Page 21 of Collision
“Well, I certainly won’t miss having classes constantly interrupted so someone can feed his ego.” I get up from the table, sling the book bag over my shoulder, and gesture for Alex to leave with me. Our first classes are going to start soon, and I have no desire to waste any more time with this bigheaded, tattooed prick.
“Okay, now explain to me what just happened. Do you know that guy?” Alex asks the moment we leave the cafeteria.
“No! Of course I don’t! We just have a couple of classes together, and he’s on the basketball team with Travis, you know that. He’s just a blowhard who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, nothing more complex than that.”
“We are talking about Thomas Collins, right? He never talks to a girl without ulterior motives.”
“If by ‘ulterior motives,’ you mean ‘irritating me at every available opportunity,’ then you are quite right.”
“You know what I mean, Nessy. Don’t be naive.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re way off base, Alex.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Then why are you blushing right now?”
“What? I’m not…I’m not blushing!”
“You are, though,” he insists with a grimace that says “gotcha.” “Look, I don’t know what you two are up to but—”
“We’re not up to anything!” I interrupt.
“I’m just saying, you’re better off not getting involved with him. You know I’m no Travis fan, but Thomas is somehow even worse. Besides, frankly speaking, I doubt he’s pursuing you for your own sake. He hates Travis.”
I know he’s saying this for my benefit, and I even know he’s gotseveral good points. Yet, for some strange reason that I cannot fully grasp, his advice annoys me.
“So he couldn’t possibly be attracted to me? Is that what you mean?”
“What?” he asks in amazement.
“I get it. Who could possibly be interested in a girl who spends her day reading or studying, a shut-in with no social life at all?” I look away from Alex, not wanting him to see my eyes get misty.
“What are you talking about?” Alex grabs my arm and pulls me back, forcing me to look at him before we enter the classroom. “Guys like Thomas don’t love anyone. All they know how to do is use women. Don’t fall into this trap,” he explains to me calmly.
“I’m not falling for any trap. Travis has already warned me to keep my guard up. He doesn’t even want me to talk to Thomas.”
“I hate to admit it, but Travis may have actually gotten something right this time,” says Alex.
“Well, I hate to admit this, but you are blowing things out of proportion,” I retort, annoyed. All this scaremongering is getting old, and I hate being treated like some helpless child. I know exactly what kind of man Thomas Collins is. And I know full well that people like him ought to be kept at arm’s length, if not farther away. “You should trust me,” I grumble as we sit down. “I mean, yes, he is indisputably hot, with that bad boy appeal, but I’m not an idiot.”
“That ‘bad boy appeal’…” he repeats, incredulous. “So you are into him, then?”
“What? No! I didn’t say that!” I sputter. Alex gives me a puzzled look, which manages to make me feel even more discombobulated. “And you seem to have forgotten the most important part of all this: I am in a relationship. I would never cheat on Travis. You know that about me.”
It’s true, what I’m saying. I am not a cheater. But why then do I feel like such a wreck whenever Thomas is around?
Seven
The morning went by without any other problems. I didn’t see Thomas again, and the tension with Alex dissipated. After spending most of the afternoon in the library to get ahead on my studying, I head to the gym for Travis’s practice.
Before entering Dixon, I stop at the vending machine to get a bottle of water. The hallway is a little creepy at this time of evening. There’s always an eerie silence. The walls are yellow ochre, the neon lights give off an annoying hum, and it’s always cold. Shivering, I push a series of coins into the machine and type in the code, but just before the bottle drops, it gets stuck. The usual bad luck!
I try to shake the machine, but it’s too heavy. I bang on the glass and the sides, but to no avail. I look around, hoping to find someone who can help me, and mercifully, I hear male voices heading in my direction.
Speaking of bad luck, mine seems to keep on haunting me. Up come Matthew, Finn, and Thomas, phones in hand, just like this morning at the coffee shop.
“Vanessa, what are you doing here?” asks Matt. “I would hug you, but I’m dripping with sweat.”
I smile at him. “It’s okay, let’s just say you did.”
