Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
TRISTEN
Time creeps by as we hit each stop, dragging our tired bodies off and then back on the bus.
Only the Springfield truck stop remains, our longest stretch before we reach our final destination.
Crossing my arms, I curl into myself, the air brisk enough that my nose is frozen.
I’m regretting not leaving my gloves in my jacket pocket with each shiver.
Apparently the only temperature the bus has is arctic.
A soft, flirtatious giggle sounds next to me, and I nearly snatch the earbud out of Reese’s ear again. The noise shouldn’t bother me, so there’s no explanation why my hands curl into fists to punch some imaginary character out of Reese’s mind.
Ahem. Not that I’m jealous.
It’s that she’s been wrapped up in her book for the last six hours, munching on her trail mix. It’s been so quiet without her snark that I almost want to poke her so she remembers I exist.
Curiosity has me sneaking peeks at her phone to see what book has caught her attention, but her screen is locked. I hope out of the handful of narrator friends I know, it won’t be one of their names on the screen.
With her hood cinched tight around her face, her oversized sweatshirt cocoons around her, with her legs bent and crammed inside for warmth.
Similar to how I remember her sitting eating her cereal on chilly Saturday mornings when I’d have the rare sleepover at Des’s.
It’s sort of cute that she didn’t grow out of it.
I catch myself staring for a moment too long and force myself to return to my apartment hunting in LA.
Prices are higher, as I’d assumed they would be, especially if I want to be in a safer area where I won’t be stabbed on my way to work.
Even a studio with the bare basics will cost me a good chunk of my paycheck.
It will definitely be a sacrifice living month to month.
Maybe I should’ve bought the RV instead of Des. Then I’d be home no matter where I parked it.
“Hey,” Reese suddenly says, tapping my arm.
Guiltily, I flick up on the screen and close the search engine before she notices.
“What’s up?”
“Can you listen to this?”
I blink, hoping to mask my irritation. I must be too slow because she grabs my arm and gives me a little shake.
“Please?” She pulls out one of the earbuds and offers it to me. “It will only take a second.”
As always, I’m toast with that sappy smile of hers. I sigh in defeat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Does this voice sound familiar? It’s insane, but I keep having déjà vu.”
“With who?” I ask, then take the device and twist it in my ear.
“The man from the audiobook I’m listening to.”
“Oh.” My lip curls at the thought of listening to the man she’s been drooling over for hours.
Or perhaps I should take some notes for my next recording. It’s a rare thing for Reese to be so smitten. A sour taste fills my mouth at that thought, and I take a swig of my water to force it down just as she hits play.
“You’re everything I’ve been searching for, Annie,” the narrator declares, and I inhale the next chug of water in my lungs in surprise. Gagging, I spray water from my mouth and nose on the back of the seat in front of me and across my legs.
“Oh, shoot. Tris.” Reese slaps my back, concerned. “Are you okay?”
It’s me. Reese is listening to one of my books.
I can’t even get a word out through my coughing fit. Heck, I can’t even enjoy the satisfaction of knowing it was my voice she’s been listening to this whole time.
“Down the . . . wrong pipe . . . I’m okay,” I manage to gasp out.
She pulls a stack of napkins from her backpack and wipes the leather seat in front of me with expert precision.
“I can . . . do that,” I protest, still fighting the instinct to cough.
“It feels fair that I have to clean up one of your messes for once. You just focus on breathing like a normal human being.”
Like this isn’t her first rodeo, Reese dries the seatback with efficient strokes and then the floor.
Then she snatches another napkin and cleans off the tops of my arms in two quick swipes.
She’s fast, too fast. Stiffening, I almost climb backward up my chair when her next wipe glides across my upper thigh and nearly sends me into another coughing fit.
“Whoooa. That’s good enough.”
The bus temperature skyrockets to a boiling point.
“Oh my . . .” She leans back to cover her face. “I wasn’t even thinking. I’m so used to cleaning up spills, even at work that . . . agh . . . sorry, Tris.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a shaky breath.
Overwhelmed, my mind is firing off in twenty directions and I shake my head, hoping things will settle down. I don’t know what unnerved me more, drowning on a sip of water or her brushing the top of my pants.
The thigh thing. One hundred percent her hand on my thigh.
“Sorry,” she says again, forcing an awkward smile with too much teeth. “Don’t forget your beard.”
“It can air dry.” Brushing a hand across my face, I flick the tiny droplets onto my shirt. “Thanks for helping.”
“Feeling better?” she asks, eyeing me carefully in the dim light. “You still look flush.”
“I’m a little overheated.”
“Overheated? We could hang meat in here. I’m bundled in my sweatshirt with two layers, and that lady over there is wearing a winter jacket.”
“My body is weird, what can I say?”
“Ha. I see that. Forgot how to swallow, huh?” She barks a laugh and tosses the soiled napkins into the plastic bag between us.
My eyebrows lower. Well, I didn’t expect her to agree with me so quickly.
“All right, back to the task at hand. I tried googling the guy, Austin is his name, but he has no profile picture.”
“You’re a little obsessed about this, Nancy Drew.”
“Make fun of me all you want, but I need answers. His bio is also on the vague side. Maybe he looks like a creeper or—”
“He doesn’t,” I growl.
She raises a brow.
“I’m only guessing. Some professionals like their privacy, especially with nosy fans like you.”
“I suppose. He said he’s from Colorado though—I could have met him at some point. I mean, what are the chances?”
Did I say Colorado? “It’s a big state.”
“Listen to him again. I know I’ve heard him before.”
“Fine. Last time and then you drop it,” I grumble, earning me one of her megawatt smiles.
Before she hits play again, she snatches my water bottle away. “Just in case.”
This time I’m prepared when my fake-seductive voice rumbles in my ear. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.” The last word is a bit too nasal for my taste, but I catch Reese’s quick intake of air, and a warm glow pulses in my chest. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought.
“Do you hear him?” she whispers, like he’s nearby and he might hear.
“I do,” I whisper back, realizing this could be the most epic of pranks. “He does sound familiar now that you mention it.” I bite my lips to keep from laughing. “Lewis, maybe?”
She rams her shoulder into mine, almost launching me into the aisle. “Take it seriously. This is driving me crazy.”
The audiobook plays on for a few minutes, the two of us sharing the earbuds.
I know exactly which book and even the chapter she is listening to—my first recording.
Normally, I cringe hearing the playback of an earlier piece.
In a year and a half, I’ve improved so much on my tone and emotion.
This book took me an entire month to finish because Chantelle, or I should say Evie, asked me to re-record parts with more emotion.
This section we are listening to was one of those parts.
Countless hours were spent wedged in my closet between my ski jacket and ugly Christmas sweater, repeating this romantic dialogue until I could do it blindfolded.
But that was the problem, it was a cold memorization.
I needed a visual, pretending a real person stood in front of me that I was admitting my character’s feelings to.
Somehow, Reese became that person I visualized. It’s odd to now see my muse listening so intently to words I never thought she’d hear.
I shoot her a side look before prodding her more. “He’s a little too growly, don’t you think? Trying too hard?”
“No, I like it.”
Her soft confession has me stumbling over my words.
“Yeah? What, um, do you like about it?”
“Hmm.” She closes her eyes as she thinks, turning her face upward, her lips pursed. The pose of a woman waiting to be kissed.
Unable to stop myself, my eyes drop to her sweet mouth as I wonder what it would be like to press my own against hers. My heart skips, probably in just as much shock as I am by the tidal wave of desire from that one thought.
Never have I thought about kissing Reese Brooks before.
But now that this tantalizing idea circles in my head, I’m confused why it’s never popped up before.
She’s attractive, smart, and never one to back down from a challenge.
Even when we’re arguing, her sense of humor makes me laugh, always catching me by surprise.
We’re evenly matched, competitive, and .
. . dang, I don’t want to think about it anymore—I just want to feel her mouth on mine.
I lick my parched lips, fighting the urge to lean closer.
One kiss wouldn’t hurt things . . .
But if I kissed her, the friendship I’ve been so desperate to fix might not survive the change. We’ve come so far in such a short amount of time. This could ruin everything.
Or maybe she’ll like it . . .
And what about Des? What would he think about me kissing his sister? Agh. If Reese didn’t murder me, he might. That could be another friendship down the drain.
No, I decide. As much as I want to . . . I shouldn’t.
She finally speaks, unaware of my internal battle. “It’s hard to pinpoint one thing. It’s more of how my body responds when I hear his voice. It’s like I know him—I’ve always known him. There’s a connection between us, and I . . . I just need to find him.”