Page 55 of Between the Lines

Silence has been my escape and my closest friend, forged by the chaos in which my life unfolded. But here, for some reason, I don’t need it as a security blanket. Instead, my body is painstakingly trying to push the silenceout, to replace it with any and every version of Claire Benson that it can manage.

“Did you have an easier time with the clock tonight?”

“Yeah. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“You seemed like it. You kind of reminded me of Bilbo’s transformation inThe Hobbit—he started out cautiously, but eventually gained confidence and grew into his role.”

The moment that quip rolls off my tongue, I want the pavement to crack open and swallow me whole.

AHobbitjoke, Nate? Really? That’s exactly how you’re going to lose her?—

“Oh my God.” She giggles, and I debate following the sidewalk until it meets up with oncoming traffic. “Youwouldbe a Bilbo guy.”

I tilt my head in question as we arrive at her car, and turn to face her.

“I… would?”

“Yeah. He’s, like a hundred years old and likes books, right?”

There’s mischief in her eyes, and as I let her retort sink in, I remember that I’ve misjudged Claire on every attempt. I thought my nerdiness would tank any progress we’ve made and yet…

“You’ve readThe Lord of The Rings?”

“I’ve seen the movies. The first two, anyway. The books are on my endless TBR. Maybe I’ll get to them when I’m ninety.”

Her grin adds constellations to the overcast sky, and it takes everything in me not to reach for her.

“That reminds me, did you get to start your book yet?”

The fall of her face, tilt of her head, and the subtle way she bites the inside of her cheek answers before her words to.

“No. My mom wanted to ‘chat about priorities,’ and after that was finished, I was too mentally drained to pick it up.” A far-away glaze coats her eyes, and suddenly, my chest is tight for a different reason. “Oh well. I’ll get ‘em next time.”

“What about tonight?”

For some reason, my heart aches at the thought of her not getting time to herself.

“I don’t know. I mean, Michael and Zoey are both at sleepovers tonight, and my parents took the little ones to a trampoline park to tire them out since Big Sister Claire was otherwise occupied, so they’re probably having wine on the couch. I might be able to sneak past them if?—”

“You can come over to my place.” It exits me before I have the chance to think. Before she can startle any more. “You won’t have to sneak around. I also have a big leather chair and a fireplace.”

My heart rate has tripled in the past five minutes, kickstarting when she met myLord of the Ringsjoke with her own fire, now stampeding at the fact that I not only just invited her to my place of solitude, but that the prospect of her turning me down strangles the grip that had loosened around my throat.

“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate to ask. I just know how little you get time to yourself. You work so hard, and you deserve to do something for yourself that isn’t attached to your job. I only wanted to help. And, maybe selfishly, I don’t want our time together to end.” Swallowing, I think back to our conversation in my office. “You said you’d like to revisit the way I can’t seem to let you go on another day. How does today sound?”

I watch a kaleidoscope turn different expressions over in her eyes. The poised, intelligent woman that I missed in my judgement combines with the girl who is afraid to reach out and claim what she wants, too scared to see what she deserves. I want to give her that more than I want my next breath.

I can hear the cogs turning as her lips part, the tension gathering on her shoulders, adding to the mountain that comes from the pressures of home. But it relaxes, and her cheeks turn that cotton candy color, her lips purse into a small, secret smile, and she whispers, “Okay.”

twenty-four

claire

In the biggestplot twist of the century, I am on my way to Nathan Harding’s house on a Friday night. I guess all of the horror stories about not getting into a van with a stranger didn’t work, because all the man had to tell me was that he had a big leather chair in front of a fireplace and that I could read my book there.

I guess my parents never warned me about what to do when a stranger treated you kinder than you get at home.

In this moment, I’m the most glad that I keep an emergency kit in my purse, stocked with extra deodorant, body spray, and all sorts of mouth refreshers.

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