Blindness (15 page)

Cody smiles at me, and I sense his suspicion,
but he’s too nice to say anything. And I have a strange feeling
Gabe’s on my side, so I don’t think he’ll tease me either. Within
minutes, our food is in front of us, and we’re all finally occupied
with eating.

“So, haunted house?” I ask, after I’ve sucked
down an entire pancake and all of the bacon. Cody was right—the
pancakes were a good idea.

“Yeah, so…we go every year. It’s this old
historic farmhouse; they deck it out. It’s pretty sick. And they
have one of those corn mazes. It’s a ton of fun. And you can meet
my girlfriend, Jessie. We could go tomorrow night, before you leave
for the weekend,” Gabe says, rushing me with information, and
giving me little opportunity to say no.

Cody’s eyes are back on me, and I feel them.
The waitress is at our table, giving us our bill, but his attention
this time is on me, and I feel oddly victorious. I don’t know if
it’s my win over madam-slutty-waitress—she’s not really that
slutty, but I hate her regardless—or if it’s the rush of Cody’s
last touch on my arm, but I say, “Yes,” to Gabe without
hesitation.

“Great! How about we meet you two there?
Around seven?” Gabe says, flicking his napkin at Cody to get his
attention.

“Seven works,” Cody says, looking at me for
confirmation.

“Yeah, seven. Perfect,” I say, realizing what
I’ve just done. I’ve made a date—with my boyfriend’s stepbrother.
Oh god!

Chapter 8: Catch me if I fall

Gabe and Cody both dropped me off at my car
after the diner, and by the time I got home, I had one missed call
from Trevor. He was already gone by the time I called him back,
“Out with the Sumners,” he said. In my message, I told him I had
been at tutoring and just ate dinner on campus since his parents
are never really here for a formal dinner.

Trevor didn’t call me back until the morning,
and when he did, our conversation was short and sweet—which left me
little time to spin lies. Trevor’s excited about my trip, and part
of me is, too. But not as excited as I am to go to a haunted house
with Cody. I’ve turned into a junior-high girl, and I can’t seem to
stop the onslaught of bad decisions I’m making. I’m an addict.

In full-on withdrawals, I’m standing in the
middle of my bathroom, my hair wrapped in one towel, and my body
wrapped in another. I felt like a child yesterday at the restaurant
when that waitress caught Cody’s attention, and I want to make a
statement tonight—but what that statement
is
I have no
idea.

I don’t really have a style. I’m
vanilla—plain, blank…a canvas. I know how to put on make up, but I
always seem to turn out looking like I’m ready for a graduate exam
or an interview. I sift through my closet, which is full of blazers
and blouses and tailored pants. During my internship, I work in a
drafting studio at a high-top desk most of the day—my look, the
only one I seem to have, revolves completely around this one small
fact of my life.

I’m almost sad that I’m so void of color and
identity, but I’m not even aware enough to be sad. I step out into
my room and slide open the iPad for inspiration, going to some of
the popular fashion websites. I blow past the pictures of pencil
skirts and heels—I’m going to be walking through corn, so I need to
be practical at some level. I land on the celebrity pages, and then
it hits me.

I rush to my dresser and pull out black
leggings and slide them up my legs. I drop the towels from my head
and body and walk to my closet. Flipping through the hangars almost
manically, I finally spot the gray sweater hanging sideways, half
folded, on a wooden hanger in the back. I slip it on, and follow it
up with my warm Ugg boots.

The neckline is low enough that you can
sometimes get a glimpse of the lacy black bra I wear underneath.
It’s a risk, but I feel up to the dare tonight. I dry my hair and
tip the ends with a curling iron so my golden-brown locks are soft
against the dark gray of my top. I go heavy on the eye shadow, and
keep my lips simple with a little gloss. And when I back away, I’m
almost stunned by what I see in the mirror.

I look
hot
—and I somehow pulled this
off all on my own!

I’m smirking at my reflection when I hear a
slight tapping on my bedroom door. My eyes shoot wide at the sound,
and I’m dashing about the room, tossing towels and ugly clothing
into the closet on the floor—like I’m hiding the evidence.

Cody’s back is turned when I finally open the
door. I bite my lip, nervously anticipating his reaction—hoping he
has one.

“Hey, so, do you mind if we take your car? My
truck’s—” he freezes mid sentence, his eyes roaming the full scope
of my body—literally head to toe. “Holy…”

I can’t help the smile on my face. Even
though my cheeks feel like they’re about to pop from emitting so
much heat, I love the attention. “Is this…okay?” I ask, stretching
out my leg to show off my boots. “I wasn’t really sure what to
wear. I’ve never been to anything like this.”

Cody just continues to stare, no blinking, no
breathing, only his eyes falling once again down the length of my
body. I try to mask it as best I can, but I let myself take him in
now. He’s wearing black jeans with a pair of purple DC’s. His shirt
is a dark gray thermal that he has pulled over a white T. He
actually styled his hair into a low hawk, and the closer I step to
him, the more I take in his smell—it’s a wooded scent with a hint
of orange, and I feel like I’m drunk; it’s so delicious.

I close my door and raise my eyebrows at
Cody, now trying to prompt him to speak, but also loving the fact
that I’ve stunned him speechless—suddenly my torturous preparation
for this evening feels well worth the trouble. “You were saying?” I
say.

His swallow is noticeable, and he licks his
lips slightly before he talks. He starts to laugh a little, and
looks down at his feet, rubbing his hand along his neck before
meeting my eyes again. “Yeah, not gonna lie—I was totally checking
you out just now. You…well,” he’s stammering, “you just…you look
hot, okay? There, I said it. You look hot.”

He’s sucking in his lips tightly, trying not
to show me all his cards, clearly embarrassed. Not wanting to scare
him off, I let him off the hook. “Thanks,” I say, taking my turn to
look down at my feet. I owe him one for what he’s just given me.
“You look pretty hot yourself,” I say, biting my lip when I turn
back to him.

His eyes flash with that familiar fire, and
then his grin spreads. He holds out an arm for me to take, almost
as if he’s leading me into the debutante’s ball rather than taking
me out to some old barn and a cornfield that’s probably plagued
with mice. He guides me down the stairs and is even with me,
step-for-step. His walking seems to be stronger tonight, his limp
barely noticeable.

We get to the front door, and he holds it
open for me while I walk out. The cold air blasts me in the face
instantly. Cody notices my shiver, and his arm is around me tightly
again, pulling me into his body even more.

“So, I was saying we need to take your car.
My truck’s in need of some new brakes, and I don’t want to get us
in any trouble on the country roads,” he says.

“Oh, sure. No problem,” I respond, reaching
into my purse to hand Cody my keys. He takes them in his hand and
squeezes them, like he’s surprised that I would trust him with this
so quickly. Truth is, I probably trust him more than anyone in my
life—and that’s part of the problem.

Cody runs to the door and opens it to let me
in. Once I’m inside, he dashes around the front to the driver’s
side and turns the engine over to get the heat going, but he
quickly jumps back out. “Be right back,” he says, shutting the
door.

I watch him run, almost smoothly, up the
drive to his steps. He’s back in seconds with a black leather
jacket, and as soon as he gets back in the car, he drapes it over
my lap. I pinch my brow a little, not sure what he means. Are my
legs too exposed? Is the sweater too short?

“Cold. You looked cold. I wanted to make sure
you were warm enough tonight, so I thought you could use my
jacket,” he says, shrugging it off, and looking back to the front
while he shifts the car into drive.

I look down at his jacket and start to feel
it, thinking about all of the times Cody’s worn it—how much of his
life has been lived in this jacket, before I knew him. It’s soft,
and when I tuck my hands into the sleeves to feel the warmth, it’s
comforting and smooth. I pull it up my lap to my chest, pretending
that I’m using it to warm up when all I really want to do is smell
it. Once I do, I’m flooded with memories of the night I spent in
Cody’s arms—it smells just like him, like his room, his shop, and
everything about him. I think he may have a hard time getting it
back.

The car ride to the haunted house is long and
quiet. Cody and Gabe mentioned it was on the other side of town,
but it’s actually on the outskirts of the other side of town, in
Kent. The entire trip takes about 30 minutes; most of the ride is
dark, and along a road I’ve never been on. I keep glancing at Cody,
trying to find a conversation starter, but I can’t seem to get the
nerve. The quiet isn’t helping, either, giving me time to think
about my upcoming trip to Washington, and my relationship with
Trevor.

Two months ago, I was stashing away wedding
magazines, and pining after a proposal. But suddenly I find myself
hoping like hell it doesn’t come. All I want now is time. Even if
the responsible thing to do is to stay with Trevor, to finish out
this thing that I once thought was such a fairytale—I want these
few stolen moments of
what if.
I’ve never had doubts, but
then again, I’ve never felt temptation.

I’ve never really
felt.

We pull up to the large dirt lot packed with
cars and spotlights powered by loud generators, and I’m chewing my
fingernails raw with worry. Cody turns the motor off and holds the
keys up for me. “Want me to hang onto them?” he says, a nervous
smile playing out on his face.

“Yeah. Thanks,” I say. The confidence I was
filled with when he first saw me was drained during the stressful
ride over here. Too much time to think, time to think about all I’m
risking. I’m suddenly afraid; this diversion I’m on, this journey,
is dangerous and a bad idea. I’m almost thinking of excuses to end
the evening early.

Then I feel him.

I
feel
him.

It’s amazing what his touch does. He’s at my
door and grabbing my hand, refusing to let it go once I’m standing,
and instead threading our fingers together like it’s normal,
something we’ve always done.

Like he’s mine, and I’m his.

I can’t help but notice the smile on his face
when we approach the entrance to meet up with Gabe. He’s proud, but
not like I’m some checkbox he’s accrued to meet the standards of
those he’s trying to impress. I know it isn’t fair to
think—Trevor’s never really made me feel like arm candy. Actually,
we’ve always felt like a team. But for some reason, when I’m with
Cody, it gives my relationship with Trevor new perspective, and
it’s starting to feel a lot less like
love.

As we walk up, Gabe nudges his arm into a
girl with dark purple hair and a nose ring. I can’t help but flinch
when I see her eyes zero in and scowl at my hand in Cody’s. I’m
defensive, and find myself pulling in closer to him. I pretend it’s
just the cold, but it’s really my irrational fear of judgment from
this girl I don’t even know.

“Hey, dude. What the hell, you’re like 20
minutes late,” Gabe says, pounding his fist with Cody’s other hand,
and nodding at our hands with a smirk. Cody just rolls his eyes in
response and lets go.

“Hey, you,” Gabe says, opening his arms wide
to give me a hug, “so glad you decided you were up for this. You’re
gonna love it; I promise.”

“Oooookkkayyyyy,” I say, looking around and
taking in the screams coming from all directions. I’m not really
much of a horror fan, and I’m a little nervous that I might cry in
front of them all.

“Hey, this is Jessie,” Gabe says, directing
me to Miss Purple-Hair. She’s managed to form a friendlier smile
now, but I still notice the hesitation in her eyes as we shake
hands.

“Hi, Jessie. I’m Charlie. It’s nice to meet
you,” I say, using every last socialization skill I’ve learned from
Trevor—firm shake, eye contact, follow-up question. Check. “So,
how’d you and Gabe meet?”

She seems to like my directness, and I can
feel her ice toward me melt, if only a little.

“I’ve known these dickheads since
kindergarten,” she says, punching Cody in the arm—hard.

“Oww, bitch. What the hell?” Cody says,
rubbing her target, and wincing while he shakes his arm out. I
think he’s pissed at first, but then he pulls her in to his side
for a tight squeeze.

“Yeah, we all grew up on the same block,”
Cody says, winking at Jessie before letting her go. I start to feel
jealousy creep in, but she’s back at Gabe’s side the second she
leaves Cody, and it’s clear from the way she looks at Gabe that
he’s her only interest.

We make our way to a makeshift ticket booth,
and Gabe shells out $40. Cody tries to hand him a twenty, but Gabe
punches him in the chest lightly and tells him to keep it. I love
watching them interact—they truly love each other, like family.

The guys walk ahead as we enter a set of
gates to the farm property, and I’m trailing behind with Jessie. I
can feel her urge to question me, and I know she will. I can sense
how protective she is over the two boys in front of us, so I’m less
offended than I was at first, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to give
her anything.

“So, I hear you’re dating Trevor?” she goes
right in for the kill. I have to admire her for that; she has guts,
and I wish I had a fraction of them.