Page 22 of I Hear You

The grin that lit up his face is still there. That singular dimple is still strikingly on display.

“Are you coming or going to class?” he asks, nodding at the books I have clenched against my chest with both arms.

“Going.”

“Oh, well, don’t let me keep you,” he says, as he moves to the side and makes a show of clearing my path.

“It’s okay, we’re not doing anything important today.”

Lie. We are indeed doing very important things, just like we do every week in this class. Right now though, I would happily spend more time later making up for missing the class because that dimple and that smirk on his face are so close. Henry is so close I can smell the shampoo he uses–a fresh scent that reminds me of lazy afternoons spent lying on the sand at my favorite beach.

“Well–in that case–if you’re up for skipping, I’ve got the rest of the day off. Would you like to come somewhere with me?”

“Where?” I ask, attempting to sound vaguely interested when in reality I’m about to explode with nervous energy.

“It’s a surprise. But it’s not far and I can have you back here in a few hours, promise,” he says, holding up one hand and laying the other across his chest.

“Okay,” I say, without even giving it much thought.

I follow him out to his truck and he once again opens the door for me, just as he did on that first day I arrived in Easton. I give him an appreciative smile and jump in. He closes the door behind me and jogs around the front to get in on his side.

“So now will you tell me where you’re taking me, or are you planning on taking me into the woods to murder me?” I joke.

Henry’s eyes go wide and he looks panicked.

“Henry, I’m joking. I trust you.”

I realize I do–I trust him. In truth, I hardly know him, but the familiarity I feel every time I’m around him keeps me coming back. Making me want to get to know him more.

He lets out an awkward laugh. “You’ll just have to see when we get there.”

Is he nervous?

We drive for only a few minutes before he turns down a small and winding two lane road. There are large trees on either side of us, creating a canopy of shade. I roll down my window and breathe in the scent of pine.

It reminds me of camping in the mountains during the fall with my dad. Back before my mom was an addict, back when my dad was still alive. We would pitch a tent and roast marshmallows for smores and spend all day hiking or playing in the water of the creek. Those were simpler times, happier times.

The daydream fades when I realize we’ve stopped moving. We’re parked in a small dirt turn off, nothing notable in sight.

“Oh my gosh, you are taking me into the woods to murder me.”

“Only if you misbehave,” he says with a flirtatious smile.

My stomach is instantly on fire with butterflies.

Henry laughs and unbuckles his seatbelt, climbing out of the truck. Once I’ve composed myself and am certain I will not have an orgasm just from that devilish smile alone–I follow his lead and get out of the truck.

We walk down a trail that isn’t quite visible unless you know what you’re looking for. It isn’t a hard path to follow, but I’m grateful I’m wearing my tennis shoes today and not sandals. When we come out of the path blocked by tall trees and the blue sky is visible again, we’re standing in a field of tall grass. Trees surround the field on every side, hiding this little clearing, sheltering it.

Henry drops and sits in the grass, leaning back on his arms, his legs outstretched in front of him. I do the same.

“Can I tell you something?” Henry says.

“Of course.”

“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he says, looking up at the sky as he talks.

There’s more he wants to say, I can sense it. So I stay quiet. Patiently waiting as he gathers his thoughts.

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