Page 4 of I Hear You

I’m practically shouting at him with excitement and a bit of anger at whomever this Jesse character is who stole my bag.

He lets out a small chuckle. In response to my anger, my excitement, or my hysterics, I’m not quite sure which. His laugh is deep, throaty, and incredibly sexy.

“Come with me,” he says.

The stranger moves toward the main greyhound bus area I came from. I jump up and follow behind him eagerly, not caring I’m a hot sweaty mess–no, acryinghot sweaty mess. I find myself staring at his ass. His jeans are just tight enough to show the curves of it. Moving my gaze up, I take in his sculpted shoulders and toned arms that completely fill his shirt sleeves. There’s a hint of a tattoo peeking out at the bottom of his rolled-up shirt sleeve on his left bicep. The tall, handsome stranger leads me back toward the ticket booth and starts talking to the guy behind the window.

“Hey Jesse, I found the owner of that luggage you grabbed from out front.”

The ticket taker, a guy who also looks about my age with short curly brown hair and intensely broad shoulders, responds, but I can’t hear what he says. He disappears only to reappear seconds later through a side door, pulling my beat-up suitcase behind him. This Jesse guy doesn’t just have broad shoulders, he's huge all over. He’s well over six feet tall and must be more than twice my weight, but he still looks very fit somehow. If I had to guess, he’s an athlete of some sort, maybe a wrestler or football player. He’s nowhere near as handsome as the guy who brought me over here, but he’s cute. His face has a boyish quality in contrast to his very manly body.

I squeal in delight at seeing my possessions again.

“Oh, Thank God! You, Jesse, are my new hero,” I say.

“Awe don’t thank me. I just held it back here for you. Henry was the true hero finding you.”

Jesse hands off my suitcase and gives Henry a fist bump–then disappears behind the door again, into his booth. I grip my luggage firmly and bring it extra close to my body. I am not letting it out of my sight again.

“Thank you, Henry, was it?” I ask, turning to the handsome stranger. Who, I guess, isn’t quite a stranger anymore now that I know his name.

“Yeah, that’s me… and you are…”

Henry smiles and sticks out his hand. I put my hand into his outstretched one. His hand is warm and envelops mine completely. My whole body responds to his touch. It’s almost as if my skin has been waiting for this specific person’s skin to make contact with it. I know my cheeks are red, and I can’t blame the sun. After too long, I pull myself together to respond to him.

“Madison. Thank you again, so much! I don’t know what I would do if this suitcase was gone forever.”

He pulls his hand away like I’ve burned him and now I’m self-conscious my hands are sweaty, or I held his for too long. Great, now he thinks I’m a freak.

“Yeah, I’m sure having to buy all new clothes for vacation would suck,” he says, not quite looking me in the eye.

“Oh, I’m not on vacation. I’m moving here. This is basically everything I own,” I respond, giving my suitcase a small spin. “I start classes at Pinehurst next week.”

The end of my last sentence is hurried because I’m worried I’m sharing too much information, too quickly, with someone I don’t even know. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like he’s suddenly looking at me differently.

Henry clears his throat and runs one hand across his chiseled jaw, which has a healthy five o'clock shadow. A desire to know what that stubble would feel like against the delicate skin of my inner thighs comes out of nowhere. Whoa… where did these thoughts come from? I never lust after guys like this, especially not guys I just met. It must be the heat. I clear my throat and wipe sweat from the back of my neck. It feels like it just got five degrees hotter, and I didn’t think it was possible.

Henry pushes his hands in his front pockets, making his toned arms look even more muscular, and breaks the silence.

“Oh cool. I go there too. Umm, maybe I’ll see you around campus.”

Okay, am I imagining things or is he disappointed I’m not just a tourist? Or did he notice me practically drooling over him and has a girlfriend lurking around somewhere? It seems like he’s trying to end this conversation and get away from me.

“Yeah, maybe. Well, thanks again so much for helping me track down my suitcase.”

I give him a small wave and start heading toward my spot on the rock wall to wait for the bus. The conversation and interaction got awkward, so I made my exit quickly. Glancing at my phone, I see I still have forty minutes left until the bus arrives, even after the excitement. I try to get as comfortable as possible in the heat. I pop my headphones back on and turn up my music, trying to calm my racing heart.

Chapter two

Henderson

Madison!Madison?Whydidthe gorgeous girl with golden eyes and beautiful brown hair have to be named Madison? She’s not my Madison, my Mads, she couldn’t be. Why, when I’ve been trying hard not to think about everything I’ve fucked up in the past year, does the mysterious, beautiful stranger have to be named Madison?

I’ve been good. I’ve been going to work and football practice, getting ready for classes. I haven’t emailed her in months, so I’ve only thought about her half the time I used to. But now–now my thoughts are consumed by her. Rather than creepily standing here and continuing to watch her walk away, I turn around and head for the ticket booth.

Jesse is sitting behind the plexiglass window feverishly typing away on his phone with a concerned look on his face. I tap my knuckles on the window to get his attention.

"What's up?" he says, not looking up.

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