Page 36 of Twisted Promise

Thoughts of spending time with a bunch of strangers made him want to break out with hives. Anya met his eyes over the table, a silent agreement of understanding, and they quietly finished breakfast.

Anya left first, claiming she was headed to the restroom, but she turned left under the red exit sign. He followed a minute later after paying for the food and disappeared around the same corner.

Her hair peeked over the curve of his car as she waited for him, loose strands swaying when she was startled by the door unlocking.

Her eyes glowed with what he hoped was the intimacy of their memories. His steps became longer, faster, and more demanding. They left in a mess of quiet laughter, whispered urgency, and secretive proximity.

Nobody came after them, and that was fine.

Alessio grew surprisingly comfortable with the idea of being live-streamed through the camera perched on his windshield.

“Is it too late to ask if we’ll be in trouble?” she questioned, tapping her finger on her phone screen with the enthusiasm of someone hitting the snooze button one too many times.

Rather than answering, he asked what she was doing on her phone instead of helping him find a place to go. They were in such a hurry that the next step eluded them.

“I’m reading the comments,” she countered, his scarf laying possessively over her lap. “They’re asking if you use 3-in-1 men's shampoo or turbo car cleaner because it’s so silky.”

She stared at his hair, squinting her gaze skeptically. His shampoo was the same brand she used years ago; it was easy to reach for and didn’t clog up space.

“And they’re telling you to touch it,” he noted.

Social media was predictable in some ways.

Anya’s lips twitched into an uneasy smile, and she confirmed it under her breath.

“It’s a red light,” he said, redirecting her attention back to him. “Do it while you can.”

She hardly gave it a second thought before sliding her fingers into his hair. The soft strands curled around them, and she sneakily ruffled them out of habit. He loved it when she caressed his hair while he lay on her lap, a movie playing in the background, and salty snacks spread across the coffee table.

Those peaceful evenings blurred beautifully in his memory.

“It’s really soft,” she concurred to the viewers, her cheeks flaring with redness. “And smells good.”

“I’m not a creep,” Anya protested after reading the comments, quietly grumbling about his unfairly luscious hair and how it naturally parted down the semi-middle. “I mean, just look at him. He looks like he smells good.”

She winced forcibly, seemingly aware of how bad that came out.

“Thank you,” he uttered plainly, which got him a shooing motion from her hand and told him to focus on driving.

They still don’t have a destination.

“He’s nicer with you.” She re-read that and threw an unconvincing scoff at him.

“Was it not obvious enough?” he asked, very baffled.

From day one, Alessio wanted everyone to know that Anya was someone special to him. He felt like he had done a great job. Compared to how others were at the receiving end of his crude tongue, she had been placed on a pedestal.

“I like you,” he said, all serious sincerity and resolute commitment.

Crimson colored her face, forcing her ears to absorb the heat, and Anya curled inward to make herself smaller. She sputtered helplessly, eventually giving up on justifying his confession as a joke to the camera.

Silence returned, not suffocating this time. There was a noticeable lift at the corner of his lips, and her blush lingered on the side of her ears as she mindlessly scrolled through the comments.

By the time Alessio realized it, they had driven a fair distance from the café, ending up at a campsite on the edge of town.

The air was fresher and quieter, with an autumn breeze nestling between amber leaves.

A break from the world helped clear his mind as he sat on the bench, appreciating the frosty air mingling with Anya’s laundry detergent. He wanted to press his face into her neck because that was what he used to do.

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