Page 28 of Heart So Hollow

“You’re nothing if not thorough,” I say, wiping my fingers on a napkin and drop it next to my plate, “but I have to ask…”

“Mm-hm?” Colson rests his elbows on the edge of the bar and looks at me expectantly.

“Were you attacked by a bear in Alaska?”

He stares at me with amusement, “What?”

His response doesn’t surprise me. It was a vague story, if you could call it that, and the accuracy was questionable, just like most of the conversation that took place in the apartment before I left.

“My friend, Katie Van Outer, said her boyfriend, Dominic, knows you and that you used to street race and you went to Alaska and were attacked by a bear.”

Colson picks up his glass and gulps down the rest of his beer. Eyeing me, he retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his joggers and pulls out a credit card, dropping it on top of the check behind the plate of nachos.

“Yeah, I know Dominic,” he takes his time responding, knowing that I don’t actually care whether he knows Dominic or not, “and I can neither confirm nor deny my street racing experience,” he smirks, “but I did work in Alaska last summer. I saw a lot of bears, but I didn’t get attacked by any.”

“Not as exciting,” I concede, “but I’m glad that part wasn’t true.”

Once the bartender slides his card and a receipt back over the counter, Colson slides off his stool and pushes it back under the bar with his foot, “Anything else you want to know?”

Yes, where the hell do I recognize you from?

But, instead, I just shake my head, “That’s it…for now.”

He extends his hand and I take it, sliding off the bar stool. Except, when I loosen my grip, he doesn’t let go, rotating my hand and intertwining his fingers in mine. The chill of the night air gives me a burst of energy as I follow him down the pavement toward the path along the river, the beaming skyscrapers behind us giving the sky a greyish hue.

“You know,” Colson glances at me out of the corner of his eye, “I can show you a video of one of the bears.”

I stop dead in my tracks and look up at him, intrigued. He grins and motions to the brick wall lining the path. At the wall, I turn around and hop up on the edge while Colson begins scrolling through his pictures. Finally, he turns his phone on its side and hands it to me, tapping the play icon.

In the distance, a giant brown bear lumbers across the wet sand of a beach, coming closer to a cluster of tents. It takes a whole minute for the bear to arrive at the tents, where murmurs can be heard in the background. It towers over the tents and folding chairs before it stops, sniffs one of the chairs, and then continues on, unconcerned with the bystanders.

I look up at Colson, impressed, “Wow,” I hand the phone back to him, “OK, that’s pretty cool.”

He rolls his eyes, “Pretty cool…”

“I said it was cool!” I shoot back with a laugh.

“Fine,” he tucks his phone back into his coat pocket, “then tell me something cool about you.”

I take a deep breath, gazing out into the black water, “I don’t know.” I try to think of something as interesting as camping on beaches and getting sniffed out by apex predators, but nothing immediately comes to mind.

“Yes, you do,” Colson scoffs, “quit being shy.”

There is one thing. But I never really talk about it with anyone except Barrett. I stare across the path at a random spot in the grass, debating whether to even go there. But, for some inexplicable reason, Colson feels like a safe person to tell. Even if he did act like a douche…

Fine, what the hell.

I turn to meet his eyes, “I want to write books.”

Colson stares at me for a few moments, until I feel like maybe I made a mistake by telling him. Then a faint smile crawls across his face, “What kind of books?”

“Fiction. Thrillers, suspense, horror—dark stuff.”

He studies me with those icy fucking eyes, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m serious. I stare back at him, waiting for some reaction.

“Have you written anything?”

“Yes,” I look down at the pavement, “but nothing complete.”

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