Page 128 of Collision
“You can keep it, if you want,” he says.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I want you to have it.”
A shy smile creeps onto my face. “Okay,” I murmur.
Silence falls again between us, the reckless driving subsides a little, and I am finally able to relax a bit. I realize, though, that we are not going to my house; Thomas is headed to campus. I turn to him, confused, brush a strand of hair from my face and ask, “Aren’t you taking me home?” He tilts his face slightly toward me and shakes his head no.
When we arrive, the campus is dark and deserted, illuminated only by a few streetlamps that give off a dim glow. As we’re getting out of the car, the cold night air shocks me from my torpor. My teeth chatter, and I hug myself.
As soon as Thomas notices, he comes around the car to join me. “Can you explain to me how you are always so cold?”
I tilt my head to get a better look at him. “It’s two o’clock in themorning, I’m wearing damp clothes, and my hair is still wet.” Thomas wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me against himself to warm me up, or maybe to comfort me, I can’t tell. All I know is that I dig my nose into his chest and let myself be enveloped by his warmth.
The suite is empty and pleasantly warm. Thomas tells me that Larry is at a gamer party, so he won’t be coming back anytime soon. Apparently, the only way to get him out of the dorm for the night is to engage him in a game ofDungeons & Dragons. I slip my bag off my shoulder and set it down on the table. This simple movement causes my mouth to twist in a grimace of pain.
“Does it hurt?” Thomas blurts out, watching me grimly. “And don’t bullshit me.”
“A little,” I admit, as he moves closer to me, alert, and pushes back my shirt to check for bruises with his own eyes.
“It’s swelling. You’ll have a bruise tomorrow. Better get some ice on it,” he explains coolly before backing off to reestablish a physical distance between us. I watch as he slips off his shoes, his sweatshirt, and his jeans, until he is wearing only his tight black boxers, which are still wet.
I remain motionless behind him before swallowing. “W-what are you doing?”
“Taking a shower,” he answers carelessly. “Wanna join me?”
Another time, I would have taken it as a provocation. But the blank expression on his face leads me to believe he’s not interested in joking right now either.
“Um, no, thanks. I prefer to shower alone. At my house,” I reply, a little embarrassed.
“Whatever. There’s beer in the fridge. Or, you know, water. Help yourself. Ice is in the freezer,” he says, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I sit on the couch and let out a deep breath. Propping my head up on the backrest and looking at the ceiling, the sound of running water lulls my confused mind. So much has happened; I feel like this has been the longest night of my life. In an instant, I went fromresting in Thomas’s arms to weathering Travis’s outburst. I’d never seen him so upset before. When I think about just how much my life has changed in the space of a little more than a month, I don’t recognize myself. All the familiar landmarks from my old life have collapsed, and now, on Thomas’s couch, I also feel transformed. I sigh again and put my hair back in a ponytail. When I move my left arm, I feel another twinge in my shoulder. I decide to take Thomas’s advice and put ice on it.
About ten minutes later, the bathroom door opens, and the living room is hit with a wave of steam. Thomas comes out with one white towel wrapped around his hips while using a smaller one to rub his hair. The prominent veins in his arms stand out even more with the motion. A few droplets of water run down his abs, before disappearing into the edge of the towel. His sculpted body makes me forget about everything else for a few interminable moments.
“Are you ever going to get used to it?” He smirks as he disappears into his room.
“G-get used to what?” I blink and shake my head, trying to banish that image from my mind. I put the bag of ice on the table. The pain has eased up a little.
“To my body.”
I immediately turn red and am very thankful that he’s in the other room. I close my eyes, grab a cushion from the sofa, and bury my face in it, cursing myself.
“You’re so full of yourself, Thomas. I like your tattoos, that’s all…” I stammer out, trying to sound believable.
“Yes, of course. I really like your eyes too,” he answers mockingly from the other room.
I frown. “Are you trying to say that you don’t really like them?” Should I be offended?
“I like your eyes.” He returns to the living room wearing only a low-slung pair of sweatpants. His hair is still damp and tousled. “But I much prefer your ass. Your tits,” he continues, looking me over greedily as he gets a beer from the fridge. “Your legs.” He gestures to them withthe bottle, advancing upon me with a sensual stare that lights me up from within. “Your cu—”
My eyes bulge. “Okay, stop! I get it,” I interrupt him, face ablaze, as he laughs under his breath.
He sits down next to me, rests his beer on the low table in front of us and looks at me intently for a few seconds. “You’ve got my whole head fucked up, Ness. All of you.”
My heart leaps in my chest. How can he say something like that so easily when I can barely hold his gaze? I smile at him, in my usual awkward and embarrassed way, sinking my teeth into my lip. He smiles back, but it is a weak, unhappy smile. The kind of smile that hides something. I have the feeling that he is not at peace with himself, like he feels some guilt toward me. I can see in his eyes that he wants to ask how I am and make sure I’m okay, but for some reason, he doesn’t.
