Page 64 of Collision
“Victor?” She nods impatiently. “He seems like a good person.”
She hugs me. “I knew you’d like him! Now go be with your friends, I’ll finish cleaning up.”
I join them, and Victor takes my place in the kitchen to help my mother. I chat a bit more with Alex and Stella before telling them to go enjoy the rest of their evening together. They have scheduled a trip to Siuslaw National Forest tomorrow, so I don’t want to take up any more of their time.
“Do you want to come with us tomorrow?” Stella asks.
“No, thanks. I think I need to be on my own for a while.”
“Are you sure?” She looks apologetic.
I nod. “We’ll do it again some other time.” I smile at her.
“Are you okay?” Alex asks me. I really appreciate that he has given Stella a heads-up about the situation with Travis.
“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” He pats me, tousling my hair in his usual way. I hug Stella, who reciprocates warmly. She is just as I had imagined her: sensible, sweet, and easygoing. Perfect for Alex.
“Good night, guys, and thanks for coming.”
Alex smiles at me, and then he intertwines his hand with Stella’s, and they leave.
***
I spend Sunday at home. The weather outside is gloomy, so I hole up in my room and read. After lunch, Tiffany keeps me entertained with a sprawling phone call. The afternoon, however, I spend studying. I start drafting some papers that I have to turn in within the next week and, before I realize it, it’s already dark outside.
After dinner, my mother asks me if I want to go for a walk downtown with her and Victor. I cheerfully decline. I have absolutely no desire to play third wheel with my mother and her new boyfriend, who has just had dinner with us for the second time.
Here I am, then, alone in this deserted house, which suddenly feels too quiet. I decide to go to my room and get ready for bed; I really need it. A bit early, I know, considering that it is only half past eight—thelast time I went to sleep at this time I was approximately seven years old—but I think it might do me some good to catch up on a few hours of sleep. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling above me, waiting to fall asleep. But my thoughts won’t give me any respite.
In less than a week, my life has changed completely. At this very moment, I was supposed to be at the concert in Portland with Travis, singing along until I was blue in the face. Instead, I’m lying in bed tossing and turning, looking for a comfortable sleeping position. I can’t seem to banish the memory of Thomas, which has been haunting me ever since yesterday morning. When I’m near him, I feel confused and vulnerable but, at the same time, I feel better than I ever have before. When I told him that the night I spent with him was a terrible mistake, I really meant it. Not for the reasons I think he assumed, though. Because now there is a part of me that feels connected to him. And no sane person would want to get entangled in Thomas Collins’s life.
Yet no matter how hard I try, my mind refuses to bury the memory of his lips on mine, of his warm and rough hands that seemed to crave my body, of his soft and good-smelling hair, and of the way that, every time he said my name, my heart would pound.
I kick off the comforter and go downstairs to the kitchen. If I can’t sleep, then I’ll have a niceShamelessmarathon—that should keep my mind occupied. I pop some popcorn in the microwave, pull a can of Coke out of the fridge, and throw myself into the recliner, covering my legs with a fleece blanket.
After a few episodes, that tattooed reprobate continues to occupy my thoughts. I check my phone every two minutes in the hope of getting a message from him, which I know I won’t because he doesn’t even have my number. And why would he text me? After the things I said to him, and the way I treated him, I wouldn’t want to see me either. Oh, to hell with it. Enough. I want to see him. For a moment, I am surprised by my own admission, but it is the truth.
Before the heat of the moment passes, without overthinking what I am about to do, I rush out of the house. Fortunately, Mom has left the Toyota here. I start the car and fifteen minutes later Ifind myself in front of his dormitory on campus. I ask some guys in the lobby for Thomas’s room number, and I don’t miss the amused expression they give me. As if to say,Here’s another girl looking for a good time.
I have to make a tremendous effort not to get upset by that thought.
I arrive in front of door D37 on the fourth floor and stare at it for a few moments, trying to muster up the courage to knock. My stomach is in knots, and anxiety is eating away at me. What if he refuses to see me? The last time we saw each other, I yelled at him and ordered him to leave me alone. He’ll think I’m more confused than he is. Not to mention that I’ve just realized I am still wearing my pajamas. I left the house so fast that I didn’t even change. Fortunately, I have a coat that covers me to my knees.
I take a deep breath and knock softly. I wait a while, but no one answers. I knock louder. I hear footsteps approaching from behind the door and my heart beats faster.
When the door opens, I am confronted by a short, awkward guy with a bag of chips under his arm. He’s definitely not Thomas.
“H-hello,” I say, confused.
“He’s not here,” he replies irritably, crunching a potato chip.
“W-what, sorry?”
“You’re looking for Thomas, aren’t you? They’re all looking for Thomas! But he’s not here. He’s never here on weekends.”
Right! It’s Sunday and he had told me that he stays at the frat house during the weekend. The thought disturbs me. Is he with some girl? I immediately imagine him tangled up with Shana or some other more beautiful and more experienced girl. Stupid! This is definitely a sign. Thomas Collins cannot be a part of my life, not now and not ever. I have to leave.
“Ah, um, sorry for the inconvenience, then.” I turn to leave but the boy stops me.
