Page 3 of Elusion

I forgot to thank her.

Once inside, I offer a tight-lipped smile to the disapproving stares as I cruise through the hallway. Everyone acts like they’ve never seen anyone wander through the science hall in only a towel, scarf, and the boldest hat imaginable.

Johnny’s laughter spills into the hall when I push the door open to the men’s room. “The dude is introducing himself, telling them he likes cats and shit. Totally worth the broken tom.”

“Which I already paid for,” I shout to whomever he’s talking to on the phone.

I slam the button on the hand dryer. The heat burns my stiff fingers, and even the mostly room-temp air hitting my feet stings. After finger function improves, I’ll need to double-check the symptoms of frostbite.

“Hey, Jordan.” Johnny snaps a picture when I raise my head.

Perfect.

I rip off the hat and scarf and toss them on the counter by the sink. He digs my phone, wallet, and keys out of his pocket while I swipe my T-shirt and jeans off the counter. Socks and boxers are noticeably absent, but I accept this. My punishment could have been far worse, given the gravity of my offense.

A few weeks earlier, when Johnny dropped Gavin’s bass guitar, Gavin made him jump into the lake and refused to let him bring a change of clothes. The poor guy formed icicles on the walk back to the van. I like to think the experience softened him to my benefit, if only slightly.

As I use a mirror to tame the dark mess on my head into its proper level of disorder, a security guard steps in. He closely monitors us as he checks for feet under the stalls. Johnny threatens to laugh, so I shoot him a warning glare. I’m not about to go down for his choice of punishment. Any trouble with the university would disrupt my parents’ plans for my future, and I prefer not to deal with them.

“You boys see anyone come in here with a towel on?” he asks.

I move in front of the one on the counter and nudge it into the sink behind me. We both shake our heads, Johnny overplaying his hand with a shoulder shrug. The security guard leers a few seconds longer before leaving. The door swings shut, and Johnny’s hysterics resonate through the stalls.

When we step into the cold air again, we head toward the parking lot. Heat pours from the vents in my Jeep, the engine still warm after my ten-minute excursion into the land of public indecency. An ache creeps into my toes as sensation returns.

“This picture of you should be all over Easton’s campus by this afternoon. Maybe we can use it as the band’s new flyer.”

Johnny’s comment reminds me of the hat and scarf in my coat pocket. I pull them out, and the front seat fills with the scent of … coconut maybe? No non-creepy way exists to smell someone else’s clothing, so I commit and press my nose to the hat. Still not sure.

“Dude, smell this.” I shove the hat in Johnny’s face. “Coconut?”

“Hell if I know, but it smells good.” He snatches the scarf from my hand and sniffs. “I detect a hint of eucalyptus.”

I’m not even going to tread on why he knows that.

With the scarf about halfway to my nose, I become conscious of the lady eyeing us from her parked car. I drop the scarf and throw the gear shifter in reverse before she calls campus security, and they search the vehicle for a body.

Shit. I missed her name. Haley? Molly? Who kisses someone without asking for their name?

Now that my brain is working outside of survival mode, I want to find her. At least to return her things and thank her. Maybe explain I’m not a nudist or apologize for kissing her longer than appropriate. But between the warmth radiating off her and those soft lips, I blocked out the unusual circumstances.

“Did you recognize those girls?”

Johnny grunts a no, helpful as always.

This part of campus includes the science building and freshmen dorms. Neither offers much information to go on. Freshmen females plus girls enrolled in science classes equals, you tool, why didn’t you ask for her name?

The answer’s obvious; I never think further ahead than five minutes.

I remember she mentioned coffee and flip on the blinker to turn right toward a new coffee shop on Anna Street. Johnny’s phone stops him from noticing our change of direction. He’ll carefully monitor the response to the picture for the rest of the day. Beta Void has a few gigs on the horizon that the guys have wanted to draw more attention to. So glad I could provide for them.

“You want anything?” I ask, parking across from Java Quest.

Another no grunt answers me.

Such an articulate individual, but his tattooed bad-boy persona more than makes up for it with the ladies. None of them care if he can put his emotions into eloquent words when he wails on the drums, shirtless, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

I leave the keys and stick the hat and scarf back in my pocket. Crossing the street, I have no clue what I’m doing. I kissed a random girl, bloodhound-smelled her clothing, and tracked her across campus. Hi, Jordan Waters, psycho stalker, sounds like a pretty accurate description of me at this point.

---