Page 142 of Collision
Puzzled, I stare at the screen for a few seconds.Who’s this?
Come out.
It’s after midnight. No one in their right mind would ask me to go outside in the middle of the night, especially in this downpour. I come to the conclusion that whoever it is has simply gotten the wrong number or is trying to play some stupid prank on me. I don’t reply and putthe phone back on my bedside table. I lie back down and stare at the darkened shape of my ceiling. A few moments later, another message comes through:
I have something that belongs to you.
What the heck?
I pull the covers off and leap out of bed. I peel the curtain away from the window and scan the driveway and the front yard. Right at the corner of my house I catch a glimpse of something, but the poor lighting and the thick rain prevent me from really seeing it. I squint a bit and realize that it’s a motorcycle. His motorcycle.
I spin around with my heart in my throat. I start pacing the room, nibbling my thumbnail, not sure what to do.
What is Thomas doing here? And how the hell did he get my number?
Oh God, if my mother finds out, she’ll actually kick me out of the house.
Bad timing, Collins, really bad timing.
I’ll give you five seconds, if you don’t come down, I’ll come up.
I goggle. No way.
I’m coming,I reply. I quickly slip on my boots and a gray chunky wool cardigan a few sizes too big for me. In front of the mirror I fix my fluffed-up, tousled hair, then I rush downstairs, trying not to make any noise.
Before opening the door, I close my eyes and take a breath deep. Be strong, Vanessa, and don’t let your guard down for anything.
When I come out, I find him leaning against the wooden porch railing a few feet away from the door. His legs are crossed at the ankles in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyelashes are beaded with tiny drops of rain, and his damp hair is plastered to his face. His clothes are soaked. The black sweatshirt and dark, low-slung jeans give him that typical careless look that makes my stomach clench every time.
You like what you see, don’t you, Vanessa?needles that stupid little voice in the back of my head. I shake my head slightly, trying toshut her up.
I close the door behind me and lean back against it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask determinedly.
Before answering, Thomas just stares at me for a few moments with a piercing gaze. The chills that run through me have nothing to do with the cold.
Come on, Vanessa. You can do this.
“I was riding.” He nods his head toward the road behind him. “And I found myself here,” he concludes, looking back at me.
“You were riding in this weather? That’s not very wise of you,” I answer, frowning.
Thomas levels a challenging stare at me. “Do I look like a wise person to you?”
I sit down on the small sofa next to the door. “Not even a little bit.”
He shrugs. “I was already out when it started raining.”
He was out late at night? Awesome. For my own sake, I decide not to investigate further.
“You should have gone back home,” I say angrily, trying to look anywhere else.
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“I guess you were having too much fun.”
“Not so much. I went to the Marsy for a few beers with the guys. You didn’t work today,” he says immediately.
