Page 31 of Collision

“Good. That’s good.”

“Josh?” I chew on my lower lip as I listen to him speak to someone off the line.

He answers after a beat.

“Yes, Mikaela?”

“Why are you calling me at two in the morning?”

I can hear the noise of traffic; of sirens and taxi cabs.

“I want to take you out again. Try it once more.”

I take a deep breath and remind myself to smile. As I answer, I pick at the rip of my overalls.

“Friday?” My voice is light and gentle, but my stomach is doing somersaults. “But maybe a different restaurant?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Okay.”

I can hear the way he’s grinning as the street noise dies down into a dull hum behind him. “I’ll speak to you before then.”

“Mhmm.”

I push off of the counter as I hang up, spinning my phone in my hands, and slowly, make my way past the sleeping men, towards my new dresser.

With my mind racing to catch up with the idea of another date, I grab an oversized jersey from the bottom drawer and glance back quickly before unclipping the straps of my overalls, the denim stiff and uncomfortable from a day of heavy lifting and a night on the couch. I pull off the tiny grey bra and throw it towards the hamper, covering myself with my arm despite the fact neither of the boys have woken up, before pulling the top over my head. Wrapping myself in the long sleeves and shimmying out of the denim brings a comfort I didn’t realise I need and I take a deep breath.

I’m here; in my new home, with my brother, and I have a date. Granted, when I think for too long about that last point my heart rate spikes and a cold sweat starts to cling to the back of my neck, but it’s a start.

Maybe things are finally looking up.

Ben

I roll to my side and grunt as my leg knocks into the coffee table, my back aching from laying across the floor for too long, and I glance around the tiny apartment. In the darkness, my head is cloudy, a steady throb over my right eye reminding me why I cut down on drinking two years ago. The headaches aren’t worth it.

Drawing in a deep breath, I try to focus on anything other than the dull throb brewing behind my eye.

A soft giggle draws my eyes to the kitchen and my heart picks up its pace. She’s whispering as she perches on the counter, picking at the hole on her knee and smiling to herself, and I tuck my hand under my cheek as I watch her in the soft glow of the TV.

She’s nothing more than a silhouette in this light, but I can see the way her head tilts to the right and she twists a thread between her fingers. I can see the way she curls into herself, making herself smaller as she tries not to wake us. I can see that she’s nervous.

When she laughs, I feel a bitter pang in my chest and I close my eyes again. But it’s no use. Even behind my eyes, I can trace the tiny dimple above the left corner of her lip when she laughs, and the way she tucks the flyaways of her hair behind her ear as she leans with her phone between her ear and shoulder. I can picture the way she presses her fingers into her lips as she listens and tries to hold back her smile. I know the exact shade of forest green that mingles with the jade of her eyes. It dawns on me that in the short time she’s been back in my life, I’ve been memorising her again.

Jamie’s right: this is exactly like ten years ago and I need to get a grip.

“Friday?” She sounds nervous, unsure of herself, and I could laugh.Does she really think that whoever is on the end of the line will say no to a date with her?“But maybe a different restaurant?”

And there’s the feeling that I’m becoming far too accustomed to when it comes to Mik; a clenched jaw and a stiff neck, the roll of nauseating disappointment.

Of course it’s Josh.

When she hangs up she tiptoes past me and I still. My heart hammers as I try to keep my breathing deep and even. If she knows I’m awake she might ask me to leave and all I know right now is that I don’t want that. I’d shown up because I wanted to help. I wanted to see her and not be weird and tense, and I didn’t want to spend another night alone when all I can think about is her. And now I want to stay. I want to stay because even when she’s irritated by me she smiles, and I have always liked watching her smile.

I open my eyes when she’s passed me and my breathing hitches.

Mikaela stands with her back to me as she slips out of her overalls and peels off the tiny scrap of fabric from underneath. I know I should say something, or close my eyes, or just do anything other than watch as she slips into a giant top, the smooth silk of her back to me, but I don’t do anything.

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