Page 27 of Collision
“I’m not cold,” I insist.
“Tell the truth,” he teases me.
“What truth?” I look at him, confused.
“This is all just an excuse to get me to hug you. Sorry, but it’s not going to happen,” he snickers.
“It is absolutely not an excuse for any—” I start to say, before Irealize he’s teasing me again. “You are such a comedian, Thomas,” I say in a flat voice, narrowing my eyes at him.
A gust of wind suddenly picks up, rustling the trees around us. Some leaves break off and dance in the wind, eventually coming to rest, mostly in my hair. I sit up and try to pick them out but, in my usual bungling way, only manage to tangle them up more.
“Stop. Let me help,” Thomas leans toward me, stretching one hand out to my hair while holding my arm with the other. “I’m helping.”
“No need, I’ve got it,” I insist. I extract blades of grass and bits of dry leaves with no small amount of difficulty. He lifts a corner of his mouth, amused, but in the next moment, something in his gaze changes. He stiffens and becomes more alert. I am immediately alarmed.
“What? What is it?”
“If I told you to stay still, would you listen to me?”
“Why?” I hiss, almost breathless.
“Because you have a bug in your hair.”
What!?
My eyes snap open wide, and I begin to writhe and scream in panic. “Oh my God, that’s disgusting! Get it off! Get it off right now!”
“I would if you would stop thrashing like a lunatic.” I do not miss the amused tone with which he speaks to me. Clearly this is a great joke. For him. He leans toward me, and my breath catches in my chest. His breath is warm, very close now to my lips. When I feel his fingers move gently through the strands of my hair, I close my eyes fearfully and cover my face with my hands.
“Open your eyes,” he urges me after a little while, with a care in his voice that he has so far never reserved for me. But I shake my head no, lips pressed together tight, scared to death.
“C’mon, be brave.” He nudges me. I feel his hand grasping mine and trying to pull it away from my face, but I resist. An involuntary reflex. “I got it, you’re okay,” he murmurs soothingly against my ear.
I slowly lower my hands, coax myself to open my eyes, and I realize suddenly how close Thomas is to me. The tips of our noses are nearly touching. I shiver, my throat drier than the Sahara.
“Are you okay?” He curves his lips into a mischievous smile while I’m trying to remember how to swallow. I give a disjointed nod and, as I feel his gaze sliding slowly to my mouth, my stomach contracts, and a wave of heat sweeps over me from head to toe. I am helpless here, a breath away from his face, completely at the mercy of whatever move he makes.
Thomas inclines his head, as though fighting an impulse stronger than himself. “Fuck…” he curses through gritted teeth, closing his eyes. When he lifts his head up, the cold expression on his face immediately dampens the fire that was beginning to kindle in my body. There is no time to press my hands against his massive chest, no time to put the necessary safe distance between us before I am startled by a familiar voice behind us. My heart stops.
It’s Travis.
Nine
“What the fuck are you two doing out here together?” growls Travis, a few steps away from us. I turn to look at him, and I can see his face is already red with anger.
It can’t have been an hour already! I grab my book from the ground and spring to my feet in the blink of an eye, as though he’d found me in someone else’s bed rather than on the lawn. My heart is pounding, beating right out of my chest.
Travis is flushed and looks like he’s ready to explode. All of his muscles are tensed, and his eyes are menacing as he stares at Thomas and me. “Weren’t you going home, Vanessa?” He advances on us furiously. Travis has many faults, but violence has never been among them. Yet, in this moment, I am afraid of him. My God, how did I get myself into this situation? What was I thinking?
I try to say something, force myself to spit out some explanation, but panic seizes my throat. I’m so intimidated by Travis’s wrath that I instinctively retreat a few steps and hide behind Thomas, who has gotten up by now and is standing in Travis’s path.
“You’re scaring her, you idiot. We weren’t doing anything. Relax,” he answers for me in an irritated tone. Then, he lights up a cigarette with all the calm in the world.
“I just caught you all over my girl, and you’re trying to tell me it’s nothing? You better get the fuck out of here, or I swear—” Travis threatens, stabbing a finger at him.
“What? What are you going to do?” Thomas moves toward my boyfriend until they stand dangerously close, face-to-face. My legs are shaking, and I clutch my book tightly against my chest. I feel like I might faint. I want to speak, to intervene in this madness, but it feels like I’m watching the scene from far above, unable to do anything.
“Travis, please stop,” I shriek with tears in my eyes, finally managing to free myself from that fear paralysis. I try to grab my boyfriend’s arm, but in vain: in a fit of pure madness, Travis pounces on Thomas, slamming a fist into his gut. Thomas bends double, groaning. Distraught, I bring my hands to my hair.
