Page 16 of Collision
He plugs his ears with his hands, squinting his eyes, while Tiffany and I laugh out loud. We keep teasing him through the rest of lunch.
***
A few hours later I’m waiting for Travis off campus with arms folded, shivering in the cold autumn air. I’m still wearing just my pajama shirt because I forgot my jacket this morning as well. How long does it take to get a car from a parking lot? It’s already been ten minutes. Damn him.
I’m bouncing on my toes and rubbing my arms to warm them when someone lays a heavy leather jacket over my shoulders, making me wince. The next moment, I find Thomas beside me, sans his own familiar black leather jacket. I am so surprised by this thoughtful—too thoughtful?—gesture that I begin to immediately wonder what game he’s playing.
“Thank you, but I don’t need this.” I shrug the jacket off and hand it back to him, but he ignores me. He lights a cigarette and slightly squints his eyes. When he exhales, the smoke creates a grayish cloud that envelops him.
“Keep it,” he mumbles, as he fiddles with the small wheel of his lighter. “You’re shaking,” he adds after giving me a fleeting glance.
“To what do I owe this act of altruism?” I ask as I turn to face him.
He appears confused. “I wouldn’t call it altruism. Pity, if anything.”
What is that supposed to mean? He feels sorry for me? Like I’m some underfed stray dog running the streets? I shake my head, unnerved by his arrogance. “You know what? Take it back. I don’t need your sympathy.” I return his jacket roughly, hurling it at his chest. In response, Thomas lets out an amused grunt from deep in his throat.
“Touchy, touchy…”
“No, it’s you. You rub people the wrong way,” I retort, directing my gaze elsewhere. Thomas approaches and towers over me. I’m barely five-foot-six, and he looks like a giant next to me.
I swallow and try to pretend his sheer size doesn’t intimidate me. I have to tilt my head to look him in the eyes, trying to read something of his intentions there. He, with the cigarette clamped between his lips, drapes the jacket over my shoulders again, this time making sure to wrap me tightly in it. He sucks in a puff from the cigarette and slowlyblows the smoke into my face. Waving the cloud away, I give him a hate-filled look, which appears to just roll off his back.
“Expecting someone?”
“My boyfriend,” I hiss, with my arms crossed over my chest. Then, it occurs to me: if Travis showed up right now and saw me here with Thomas, wearing his jacket, he would have a total meltdown.
“Solve a riddle for me.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, closes his eyes, and blows the smoke out of his nostrils. “I’ve been wondering: Do you have a thing for assholes or is it daddy’s boys you’re into?”
I squint, bewildered.
“Travis isn’t—” I rush to defend him, but the little voice in my head stops me. He isn’t what? An asshole? He is, though. A daddy’s boy? Yeah, he’s that too. Thomas senses my wavering. He gives me the knowing smirk of someone who knows he’s hit the bull’s-eye. Okay, so give this round to Collins. That game is hardly over.
“And why are you here?” I ask to change the subject.
“I smoke and, you won’t believe it, but the college frowns on people smoking indoors.” He sucks in one last drag and tosses the butt a few feet away from us, never looking away from my face. “Crazy, right?”
“Well, you’re done smoking now.” I push the jacket into his arms, hoping to get rid of him before Travis arrives.
He slips it on and, instead of leaving, moves even closer to me. As he does, I get an intense wave of his vetiver scent. There’s something else as well, a fresh, masculine fragrance, a little bit like the grass right after a downpour. Overwhelming. “What, trying to get rid of me?” He grins.
“No, not at all,” I stammer, suddenly feeling my throat getting drier. “I’m just saying, you have no reason to be here anymore. Besides, Travis will be here any minute.”
Thomas sinks his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He seems to want to feign indifference, but the hint of a smirk betrays him. “It’s not too bad out here. There’s an interesting view.”
I look around, confused. What “interesting view” is he getting from a deserted parking lot, half-obscured by fog?
“I’d say there’s definitely better,” I mumble, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear as he stares intently at me for a handful of seconds.
“We should go out sometime.”
I look at him without blinking. I make a huge effort not to laugh in his face.
“Excuse me?” I manage, finally.
“For a drink. Nothing too challenging,” he says, completely confident.
“And why should we do that?”
