Page 32 of Ticket to You

ADAM

Ophelia comesdown the old creaky stairs in our cabin wearing a mid-calf baby blue dress that shows off her shoulders and arms. It’s not skintight, but it hugs along her curves like water rushing through the bends of a river. Timothee was already smitten by her when she looked like a burnt marshmallow in her massive puffy coat. He’s going to short-circuit when he sees her in this.

“You’re wearingthaton your date?” I ask.

Ophelia whips her head to me and catches my eyes tracing the length of her dress. “I know you’re not a fan of my style, but fashion is hardly an area I need your input in.”

“I wouldn’t dare. But you’re going to drive the poor kid feral.”

She sneers. “It goes halfway down my calf, Adam. Maybe you’re projecting on the ‘poor kid.’”

I clench my jaw.WhydoI care?I ask myself, though I already know the answer to that question. Before I can dwell on that newfound understanding, a knock sounds at the door.

Ophelia walks to the door with long strides and her nose high, looking like she belongs on a runway. “Don’t wait up,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me and flipping her perfectly curled hair behind her shoulder.

Soon after Ophelia leaves, I get a text from Eloise.

How are things going on your trip? And more importantly, how are things going with Ophelia?

I’m not sure how to answer either question, so I ignore them both.

* * *

Though I tryto stay productive while Ophelia and Timothee are out to dinner, I spend most of the night on the porch, waiting for them to return. When they do, I watch as Timothee opens Ophelia’s car door for her and walks her to the door on the other side of the cabin. As much as I would love to play it cool, I find myself leaning over the porch’s railing so I can keep them in my sight.

Silver moonlight reflects off Ophelia’s skin, and, judging by the way Timothee is staring at her, I imagine he thinks it’s as beautiful of a sight as I do. They talk for a few minutes, though I’m too far to hear anything. When Ophelia turns to the front door, Timothee grabs her elbow and spins her back to face him. My jaw tightens. I already know what’s coming. Timothee leans down slowly and closes his eyes. But at the last second, Ophelia dips away from his attempted kiss, offers him an awkward, distant hug, and rushes inside.

A strange relief washes over me, and I sink against the railing. After Timothee drives away, I smile up at the stars as they dot the sky. The air is crisp and refreshing, carrying with it the subtle fragrance of pine trees that surround the area. The quaint town below, adorned with charming cottages and overflowing flowerbeds, exudes a sense of serenity that I’m only now able to appreciate.

Soon, Ophelia joins me on the porch. When I look at her, her face in a grimace, I feel a grin spreading across my cheeks.She doesn’t like him.

Ophelia folds her arms over her chest. “And what exactly is so funny?”

I tilt my head and try to tone my expression down. “No goodnight kiss for Timothee?”

Her mouth pops open, and she throws a notebook at me. It’s open to pages filled with notes. “I only went on that date to get a second chance at Timothee’s interview. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

I pull myself up so I can sit on the railing. Surprisingly, even in her dress, Ophelia does the same.

“Thank you for your help, Brooks…Really, thank you. And I’m sorry for spying on you two. And as far as the date, I thought maybe Timothee could have some kind of Stockholm syndrome effect on you. Like he’s the reason you were up thousands of feet in the air, and yet somehow you find himirresistible.”

Ophelia shudders. “Ugh, I hate dates. Idon’tdate. And my job is on the line here.”

“You never date?”

“I don’t have time for dating. Not to mention, it just complicates everything.” Ophelia pauses, her lips tightening. “Not that you can relate to that.”

I turn to Ophelia, but her eyes are up at the inky blue sky, exposing her long neck. Who knew a neck could be attractive? Objectively speaking, of course. I’m so distracted watching Ophelia, I nearly forget what she just said.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “I don’t date either.”

Ophelia rolls her eyes. “Did you tellElthat?”

A laugh rumbles out of my throat, so loud it startles Ophelia. “Yeah, Eloise knows that.”

“Are you in one of those open relationships? How modern.”

“Eloise is my sister,” I say, deadpan.

---