Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Monday morning finds me in the student union cafeteria reading the latest novel chosen by the reading group while I wait for class to begin.
“You’re gonna break it.” Thomas’s deep voice makes me gasp. It’s the first time in exactly forty-five days that I’ve heard it so close to me.
“What?” I turn to look at him, confused and nervous. I realize only now that he is already sitting beside me in his usual swaggering pose, with one ankle balanced on his knee, his arm resting behind my shoulders.
With a jerk of his chin he indicates the pencil I hold between my teeth, which I use to underline the sentences that strike me most in the book. “You keep torturing it like that, it’s gonna break,” he reiterates.
I place the pencil on the book and look back at him, impassive. “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?”
“Is that how it’s always gonna be between us from now on?”
I frown. “Like what?”
“You ignoring me, me doing the same to you…”
“It’s worked so far.”
Thomas cracks a faint smile. “You never get tired of denying the truth to yourself, do you?”
The nerve, showing up here after weeks of silence and presuming to know how I feel! I snort, shaking my head, and put the book back in my bag. “You’re ridiculous, Thomas. You’ve been here less than five minutes and have already made me lose my patience.”
“A record,” he retorts proudly.
“Are you kidding me? What exactly do you want from me, Thomas?” I demand with a sharp look. “You come around here after all this time, talking to me like nothing happened, after having thrown every one of your new conquests in my face, and you expect me to laugh and joke with you?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Seems to me you also didn’t miss any opportunities to show me how into that idiot you were, no?”
“That’s not the same, not at all!”
“Yes, it is, and you know it.” He stares at me grimly.
Okay, it is possible that I got a little closer to Logan than I really wanted to when Thomas was around, but I never kissed Logan in front of him. He did that, though, with his lady friends.
“Forget it. And Logan has nothing to do with it anyway,” I answer, certain.
“He definitely has something to do with it.”
“No, it’s not about him! It’s about you. My God, how can you not get this?” I put my face in my hands before looking at him wearily. “You hurt me! I let you into my house, I told you about me, about my life, about my father. And you… You belittled everything,” I admit, re-opening a wound that hasn’t yet healed. Thomas frowns seriously at me, but I see his face through a veil of humiliation. My eyes are filled with tears, and I’m forced to bite the inside of my cheek to keep them from falling.
“I know,” he says, bowing his head, his voice full of regret. “I have a bad habit of saying things I don’t mean when I’m pissed off,” he defends himself in a small voice. And I let out an unhappy laugh because I feel like I’m having déjà vu.
“Yeah, I’ve heard this story before, for a good two years…” I shake my head. “I have no desire to relive the past.”
Thomas releases a sigh, surrendering, and the features of his face soften. “I know I hurt you and, whether you believe it or not, I’m not proud of it.” Something about the tortured way in which he speaks tells me that this is his way of apologizing to me. Although it’s not the best excuse in the world, I can sense an underlying sincerity that makes me let my guard down. “Can we…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Can we stop all this and start over again?” he asks, his voice uncertain.
What?
“Start over again? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. We could be like…friends?” he ventures, leaving me stunned.
“Friends?” I repeat skeptically.
“Don’t make that face,” he scolds me. “It’s a fair compromise.”
A fair compromise? To have him back in my life, without actually being able to have him? More like a fair punishment if anything.
“I don’t think that will work.”
Thomas frowns. “How do you know?”
“Have you ever been friends with a girl without benefits?”
He looks at me for a few seconds, caught off guard. He thinks about it before giving a troubled shake of his head. “No.”
“I figured. I’m not going to pretend to be your friend just to make it a bit more convenient for you to try to sleep with me.”
“That’s not what I want to do.” He sounds almost offended. “It’s true, I’ve never been friends with a girl without benefiting, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” He pauses and smiles sweetly at me, before inching closer. I hold my breath. “Do you want to be my first, Ness?”
A laugh escapes me. “Do you realize how absurd that sentence sounds coming out of your mouth?” I smile and he does the same in return. The light that illuminates his face melts my heart.
Damn you, Thomas.
“It definitely sounded better in my head,” he adds.
“I don’t know,” I say, getting serious. “Friendship is important. You can’t just wing it. It takes commitment, consistency, respect. For someone who doesn’t want relationships, forging a bond of friendship could be a real problem,” I explain, firmly convinced of what I am saying.
“Then teach me how to be a good friend.”
My eyes roam over him. “Do you really want to do that? You actually intend to be my friend?”
He nods decisively. “Friends, Vanessa, just friends.” But the glint in his eyes is in stark contrast to the words he is saying. Yet I decide to believe him anyway. Tiffany was right: I can’t let go of him.
A moment later, a friend of Thomas’s pulls him aside. They stop to talk for a few minutes, and I take the opportunity to pick my reading back up from where I had stopped. I need something to relieve the tension, but not even one of my beloved books seems to be able to do it. Thomas returns to sit at my side and, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him staring at me for a long moment. I force myself to keep my eyes on the page, so as not to let him see how his proximity puts me off-kilter, but my constant worrying of my lip and wild jiggling of my foot betray me. And Thomas decides to make matters worse by placing his hand on my thigh. The unexpected contact startles me. “Don’t be nervous, stranger. We haven’t talked in a while, but it’s still me and it’s still you,” he reassures me.
I look up at him and nod, as tense as a violin string.
“Want a coffee?” he suggests with his usual cheeky smile, saving me from short-circuiting entirely.
“Yes, great idea.”
I watch him get out of his chair and pull a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his ripped, black jeans, and stick one cigarette behind his ear.
As soon as he notices me looking at him, he gives me a wink. It’s a harmless gesture, but one that makes me blush nonetheless. I look down and pass him quickly to keep him from noticing the flush on my face.
“What classes do you have today?” I ask as we head to the cafeteria.
“Law. Two Hours. With Thompson, who’s going to enjoy reading me the riot act.”
“And why exactly will she do that?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
I nod, preparing for the worst.
“I had a good time with her granddaughter this summer. Apparently Thompson found out about it recently and didn’t like the way I ended things,” he explains simply.
“Can you blame her?” I mutter, avoiding his gaze.
“She’s convinced that her granddaughter is a little Goody Two-shoes; she has no idea what the girl is really like. So yeah, she’s wrong,” he replies, all conviction.
“She’s still her granddaughter,” I point out to him. “And, either way, you should show more respect toward women,” I admonish him. He rolls his eyes, so I add, “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to stop talking like a caveman just because we’re friends now.”
I can feel a few passing female students staring at us. Ugh, not again. I wonder how Thomas manages to stay sane.
“Don’t give it too much weight,” he snaps me out of my musings, as if he’s read my mind.
“It’s annoying. I mean, apparently me just being seen with you is enough to antagonize half the school.” For a month, I had spared myself Shana’s dirty looks, but it took just one walk down the hallway to reignite the fuse. “I just wish they could understand that I am not a competitor in the bare-knuckle brawl for Thomas Collins’s heart.”
“The only brawl they can hope for is the one in my bed.”
“Well, even then, I pose no threat.”
Thomas gives me a sidelong grin, before opening the cafeteria door and letting me through. “And you, do you have classes today?” he asks, ending our previous conversation.
“English literature, why?”
He shrugs as though his question were completely unmotivated, yet the thoughtful look that creases his brow makes me think the opposite is true.
“I’m going to get some coffee,” he says.
“Okay, can you get me a sugar-free long shot?” I ask. I sit down at the table and check my phone for notifications.
I’m scrolling through social media on my phone when Thomas returns with coffees and a muffin.
He hands me the steaming mug and sits down across from me. Then he slides the saucer with the muffin across the table and I realize it’s pistachio. “It was the last one. I know you like pistachio,” he states casually, rubbing the nape of his neck where his hair is cut short. It’s clear that he’s trying to downplay this uncharacteristic courtesy. My mouth drops open in surprise, but I decide to pretend that the gesture has no effect on me whatsoever and just thank him instead.
“So, I heard you started working at the Marsy. How are you liking it?”
I tell him how many mugs I had to fill before I learned how to properly pull a tap beer. I complain about how hard it was at first to carry several plates at once and how much I detest dressing up like a cheerleader.
As we chat, a curly-haired girl with amber skin walks past our table. She casts a sly glance at Thomas, who either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to notice. “Hi, Thomas,” she calls.
“Hi…” he answers uncertainly, his eyes half-closed as if trying to dredge her name up from his memory.
“Nancy,” she says, irritated. “Two weeks ago you tattooed my sister’s name on my wrist, and then took me to the backroom to get to know each other.”
I am not surprised to hear that something happened between the two of them, although it does sting a little. But what really amazes me is something else: I had no idea Thomas did tattoos.
“I have lots of sex. With lots of different girls.” He takes a sip of his coffee, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues. “I can’t remember every one of you. What do you want?”
And here we have Thomas Collins, the primordial bastard version. The girl looks mortified and, although I don’t know her, I can’t help but empathize with her. I get it, it’s hard not to fall into Thomas’s trap. This is exactly why I will never cross the line with him again. I can’t imagine being treated like that by someone with whom I had shared the most intimate part of myself.
“So?” Thomas prompts her irritably, without the slightest bit of tact.
From the furious expression on Nancy’s face, I could swear that she’s thinking seriously about pouring a cup of hot coffee all over him. Honestly, he would deserve it. But, in the end, she just chooses to walk away, shooting him a look filled with hatred. Thomas turns to me with an imperturbable shrug. “Where were we?”
“Did you have to treat her like that?” I frown, crossing my arms over my chest.
“It was the only way to get rid of her. We had a good time, but that’s where it ended.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Wait, so you did remember her?”
“I remember them all. Some more than others.” He winks at me. I try not to blush.
“If you remembered her, then why did you humiliate her like that?”
“Because otherwise she wouldn’t have left so easily, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a pain in the ass. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
I bite my lip, ready to deny it. But even though it’s wrong, a part of me is pleased to know that he would rather interact with me than spend time talking to someone else. Although I still don’t like the way he went about it, I choose to bite into my muffin and, instead of answering, I change the subject.
“How’s Leila? I haven’t seen her in a while.” It’s not that I blame her for what happened with Travis. In fact, I’m grateful to her for being honest. But I haven’t seen her since that night, partly by accident, partly because I try to avoid her so as not to relive my humiliation when I look into her eyes.
“Ever since she started working for the paper, she’s been off my radar. She’s started to climb the ladder and now she’s convinced she’s the next Mika Brzezinski.”
I laugh under my breath. More for the fact that he knows who Mika Brzezinski is than for the comparison itself. “I’m glad she was able to join the staff. I’ll be eagerly awaiting her first article.” I clasp my hands around my coffee cup to warm them.
“You’ll be the only one, believe me,” he says, annoyed.
I smack him on the arm. “You’re her brother, you should be her number one fan!”
But I don’t hear his reply because I catch sight of Logan at the counter. He is giving us a confused look. I wave hello but as soon as Thomas turns to look and notices that Logan is coming toward us, the smile fades from his lips.
“Is he coming over here?” he asks, annoyed.
“I’m gonna say yes.”
Thomas glares at me. “I don’t want him here.”
What?
“We’re dating, Thomas, I can’t stop him from coming to see me.” My reply seems to irritate him.
“Are you actually serious about Logan?” he exclaims, disgusted. “You don’t know shit about him.”
“I know enough. I know that he’s kind and polite. And, most importantly, he knows what he wants.” I underscore the sentiment by lifting my chin, proud of this small, but effective, dig. “And if we’re being honest, I don’t know anything about you either. The one time I tried to find out, you shut me down.”
He clenches his jaw: he has taken the blow.
“Listen.” I take a deep breath and try to calm down. “I don’t want to argue with you now. If you’re worried about me, you have no reason to be, okay? We’ve gone out a couple of times, I assure you he’s a good guy.”
“There are weird rumors going around about him. So no, I’m not comfortable knowing that you’re with him.” He looks me straight in the eye as he says it, and I can’t help but wonder why everyone seems to have something against Logan?
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but he’s been nothing but good to me so far. He’s nice and well-mannered. People always talk, they say all sorts of things, but that doesn’t mean they should be believed.”
As soon as Logan reaches our table, Thomas gets up abruptly. “I’ve got class, I’d better go,” he blurts out, obviously on edge.
“Thomas…” I mutter dejectedly. I would like to grab his hand to stop him from leaving, but I restrain myself. After all, he’s the one who wanted to be friends. And he can’t throw a fit every time Logan gets near me.
Thomas rounds the table and comes up behind me. He leans over me, grabbing my chin with one hand and urging me to tilt my face toward him. I gasp at the unexpected gesture and, when his rough jaw draws close to my cheek, I shudder. It is the first real contact I’ve had with him in more than a month. Without giving me time to understand his intentions, he plants a kiss just a little too close to the corner of my mouth.
“See you around, stranger,” he whispers in my ear, never taking his eyes off Logan. Then he leaves.
I sit there, stunned, trying to decide what just happened even though I’m pretty sure I already know.
He wanted to mark his territory.
This realization triggers a wave of anger in me. He has no right to lay claim to me! What the hell?
“Hey,” Logan greets me in a small voice, embarrassed by the scene he was forced to witness. “Are you two talking again?” he asks me, his blue eyes boring into mine as he sits down next to me.
I sigh and try to shake off the familiar tension I feel whenever Thomas is around. “It seems so, but to be honest, I don’t know how long it’s going to last.”
“I don’t know why you’re still wasting your time,” he says with ostentatious nonchalance, but I can tell by the way he clenches his jaw that he’s trying to suppress some irritation. And who could blame him? Thomas was doing his best to provoke him. He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers and kissing the back. If there is one thing I like about Logan, it’s that he lets me set the pace; even though we’ve been on four dates already, he’s never tried to kiss me. He wants me to take that step. Even physically, he’s Thomas’s opposite. No piercings, no ink on his skin, no intimidating appearance that makes you uncomfortable. He’s a good guy, the kind that makes your life easier.
“This thing between you two…” He looks at me, growing serious. “I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”
“No, of course not.” I take a sip of coffee, shifting in my seat. I wasn’t expecting that kind of question.
“Are you sure? Because I got a vibe that… I don’t know, I don’t like it. And I certainly haven’t forgotten the way he treated me that day in class. Not to mention the way he looked at me just now: he looked like he wanted to take me apart. He doesn’t seem like someone who’s playing with a full deck.”
“He…he’s not so bad.” I feel compelled to defend him; even though he did hurt me emotionally, he was never a danger to me. “In any case, you have nothing to worry about, really. We’ve settled our differences, but it’s nothing more than that.” I smile to reassure him.
“I always wondered why you guys fought. I mean, I was with you at the time, but I admit to not having understood much about it.” He looks at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, the usual stuff, you know… His temper meets my stubbornness and, boom, the bomb goes off. Nothing major, in any case.” I seem to have convinced him.
“By the way, I have bad news. Unfortunately, I have to cancel our bowling date for tomorrow.” He rubs his forehead.
I give him a sad look. “How come?”
“I have to go back to Medford. My grandmother’s birthday is at the end of October, and the whole family gets together to celebrate. It’s a tradition. But it had slipped my mind when I suggested going out to the bowling alley.”
“I understand. How long will you be gone?”
“A week, I leave in the morning.”
“Oh, then you could come see me at the bar this evening,” I suggest, smiling.
“You know I don’t like that place. Besides, you’d be working. I can’t get the time with you that I’d like.”
“I know, but during the week there’s not as much hustle and bustle. And we aren’t going to see each other for days…” I say, doing my best impression of a pleading doe.
“Okay, okay. It’s impossible to say no to those big eyes. Now I’ve got to go, I need to pack my bags.”
“Hey, I can give you a hand if you want. I love packing.”
“Don’t worry, I have everything under control,” he tells me, standing up and burying his hands in his pants pockets.
“Oh, okay. See you this evening, then?”
“Yes, I’ll see you later.” He kisses me on the cheek gently and we say goodbye.
After my last class of the day, I walk off campus headed for the bus stop, when suddenly a hand grabs me, pulling me backward. I almost lose my balance but two muscular arms prop me up.
“You are so uncoordinated.” A tattooed man with emerald eyes smiles at me.
“Thomas, what are you doing here?” I give him a dazed look.
“I’m out for a walk.” He brings a cigarette to his lips and lights it before looking at me. “And you’re coming with me.”
What? This morning he stormed out of the café and now he wants me to leave with him? I’m afraid I’ll never be able to keep up with his mood swings.
“Actually, I’m going home.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill.” He blows out a cloud of smoke. “Let’s get a change of scenery. I promise to get you home by curfew,” he teases me with an angelic expression that doesn’t suit him at all.
“But what about your classes? Practice?”
“No practice today, and Professor Thompson was my last class of the day.”
“Good for you. But I’m working tonight, so sorry but I’ll pass.”
“What time do you start?” he asks point-blank.
“Six-thirty.”
“You’ll be there by six-thirty.”
“Thomas, I’m serious. I don’t feel right about it…”
“Because?”
“Because I know what you’re trying to do, and I have no intention of—”
“Ness,” he interrupts. “I’m not trying to get into your pants. I just want to spend some time with you.” He circles an arm around my waist and moves closer. My heart leaps into my throat, and I nearly stop breathing. He peers intensely into my eyes and, with the hand that holds the cigarette, he brushes aside a strand of my hair that has fallen over my left collarbone. “I’ve missed you, stranger.”
And this is how weeks of self-control, determination, and Herculean efforts to repress my emotions crumble. The warm, seductive way he says these words makes me falter for a few moments. Until the little voice in my head reminds me that he must have really been missing me every time he stuck his tongue in someone else’s mouth. That thought alone is enough to bring me back to planet Earth.
“I didn’t miss you at all.”
“Liar.” He quirks a corner of his mouth smugly.
Arrogant as ever. Without giving me a chance to consider his proposal, he hands me a helmet.
“What is this?” I ask with a grimace.
“Probably a helmet, don’t you think?” he replies teasingly.
“Yes, I get that. But what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Wear it. Let’s leave with her.” He points to an aggressive-looking black motorcycle parked a few feet away from us.
I burst into hysterical laughter and hand the helmet back to him. “No way. It’ll rain gold from the sky before I get on that thing.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases with a mocking smirk.
“It’s not fear, it’s a survival instinct. Besides, I don’t like motorcycles.”
He frowns and takes a drag on his cigarette. “All right, let’s hear it: What’s your problem with motorcycles?”
“They’re dangerous,” I explain earnestly.
“That’s the beauty of it.” He cocks his head and gives me a mischievous grin.
“I am not getting on that thing.”
“Don’t talk about my baby girl like that,” he retorts, pretending to take offense.
“Baby girl? What is it with men and vehicles?” I laugh.
“It’s the same as you and your stuffed animals.”
Thomas stubs out his cigarette with his shoe and slips on his Ray-Bans. “Move your ass or I’ll carry you myself.”
“I won’t tell you again. I’m not getting on that bike, I swear to—”
I don’t finish the sentence because he grabs me and throws me over his shoulder. “Took too long, Ness.” I can’t see it, but I bet he’s got his slyest smile plastered all over his pretty face.
“Thomas! Put me down right now! You are making a scene!” I rain small punches down on his back, which don’t faze him at all. He sits me down on the bike’s seat and restrains my arms and legs, holding them firmly against his body.
“You’ve got two options here,” he chuckles. “You can choose to come with me or you can come with me anyway.”
“I’m sorry, what happened to free will?” I shrill, irritated. I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ears and cross my arms.
“It’s on vacation.” He folds the corners of his mouth up and I crumble in the face of that smile. Damn me! Thomas, pleased with his win, slips my helmet on and adjusts the chin strap.
“I’m capable of putting on a helmet, Thomas,” I inform him sourly.
“I see you’re still a shrew,” he retorts. I hit him softly on the chest.
“And you’re still a swaggering douchebag,” I say, but a small laugh escapes me. He tries to restrain himself, but soon bursts out laughing along with me. The interior padding of the helmet presses my cheeks, and I feel quite awkward. I expect Thomas to start teasing me at any moment, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he takes off his leather jacket and hands it to me.
“Put it on, you’ll get cold.” When I wear it, I feel enveloped by a comforting warmth and the scent of vetiver and tobacco. A scent that, I have to admit, I’ve missed.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, zipping up the jacket while he slips on his helmet and chews a piece of gum.
“I don’t know. Baby Girl will be our guide.” I roll my eyes skyward while Thomas gets on the bike. I settle myself behind him, holding his shoulders and resting my feet on the small pegs on either side of the bike. At that point, Thomas starts the engine, letting it roar a couple of times before the bike suddenly jolts forward. Letting out a little cry, I plaster myself against his back and hug his sides. I hold my breath for a few seconds and listen to him chuckle.
Then he rests both feet on the ground and places a hand on my knee. “All right there, stranger?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I admonish him, gently punching his back as I try to control my anxiety and look for something else to hold on to, but I can’t find anything. “Thomas…where do I put my hands?”
He turns his head slightly toward me, then takes my hands and moves them around his waist. “Right here. Hold on tight,” he orders.
I don’t have time to tell him that he should go slow, because with a sharp flick of his wrist, we are speeding across the asphalt at full speed. I close my eyes fearfully and squeeze him as tightly as I can, praying that I arrive in one piece.