Page 25 of Collision
“Curious.”
Thomas gives me an eloquent look but does not reply. He spreads the bandana out on the ground and invites me to rest my head on it. I can’t deny that the gesture warms my heart a little.
“Did somebody inject you with pleasantness?” I tease. “Or have you perhaps discovered that you have an incurable disease and now offer good deeds to anyone who crosses your path?”
“It’s just a bandana,” he grumbles. “You looked like you were on the verge of a hysterical episode.”
“That’s not true.” Sitting next to him, I elbow him in the ribs and bite my lip. He smiles genuinely for the first time since I’ve known him. I want to point that out to him, but I have a feeling that, if I did, he would instantly stop.
“Yeah, you did. You made the same disgusted face I make every time I have to see your boyfriend in the showers,” he says wickedly, and my smile dies on my lips.
“Am I ever going to find out why you two hate each other so much?”
Thomas ignores me.
“Hey, I asked you a question. Did you hear me?”
He sighs in frustration, ruffling that lock of hair that constantly falls over his forehead. “Hard not to hear you…” He’s quiet for a moment, before continuing, “Suffice it to say that your boyfriend is a moron. And you should open your eyes.”
“Be more specific,” I press, feeling a strange sense of foreboding.
“You’re together, right?” he blurts out angrily, his eyes full of hate. “If you have any doubts, fucking ask him.”
I’m startled by this unexpected aggression. “Sorry, I…wasn’t trying to make you mad,” I murmur, disheartened.
Thomas lets himself fall back on the lawn, while I am overwhelmed by a thousand feelings and even more questions. I torture myself trying to think of a plausible reason for the intense hatred he harbors toward Travis—and Travis toward him—but I come up empty. I feel like there’s just so much that I’m not being told.
It’s Thomas who pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. He picks up the book I was reading and waves it in the air. “Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen,” he reads from the cover. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Why am I not surprised?” I can tell by the way he speaks that he’s trying to let me know that his anger has subsided.
“Do you like reading?” I ask hopefully.
“It’s boring.”
I press a hand to my chest in mock grief. “You have broken my heart.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he teases me. I’ll allow it, this time.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me about it?” he asks curiously.
“This one is about the lives of two very different sisters. One is passionate and spontaneous, the other more logical.”
“And what happens to these two sisters?”
“They fall in love with two men, also very different, and that love changes them all profoundly.”
He doesn’t answer, instead setting the book down on the lawn again and sitting up before lighting a cigarette.
“You want one?” he asks, holding the pack out to me.
“No, thank you.” He smirks, as if he’d been expecting that answer. “Don’t you smoke a little too much for an athlete? I thought there were very strict rules about that.”
“There are, but I can’t help it.”
“And your coach is okay with that?”
He laughs a bitter laugh. “If by ‘okay’ you mean ‘threatens to suspend me every other day,’ then yes, I would say he’s okay with it. He’ll never go through with it, though. He needs me. We both know that.”
