Page 84 of Collision
“I don’t know,” I say, getting serious. “Friendship is important. You can’t just wing it. It takes commitment, consistency, respect. For someone who doesn’t want relationships, forging a bond of friendship could be a real problem,” I explain, firmly convinced of what I am saying.
“Then teach me how to be a good friend.”
My eyes roam over him. “Do you really want to do that? You actually intend to be my friend?”
He nods decisively. “Friends, Vanessa, just friends.” But the glint in his eyes is in stark contrast to the words he is saying. Yet I decide to believe him anyway. Tiffany was right: I can’t let go of him.
A moment later, a friend of Thomas’s pulls him aside. They stop to talk for a few minutes, and I take the opportunity to pick my reading back up from where I had stopped. I need something to relieve the tension, but not even one of my beloved books seems to be able to do it. Thomas returns to sit at my side and, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him staring at me for a long moment. I force myself to keep my eyes on the page, so as not to let him see how his proximity puts me off-kilter, but my constant worrying of my lip and wild jiggling of my foot betray me. And Thomas decides to make matters worse by placing his hand on my thigh. The unexpected contact startles me. “Don’t be nervous, stranger. We haven’t talked in a while, but it’s still me and it’s still you,” he reassures me.
I look up at him and nod, as tense as a violin string.
“Want a coffee?” he suggests with his usual cheeky smile, saving me from short-circuiting entirely.
“Yes, great idea.”
I watch him get out of his chair and pull a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his ripped, black jeans, and stick one cigarette behind his ear.
As soon as he notices me looking at him, he gives me a wink. It’s a harmless gesture, but one that makes me blush nonetheless. I look down and pass him quickly to keep him from noticing the flush on my face.
“What classes do you have today?” I ask as we head to the cafeteria.
“Law. Two Hours. With Thompson, who’s going to enjoy reading me the riot act.”
“And why exactly will she do that?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
I nod, preparing for the worst.
“I had a good time with her granddaughter this summer. ApparentlyThompson found out about it recently and didn’t like the way I ended things,” he explains simply.
“Can you blame her?” I mutter, avoiding his gaze.
“She’s convinced that her granddaughter is a little Goody Two-shoes; she has no idea what the girl is really like. So yeah, she’s wrong,” he replies, all conviction.
“She’s still her granddaughter,” I point out to him. “And, either way, you should show more respect toward women,” I admonish him. He rolls his eyes, so I add, “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to stop talking like a caveman just because we’re friends now.”
I can feel a few passing female students staring at us. Ugh, not again. I wonder how Thomas manages to stay sane.
“Don’t give it too much weight,” he snaps me out of my musings, as if he’s read my mind.
“It’s annoying. I mean, apparently me just being seen with you is enough to antagonize half the school.” For a month, I had spared myself Shana’s dirty looks, but it took just one walk down the hallway to reignite the fuse. “I just wish they could understand that I am not a competitor in the bare-knuckle brawl for Thomas Collins’s heart.”
“The only brawl they can hope for is the one in my bed.”
“Well, even then, I pose no threat.”
Thomas gives me a sidelong grin, before opening the cafeteria door and letting me through. “And you, do you have classes today?” he asks, ending our previous conversation.
“English literature, why?”
He shrugs as though his question were completely unmotivated, yet the thoughtful look that creases his brow makes me think the opposite is true.
“I’m going to get some coffee,” he says.
“Okay, can you get me a sugar-free long shot?” I ask. I sit down at the table and check my phone for notifications.
I’m scrolling through social media on my phone when Thomas returns with coffees and a muffin.
