Oakley
Two
The knuckles rapping against my window jar me from my daze, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that I’m not still clutching my mostly empty coffee cup. Tucking a lock of long blonde hair behind my ear, I grip the steering wheel for a moment, willing my heart to calm before rolling down the window.
A man who has to be in his late twenties, early thirties bends down, resting his dust-covered forearm on the edge of the window.
His closeness causes me to lean back on instinct, trying to put as much distance between myself and the stranger.
By the way he’s crowding my space, he may as well climb into the passenger seat.
“Can’t cross here. You’ll have to go around.
” His voice is gruff, as if worn down from years of inhaling dust and debris, but there is an underlying teasing lilt to it as well.
He squints at me before his light brown eyes drift down the front of my shirt.
A smirk tilts up the corner of his mouth, jostling the toothpick pressed between his lips into a salute.
“Is there no way I can get through? It’s just that I’m late for a meeting. I really need something to go right today.” I didn’t mean to blurt out that last part, but it’s true.
After so much shit, I need a win, and I foolishly thought I had been on my way towards one.
“No can do. Can’t cross through an active work zone. Especially not in that car.”
The way he says that car has indignation sparking color into my cheeks. Ahead of me, the entire right lane of the road is blocked off, but the left lane is clear, save for a few of the men meandering around. I swallow my pride and plaster on my brightest smile.
“Listen, Mr…”
“Justin,” he provides, his eyebrow cocked as he waits for me to continue.
“Mr. Justin.” God, it sounds even more ridiculous out loud. “I have a tour at Mountainside Apartments, like, right now, and I really need to get there as soon as possible.”
Mostly, so I don’t have to sleep all night on the side of the road in my car, praying a mountain lion doesn’t come through and attack me.
“Sorry, doll. Can’t letcha through.” His tone is unwavering as he stares blatantly at my chest.
For fuck’s sake.
Someone grabs Justin by the scruff of the neck and yanks him backwards. He lets out a low curse as he goes tumbling, a broad smile still splitting his face.
Before I can blink, another face appears at my window, blocking out the sight of Justin behind him.
Striking emerald eyes, the color of the pine trees that surround us, peer back at me from beneath long dark lashes.
He looks to be around the same age as Justin, maybe a little older, his deeply tanned skin smooth, save for the smile lines at the corner of each eye.
My eyes drop lower to the small, but genuine, smile that graces his full lips.
“Sorry about him. You never can beat back all the wildlife around here.”
A joke. That was a joke, Oakley.
My blush deepens, and I clear my throat, nervously tucking another stray strand of hair behind my ear in a nervous tic.
“Right, sorry. I really need to get through. I have an appointment…” I trail off, my eyes darting to the clock on the dash.
I’m now running seven minutes late for my meeting with the building manager.
I swallow a groan, my nerves tightening and twisting in my stomach the longer I sit here wasting time.
“I’m sorry. Justin’s a dick, but he’s right. You’ll have to go around.”
This time, there’s no holding back the groan as I drop my head back against the headrest and roll my eyes up to the stained headliner. Taking a deep breath, I hold it for a moment before letting it out slowly and meeting the stranger’s eyes again.
They’re soft and apologetic, but not the kind of polite apology typically reserved for someone you don’t know. His eyebrows furrow to form a small crease between them, but his eyes still hold the same gentleness as when he first appeared at the window.
“I take it you’re not from around here.” It’s not a question, and the words hold no judgment. It almost makes it worse.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask warily, my words hollow, but no less true. Speaking them aloud seems to give physical form to my mental exhaustion.
I am so tired of being tired.
I’m tired of being the outsider.
I’m tired of running.
I need a break, and this is supposed to be it. It feels like every minor setback digs me a little deeper into myself, and at this point, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to dig myself out.
The man flashes me another one of those gentle smiles and places his arm on the window, gesturing ahead of us and to the right. It doesn’t feel as intimidating to have him close like it did when Justin did it. That fact alone should be raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
Then again, if the past few months and the life I’m running from are any indication, my inner sense of self-preservation is clearly skewed.
“Tell ya what. You’re going to take a right up ahead and follow that all the way down.”
I nod absently as the man gives directions, trying my best to commit them to memory. He talks slowly, glancing over at me to make sure I’m understanding, nothing but kind patience in his tone. I listen carefully and nod along.
When he finishes speaking, he turns to look at me, and my breath catches in my throat at his intense green gaze.
I stare for the briefest of moments, taking note of the way the sunlight reflects off the flecks of gold in his irises.
I avert my gaze and nervously fumble with the bag on the passenger seat, if only to give myself something to do with my hands.
The breeze blows gently through the window, carrying with it the smell of fresh air and sweat, and I breathe a little deeper. If only I could capture the alluring scent and carry it with me.
What the hell is wrong with me? Now, instead of driving like hell towards the meeting I’m already late for, I’m sitting here sniffing a stranger, my body practically begging me to rub myself in his scent.
I am fucking losing it.
“Thank you so much,” I say, truly meaning it. “I should get going; I’m already late.”
He nods, gives me a small smile, and raps his knuckles twice on the window frame before taking a step back from the car.
My mind clears a bit in the absence of him, and I refocus on the task ahead—remembering his directions long enough to get me where I need to go. I put the car back in drive, inching forward towards the road he indicated.
“Don’t be a stranger. It’s a small town. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” he calls as I start to pull away. Awkwardly, I raise a hand in farewell as I make the turn and set out on the open stretch of road ahead of me.
I try and subsequently fail to repeat his instructions as I drive, but for whatever reason, only those last few words of his echo in my mind.
I’m sure I’ll see you around.
Something in those words sounded like a silent promise, and I recall, with no small amount of trepidation, the way those same words sounded all those months ago—the night before my entire life changed.
But unlike Travis, the way the stranger said them held a hidden promise of an entirely different sort.
Curiosity claws at me as I take the first turn. I wonder if I’ll be around long enough to figure it out.