Page 102 of Damnation
But eventually, I feel him sigh against the nape of my neck. He lets his face drop into the hollow of my shoulder and presses his body against mine. “You always choose wrong,” he grumbles before slipping into a deep sleep. I just keep staring at the closed blinds in front of me, a flicker of hope lighting up my heart and making me think that maybe Tiffany and Alex were wrong. Maybe, with a little time and patience, we can leave all this behind us and start fresh.
Gently rocked by his deep breathing, I end up falling asleep as well. I don’t get out of his bed until it’s time to start my shift at the Marsy.
***
Thomas doesn’t show up at the bar tonight for the first time since we got back to Corvallis. On one hand, I’m relieved, but on the other, I spend my whole shift wondering where he is and what he’s doing.
When I finish up late at night, I immediately head for my dorm to take a quick shower, intending to go back to Thomas’s room. He doesn’t give me the chance, though, because he shows up at my door without warning.
“Hey,” I say, standing in the doorway, observing him. His cheekbones are slightly reddened, and his eyes are tired. But he seems sober for the first time in over a week now. “Is everything okay?”
He nods, rubbing the soft bit of hair that always falls over his forehead. “They’re having a party at the frat, but I’m not in the mood. And Larry’s blasting an anime marathon in the dorm.”
“Oh, I understand.” Is that why he’s here? Because he didn’t know where else to go?
He must be able to read my mind because he steps forward, taking my chin between his thumb and index finger, and brushes my lower lip. “I wanted to see you.”
These words are enough to coax a little smile from me. It feels like I can finally breathe again after days of struggling for air.
“Little warm in here, isn’t it? What’s the heat set to?” he asks when he gets inside, peeling off his jacket.
I glance as the thermostat mounted on the wall next to me. “Seventy-seven.”
“You’re nuts.” He chuckles a little, and it feels like an eternity since I last heard him do that.
“I just run cold…you know.” I smile hesitantly at him, pulling down my shirtsleeves. He smiles back at me, quirking one corner of his mouth. I haven’t missed the gloom that still hangs in the air between us, and I realize that now is not a good time to start a conversation. “Do you want to watch TV?” I suggest instead, getting a packet of microwavable popcorn from the kitchen cupboard. “This has been waitingto get devoured since my first grocery run. Alex and I were going to have a movie night.” What I don’t tell him is that it never happened, because although Alex did his best to cheer me up, I wasn’t in any mood for company or entertainment.
“Sure, whatever you want,” he answers without enthusiasm, slumping onto the sofa with his legs spread. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his black sweatpants and types out a message.
“Okay,” I murmur, trying to ignore the odd feeling of awkwardness between us. I unfold the bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave. “So my mother called today.”
“What did she want?”
“Um, the usual stuff. She wanted to know how I was, to point out once again that I don’t call her…” I stall a little as I set the timer. “And to tell me that she’s booked a table for the four of us this Friday evening.” I don’t look at him. I don’t have the guts. And his silence only adds to my nerves. Finally, I turn uncertainly toward him. His forehead is creased into a frown.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. Then he tucks his phone away. His answer doesn’t surprise me, but I still feel a little disappointed. This wasn’t how I hoped it would go. I wanted him to go with me to the family dinner, and I wanted my mother to change her mind about him. And he promised me that he’d be there. But that was before everything went downhill.
I paste on a smile to hide my sorrow. “Don’t worry. I already told her you probably wouldn’t be able to make it.” I turn my back to him and shut my eyes, focusing on the sound of the popcorn popping, which is now filling the room. I hear him let out a sigh and approach me. I feel his chest brushing against my back and his hands resting on my shoulders.
“Look, I’m saying this for your sake… If I said or did something that—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I interrupt him, sounding colder than I’d like. “I get it.”
He leans against the kitchen cabinet, folding his arms over his chest and looking at me. “You sure?”
I nod, trying to look convincing.
But I can feel the weight of his stare on me. He knows I’m lying. He rubs his face in frustration before saying, “Eh, never mind. I’ll be there.”
I look up at him; he doesn’t seem at all happy with the decision he’s just made. “You don’t have to. I mean, it’s just dinner.”
The popping sound is subsiding. And I need to do something—anything—to get rid of the nervous energy that his presence is causing. I grab the bag out of the microwave and pull it open immediately, almost burning my fingers.
“I said I’ll be there,” he answers with an air of finality, plucking the bag from my hands. “Tell me where and when.”
I get a bowl out of the cupboard and hand it to him. “At Maple Garden, eight o’clock.”
“Maple Garden? Fancy-ass place, isn’t it?” He pours the hot popcorn into the bowl. Then he goes over the sofa and turns the TV on. I don’t answer because I don’t know what else to say; he’s right.
