Page 14 of Collision
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I know my sister. She’s got a big mouth.”
“You’re right to be concerned.” I lean toward him, resting one hand on his shoulder, and I don’t miss the way his body stiffens at my touch. “She told me all your darkest secrets,” I whisper.
“She must not have told you much, then,” he replies nonchalantly. “I have no secrets.”
“Everybody has secrets, Thomas.”
“You sure about that?” He narrows his eyes. “So, let’s hear it then, what’s your secret?”
“My basement is full of the mummified remains of cocky pricks who like to torment me,” I answer immediately, coaxing a soft laugh from him. I’m getting the idea that the more belligerent I become the more he enjoys mocking me.
Now he’s the one to draw closer, bringing his lips to my ear so I can feel his warm exhalation on me as he whispers, “It’s a good thing there’s none of those around here.”
I am certain of just a few things in life. One of them is that I absolutely should not have gotten that strange swooping feeling in my belly at Thomas’s low whisper. Disturbed, I clear my throat and try to compose myself, still very aware of how close his lips are to my skin.
“You can rest easy; your sister didn’t tell me anything.” I reestablish the proper distance between us and turn my attention back to the movie, ignoring my burning cheeks. Thank goodness he can’t see my blush in the darkened classroom.
“Cute shirt, by the way,” he murmurs mockingly.
And then I remember I’m wearing a pink pajama shirt with a winking bunny and a rabbit pun on it, and I pray that a chasm opens up in the floor and swallows me whole. Only after he is sure that I’ve been thoroughly embarrassed does Thomas avert his gaze. He ignores me for the rest of class. When we are dismissed and I’m about to say goodbye and leave, he’s already on his feet. He heads for the door without giving me so much as a glance, leaving me, once again, stunned.
What the heck?
I’m trying to figure out what is more upsetting to me: that Thomas left without even saying goodbye or that it is bothering me so much, whenAlex catches up with me. We walk through the halls talking about the lives of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Then Alex tells me about his photography class and shows me some black-and-white shots from yesterday’s session. I praise him for the pleasant melancholy they evoke. Having finished the morning’s classes, we decide to get lunch in the cafeteria.
“I told Travis and Tiffany to meet us there,” I tell Alex, taking my phone from my bag.
“Is that necessary? I mean, Tiff’s great. But I’d rather have lunch without the risk of projectile vomiting. Which tends to happen when Travis is around.”
“Come on, Alex, please make an effort? He’s not going to be a jerk.” Or at least that’s what I’m hoping.
“Really?” he asks sarcastically. “I didn’t think he knew how to be anything else.”
“Please give him one more chance. If he gets out of line, I swear it will be the last time.” I give him the doe eyes, my winning move.
Alex wraps his arm around my shoulders. “All right, all right, I guess I can just ignore him like always.”
“Sounds like a good compromise to me!” I tell him with a big smile.
We find a free table in the crowded cafeteria, and, while waiting for the twins to arrive, we joke about our English Lit professor and his toupee, which jostled with every step he took and required constant adjustment.
“Tiffany knew right away that he was wearing a rug!” I say, opening my can of soda.
“At a certain age, you should just resign yourself to it,” Alex says.
“I don’t know, baldness is making a comeback! I read about it in one of Mom’sVogues.”
Alex gives me a horrified look. “When has it ever been in fashion?”
“You’re kidding, right? Most bald men are sexy as hell!”
“Come on,” he says skeptically. “Name a few.”
“Dwayne Johnson. Vin Diesel. Corey Stoll, not to mention Jason Statham! Oh, Alex, he’s… Well, he’s just a god among men,” I exclaim dreamily.
“Okay, okay. Wipe the drool off.” He dabs the corner of my mouth with a napkin teasingly. I’m elbowing him in the shoulder when, from a distance, we see the twins approaching. Travis gives me a kiss and takes a seat across from me. He says hello to Alex with a pat on the back, and my friend reciprocates without much enthusiasm. That’s something, right? Basic civility? I don’t have time to ask how they are doing, because Tiffany, bewildered, looks at my pajama sweatshirt and asks, “What are you wearing, gorgeous?”
