out what or who had distracted me, but he doesn’t seem to spot anything.
“We were talking about Friday’s party at Carol’s house,” Tiffany continues. “Trav will be there too.”
Oh, the party.
“Alex, will you be there?” I ask, though it sounds more like a plea for help than a genuine question.
“I’m hanging out with Stella, remember?”
“Stella? Who’s Stella ?” asks Tiffany, intrigued.
“His girlfriend,” I reply, giving Alex’s shoulder a teasing squeeze.
“Wow, Smith finally found a girlfriend,” Travis taunts him and earns himself a dirty look from me before wisely deciding to shut his mouth.
“Why have I never heard of this Stella?” urges Tiffany impishly as she strokes the rim of her glass with a finger.
“Because it just happened, and she’s not from Corvallis. I met her this summer in Santa Barbara,” Alex explains.
“Hey, why don’t you bring Stella to the party?” I suggest, clinging to the last glimmer of hope.
“Let’s just say, I have other plans,” Alex replies with a smile that speaks volumes.
“Oh, I see. Are you planning to be lovebirds all weekend?”
“Don’t use that silly word,” he exclaims, embarrassed.
“What word?” I pretend not to understand. “Lovebirds?”
“Stop it,” he begs, giving me his pleading face.
“Lovebirds, lovebirds.”
He plugs his ears with his hands, squinting his eyes, while Tiffany and I laugh out loud. We keep teasing him through the rest of lunch.
***
A few hours later I’m waiting for Travis off campus with arms folded, shivering in the cold autumn air. I’m still wearing just my pajama shirt because I forgot my jacket this morning as well. How long does it take to get a car from a parking lot? It’s already been ten minutes. Damn him.
I’m bouncing on my toes and rubbing my arms to warm them when someone lays a heavy leather jacket over my shoulders, making me wince. The next moment, I find Thomas beside me, sans his own familiar black leather jacket. I am so surprised by this thoughtful—too thoughtful?—gesture that I begin to immediately wonder what game he’s playing.
“Thank you, but I don’t need this.” I shrug the jacket off and hand it back to him, but he ignores me. He lights a cigarette and slightly squints his eyes. When he exhales, the smoke creates a grayish cloud that envelops him.
“Keep it,” he mumbles, as he fiddles with the small wheel of his lighter. “You’re shaking,” he adds after giving me a fleeting glance.
“To what do I owe this act of altruism?” I ask as I turn to face him.
He appears confused. “I wouldn’t call it altruism. Pity, if anything.”
What is that supposed to mean? He feels sorry for me? Like I’m some underfed stray dog running the streets? I shake my head, unnerved by his arrogance. “You know what? Take it back. I don’t need your sympathy.” I return his jacket roughly, hurling it at his chest. In response, Thomas lets out an amused grunt from deep in his throat.
“Touchy, touchy…”
“No, it’s you. You rub people the wrong way,” I retort, directing my gaze elsewhere. Thomas approaches and towers over me. I’m barely five-foot-six, and he looks like a giant next to me.
I swallow and try to pretend his sheer size doesn’t intimidate me. I have to tilt my head to look him in the eyes, trying to read something of his intentions there. He, with the cigarette clamped between his lips, drapes the jacket over my shoulders again, this time making sure to wrap me tightly in it. He sucks in a puff from the cigarette and slowly blows the smoke into my face. Waving the cloud away, I give him a hate-filled look, which appears to just roll off his back.
“Expecting someone?”
“My boyfriend,” I hiss, with my arms crossed over my chest. Then, it occurs to me: if Travis showed up right now and saw me here with Thomas, wearing his jacket, he would have a total meltdown.
“Solve a riddle for me.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, closes his eyes, and blows the smoke out of his nostrils. “I’ve been wondering: Do you have a thing for assholes or is it daddy’s boys you’re into?”
I squint, bewildered.
“Travis isn’t—” I rush to defend him, but the little voice in my head stops me. He isn’t what? An asshole? He is, though. A daddy’s boy? Yeah, he’s that too. Thomas senses my wavering. He gives me the knowing smirk of someone who knows he’s hit the bull’s-eye. Okay, so give this round to Collins. That game is hardly over.
“And why are you here?” I ask to change the subject.
“I smoke and, you won’t believe it, but the college frowns on people smoking indoors.” He sucks in one last drag and tosses the butt a few feet away from us, never looking away from my face. “Crazy, right?”
“Well, you’re done smoking now.” I push the jacket into his arms, hoping to get rid of him before Travis arrives.
He slips it on and, instead of leaving, moves even closer to me. As he does, I get an intense wave of his vetiver scent. There’s something else as well, a fresh, masculine fragrance, a little bit like the grass right after a downpour. Overwhelming. “What, trying to get rid of me?” He grins.
“No, not at all,” I stammer, suddenly feeling my throat getting drier. “I’m just saying, you have no reason to be here anymore. Besides, Travis will be here any minute.”
Thomas sinks his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He seems to want to feign indifference, but the hint of a smirk betrays him. “It’s not too bad out here. There’s an interesting view.”
I look around, confused. What “interesting view” is he getting from a deserted parking lot, half-obscured by fog?
“I’d say there’s definitely better,” I mumble, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear as he stares intently at me for a handful of seconds.
“We should go out sometime.”
I look at him without blinking. I make a huge effort not to laugh in his face.
“Excuse me?” I manage, finally.
“For a drink. Nothing too challenging,” he says, completely confident.
“And why should we do that?”
He lifts one shoulder casually. “Does there have to be a reason?”
“I have no intention of going out with you. Besides, I’ve told you, I’m with someone.”
“I asked you to go out, not to fuck,” he retorts seriously. Meanwhile, I choke on my own saliva.
“Because I would never do that!” I say sternly, frowning.
“And I would never ask you. I have specific tastes.” He lets his gaze run over my body, as if the mere idea of being with me disgusts him. “Different tastes…”
I clear my throat, trying to disguise the discomfort I feel. Without knowing it, he has hit a sore spot. “Yeah, well, the same goes for me.”
“Sure?”
“More than sure.” I lift my chin, hoping not to reveal any kind of emotion.
“Then we’re good,” he said glibly. “We can go out without you running the risk of falling in love with me, or any of that bullshit. Honestly, it’d save me a lot of trouble.”
“Listen.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, astounded at this level of presumption. “We are not friends, we don’t hang out, we don’t get drinks, we are practically strangers. And, frankly, I don’t like the few things I do know about you,” I stress. “So, the answer is ‘no.’ I will not go out with you. Not now, not ever.”
Thomas stares at my parted lips, and I blush, wondering if they are visibly chapped. He pauses only a moment, then looks back into my eyes with a sly smile. He takes another step toward me until his chest is brushing against mine and, for some strange reason, I find myself holding my breath. “We’ll see about that,” he murmurs. I have the terrible feeling that I have just lit the fuse of something that’s going to blow up in my face.
“There’s nothing to see about,” I babble nervously. “I would like you to leave now.”
“Afraid your boyfriend might find me here with you?”
“Unlike you, I like to avoid trouble with Travis,” I explain. Something in my words must have set him off. Suddenly his face hardens, and he instinctively clenches his jaw. If all it takes to trigger a sudden mood shift like that was one tiny mention of Travis, things between the two of them must be more serious than Travis would have me believe. Just then, I hear the sound of the pickup’s engine. In a panic, I retreat back a few steps to get as far away from Thomas as possible. “If I say please, would you go away?”
For a moment, his eyes gleam strangely, and I’m willing to bet that he is thinking of staying right here just to wreak havoc. But then something seems to change his mind, perhaps my pleading expression, or perhaps his long-dormant conscience? He takes a step back, shaking his head slowly and raising his hands in surrender.
“See you around, stranger…” He gives me one last look, lingering on my shirt. I blush as he laughs smugly.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Better get going.” I shoo him away, ignoring the heat in my cheeks and the nickname he’s given me. He gives me a sly wink and slinks away, hands tucked into his jacket as he goes. I stand there for a moment, just watching him with the strangest feeling of confusion. I blame it on the adrenaline triggered by my fear that Travis would see us together.
I get into the truck, glad that I was able to get rid of Thomas in time.
“Sorry, Nessy, I found Finn in the parking lot and we got to talking,” Travis tells me as I fasten my seat belt.
“It’s okay, don’t worry,” I reassure him. The truth is I feel so dazed right now that I haven’t paid the slightest bit of attention to anything he’s saying.
“Are you all right?” he asks me worriedly.
“Yeah, just cold.”
“Sorry I kept you waiting a long time.”
“Not a problem.” I smile at him. He turns on the heater and strokes my thigh. Then I see him sniffing the air with furrowed brows.
“Do you smell that? What is it?”
“Um, no, I don’t smell anything.”
“No, it smells like smoke and… What is it? Cologne? Mint? You really don’t smell it?” he asks a little disgusted.
Oh God. Thomas’s jacket must have imparted some smoke smell to me.
“No, nothing out of the ordinary,” I lie, impassive. “Maybe you’re still smelling Finn’s cologne? You know he practically bathes in the stuff.” I turn on the radio to distract him, and apparently it works.
I listen to him tell me about his day while letting my mind wander. Thomas’s scent continues to invade my nose and my brain. What the hell just happened?