by Ginger Scott
I’m embarrassed that Cody walked in on us. I’m not much for public displays of affection. I also have this heaviness in my chest—a tightness I haven’t been able to shake since the awkward family dinner where everyone but me pretended Cody was invisible. Feeling like I should explain myself, I start to talk, but Cody instantly holds up his hand to stop me.
“Really, none of my business. You two are living here…together…and I walked in on you. I was rude. I’m sorry,” he says, still unable to make eye contact with me.
“You just surprised us, that’s all,” I say, clearing the counter of my mess from the salad I was making for dinner. I take the droppings to the trash, and move to the sink to run my hands under the water just as Cody reaches for the faucet to rinse out a coffee pot. Our hands touch briefly, and we both jerk back.
“Sorry, just had to clean out this pot. I don’t think they’ve used it in ages…it’s dusty,” he says, still not looking me in the eyes.
“Go ahead,” I say, taking my apron off and rolling it up with the ties. My focus is intent on the stream of water. I watch as Cody fills the pot completely, twice, and swishes the water around before pouring it in the sink. His hands are meticulous, like a surgeon, and I’m spellbound. He leaves the water on as he turns away from me.
“All yours,” he says, before he busies himself with the packet of coffee in his hands. He’s looking through the cabinets, searching for filters, when he just stops, his shoulders slumping, and his head slung low. When I hear his breath escape in a long, defeated whisper of a moan—something in me breaks.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “No filters? I know I saw some the other day. I’m sure I can find them.”
I slide over to stand next to him, and reach up on my tiptoes to move a few of the boxes out of the way. I’m desperate to find them for him, somehow believing that I can take away whatever pain this is that’s constantly brewing behind his eyes if I can just find the damn coffee filters.
I pull the cocoa down, along with some boxes of tea, before I see the white edge of the filters, and I grab them. I turn to face Cody, and am immediately struck by his closeness—my body buzzing from the instant rush of adrenaline. He’s inches from me, and I can feel the heat from his breath radiating along my neck and cheeks. He’s taller than me, by a few inches, and his chest is wide enough to swallow me whole. Even in his torn-up T-shirt, I can see the well-formed muscles underneath. His eyes are fixed on my face—not moving, not blinking. I gulp, though I try to mask it with a small cough.
“Hey, you know what?” I force the words out despite the rapid-fire beating happening in my chest. “You should just take this.” I put my hand on the coffee maker and reach for the plug, but Cody stops me, putting his hand on mine. He bites at his bottom lip as he stares at our hands now. My eyes are wide as I’m staring at them, too.
“I can’t. It’s not mine, and I won’t take anything from them,” he says, his voice hardened and sure.
Confused, but also not wanting to offend Cody, I try to reassure him that no one would miss it. “Really, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone make coffee…besides you,” I giggle, mostly because I’m nervous, and my damn heart won’t stop speeding up. “Take it.”
“No,” he says forcefully. He sets the pot down on the counter and pushes it away. Seconds later, he’s walking out the kitchen door, slamming it shut with enough force to cause me to flinch. My eyes are stinging with tears, a sensation I’ve fought off for years. I stand there stiffly and hold my breath, trying to stop them from forming—almost willing my eyes dry. When I hear the low rumble of Cody’s truck, I let a single tear fall down my face. Seconds later, I hear Trevor’s steps coming down the nearby stairs, and I take a deep breath and tuck whatever-that-was deep inside.
I had planned on making a romantic dinner for Trevor and me, but after my encounter with Cody, I wasn’t up for cooking much. I didn’t like that every interaction I had with him left something behind—like a scratch I had to tend to and just couldn’t seem to leave alone.
If I was being truthful with myself, Cody was starring in my thoughts more often than Trevor since the night he joined us for dinner. I know it isn’t right, but I also know it’s an innocent crush. I’ve never really had a crush, a distraction that helps me miss Trevor less while he’s away. Cody is just a checkbox in life I need to get through.
But tonight, I belong to Trevor—I wasn’t allowing myself to entertain any of my distractions. I pulled out my best puppy-dog eyes and begged him to take me out, which he was more than happy to do. If he had his way, we’d be at a different bar or club every night, meeting other couples, networking and partying until dawn. Trevor is an extravert, always the life of the party. I guess that’s why he’s done so well in school, and with his apprenticeship interviews—he knew the right people, and when he didn’t, he knew where to find them so he could get them in his corner early.
I, on the other hand, am more comfortable at home, tucked away in some nook, curled up in a chair like a cat. It was probably from the years of living with Mac and spending nights at home on my own. Even when Mac and I really started to connect, we still didn’t go out much. Maybe a celebration dinner at the burger joint or a backyard party at one of his cop friend’s houses, but that was about as formal as it got.
Nothing about me was flashy—not my wardrobe, not my hair, not my makeup. I worried a little that I might not fit in if we ended up moving to Washington. I didn’t have that polished look that I imagine everyone else in a big city had. I’m presentable. I would even admit that I could be pretty. But I was forgettable—floating through my relationships with people like a ghost. Trevor was the first person to really see me. And I was learning from him just how important things like mingling could be—making an impression. And I had gotten better at it.
We decide on a cute little seafood spot by the river. It’s one of my favorite restaurants—we went there a few times when we first started dating. The place has dancing on the pier, and Trevor holds me close after dinner for a few songs, swaying me under the stars.
Being close to him, breathing him in, reminds me of why I fell in love with him in the first place. Trevor has this power to make me feel safe—my worries completely dissolve. When we first started dating, I was struggling with some of my core classes like political science and philosophy, and he just took charge, tutoring me and quizzing me on pre-test nights, sometimes until two in the morning. I always felt guilty, and would tell him to go home and get some rest, but he insisted he stay until I knew my material—all of it. And he never left me feeling vulnerable or unsure of myself, even though it meant he’d be sleeping without a pillow in a dorm-room study lounge.
He’s filling me with the same sense of security tonight, and I find myself melting from it. The wooded smell of his cologne, the feel of his hands and arms against my body, the way his biceps look wrapped tightly in his black button-down shirt—has me full of desire. I’m dizzy with lust by the time we get home, ready to rip his shirt and tie from his chest the moment he puts the car in park. But my heat quickly cools as soon as I register the shear number of vehicles surrounding us in his parents’ driveway.
“Shit!” Trevor says, as he swings the car door open, and flings it shut.
I climb out slowly, my ears registering the thumping sounds coming from the garage, and the unmistakable noise of people, probably dozens, laughing and talking inside. Trevor is nowhere to be seen, so I start to make my way closer to the garage. I’m about to climb the stairs up to the carriage house when I hear Cody’s voice. It halts me—the chill I’d managed to rid myself of tonight is back the second he speaks.
“You looking for Prince Charming?” he asks, snarky and condescending. I decide to ignore it, and instead just treat him as I always would.
“Did Trevor go upstairs?” I ask, my eyes not able to adjust to meet Cody’s in the dark. I can tell he’s sitting with his feet propped up on the hood of a car. I barely make out the bottle as he raises it to h
is lips, but the closer I get, the more alcohol I can smell. It’s whiskey, I think, though I’m not sure. Mac drank whiskey, but only on special occasions.
Cody just chuckles at me—slow and quiet, like it’s a secret he wants only me to hear. It has me stopping in my tracks and my skin covered in goosebumps. There’s something about him that has my heart racing tonight, but not the safe rush of flirtation like before. I’m anxious, and my stomach feels sick. I swallow hard, and turn to look over my shoulder, instantly wishing that I had just gone upstairs. When I look back, I see Cody in my personal space. I can see his eyes now, the familiar warmth in them gone. No blue. No sparkle. No crinkles cluing me into his mouth and smile. What are left in their place are eyes that are cold, hard, and lifeless.
I startle as he reaches forward and grabs a lock of my hair from my bare shoulder, grazing my skin, and then twisting it in his fingers and studying it, like he’s searching for the shimmer from the moonlight. I’m left shivering.
“Yeah, pretty boy went up stairs,” he says, his voice rough.
“Okay, well…I’m just going to go find him. Nice to see you,” I say, backing away so my hair falls from his fingers. He bites his tongue lightly with his teeth, almost like he’s struggling with something, and then his eyes flicker to mine, and his lips curl into a faint, unnerving smile.
“Trevor pays for all your shit, huh?” he asks. I suck in a breath at his bold statement. I’m confused, and I know I should also be offended, but something about his face is keeping my feet firm to the ground. Like I’m challenging him, but giving him the benefit of the doubt all at once.
“What do you mean? What shit?” I ask, folding my arms in front of me, partly for protection, and partly to hold in the anger that I can feel simmering in my belly.
“I mean like school and shit. This house, where you stay? He’s like…your ticket, isn’t he?” Cody says, bitterness and disgust just oozing from his posture, his face, his words—his everything. “I mean, that’s why you’re with him, right? He gets to take you to dinners and clubs, like arm candy, and you get a place to stay and your tuition covered.”
Cody starts to laugh to himself a little, and he stumbles on his feet. He wipes his sleeve along his mouth from his last drink. I’m digesting his words, my mind catching up to them, and beginning to understand what he’s insinuating, when he leaves no more doubt.
“So, what would this buy me?” he asks, handing me a crumpled up twenty dollar bill, and moving in closely, dipping his head down low so he can graze his nose along the nape of my neck, his lips stopping against my ear. I know I should back away, but I’m paralyzed by his touch—both afraid and aroused, the contradiction playing out inside my heart almost breaking it in half. “Does that get me a kiss?”
The sound of his insult reverberates throughout the empty garage and carries out into the night air. I see it all in slow motion, the cold fog escaping his lips as he forms that last word and punctuates it, digging into my heart like a needle. His face is twisted and hateful, his eyes not even seeing me for me anymore.
I slap him so hard the bottle falls from his hands and breaks into pieces on the garage floor. “Go fuck yourself!” I say, turning to the stairs to go find Trevor. I don’t run, because I’m not afraid. I haven’t been truly afraid of anything since the day Mac died. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like I can hear my father’s voice whispering to me, telling me I should hit the asshole again. I look back at him one last time before I round the corner, and he’s holding his mouth in his hand, his head still tilted sideways from my impact, but his eyes firmly on me—like daggers.
I find Trevor talking to a few women right inside the door. When he sees me, he reaches for my hand, and I notice two of the girls, who are barely dressed and are covered in piercings and tattoos, laugh and roll their eyes. Trevor just pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it. “These are some of Cody’s friends. I was just explaining to them that this really isn’t Cody’s house, and my dad’s not really keen on having big parties. It pisses off the neighbors,” Trevor says, his face stern, like a schoolteacher giving a lecture. “Ladies? If you could let your friends know, and maybe wrap this thing up a little early, I’d be really grateful.”
Trevor winks at them, while he’s talking, and they giggle, like most girls do when he’s giving them his sales pitch. I know it will work, though, and it does as the driveway is empty within a half an hour.
I was relieved that Trevor fell asleep quickly after we finally settled in for the night. For some reason, Cody’s party had him furious. I understood being upset about Cody’s constant disrespect for his father, but I didn’t think throwing a party at an otherwise empty house was that big of a deal. I played along, though, nodding and agreeing through his 20 minutes of ranting, hating Cody for my own reasons. It was an easier way to end the night. The romance that had been brewing earlier was extinguished the second Cody tried to buy me for twenty bucks.
But now, laying here next to Trevor—hearing nothing but his faint breathing and the crickets outside—I’m left replaying my confrontation with Cody over and over. Each time I walk through the scene, I’m stronger, stopping him before he can get to me. The longer I think about it, the angrier I get, and finally I’m on my feet, pacing in front of the window.
I see the light on in the garage, the rest of the carriage house dark, and the mess left behind strewn along the front yard and driveway. I reach for my jeans and slip them on along with one of Trevor’s sweaters I find lying on the floor. I grab the crumpled up twenty from my desk, along with a Sharpie, and slip quietly out our door.
I’m almost to the open front of the garage when I hear the rattling of tools and see a bolt roll along the floor. My face goes flush, and I’m suddenly sweating, the bravery I was filled with moments ago running away to hide. I think I can hold my breath, quietly step backward out of the light, and round the corner of the garage, when I come face-to-face with a stranger. I scream the second I see him, and he leaps against the car parked in the garage, clutching his chest.
“What the fuck?” his eyes are wide, and he’s panting. “Shit! You scared me!”
I’m still standing there speechless, staring at a tall man with a shaved head and a bare chest covered in tattoos. I look down and notice his shirt is tucked in and hanging from the waistband of his jeans. His black work boots are scuffed with oil stains, and his jeans are torn at the knees and just as covered in oil and dirt. I shake my head side-to-side as I notice his hands moving to his shirt, and he begins wiping them clean. Finally, he extends his hand, and out of habit I reach for it, my mouth still open and in shock.
“I’m Gabe. I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you. You lookin’ for Cody?” he’s staring at me, his brow low, like he’s trying to figure me out. My heart is still thumping against my ribs, making it hard to hear, and even harder to focus. I just nod slowly in answer to Gabe’s question.
“He’s gone. Asshat is in no condition to drive, but he didn’t go far. He’s just up at the garage,” Gabe says. His answer seems to jolt me a little, like a reset button, and I finally take in a breath. I start to look around—trying to understand what Gabe means about the garage. Isn’t this the garage? Jesus, how many garages do the Appleton’s have? Gabe must sense my confusion, because he starts to laugh.
“Jake’s garage…his shop. You been there?” he asks, bending down to pick up the wrench and bolt he’d been coming for when he scared me. I just nod no in response.
“Ah, well, it ain’t hard to find. It’s just down the road about six or seven miles, right by the diner,” Gabe says. I smile, shoving my hands in my pockets, and turn to leave, but Gabe stops me. “I’d leave him be tonight, though. Just…if you want my opinion.”
I turn back to face him and shrug. “Why’s that?” I say, my throat dry, and my voice soft and shy.
Gabe walks back to a large tool chest behind the car. I notice the rust and dents along its side and trace it with my hand. It’s an old ca
r, maybe 1970s, but I can tell with a little love it could be something. Gabe notices my attention to it and comes over to stand next to me, rubbing his hand along the same rough paint. “She’s a beauty…Codes should have her in shape in about a month. You’ll have to come back and see her then,” he says.
“Is it his?” I ask, my eyes now roaming to the interior and the dashboard, both just as beat up as the outside.
Gabe starts to laugh and then tosses his now soiled shirt in a pile on the garage floor. “Hell no. Codes can’t afford something like this. It’s a job. He’s fixing it up for some guy in Cleveland,” he says, leaning his back against the driver’s side and pulling out a cigarette. He looks up at me and holds it out, offering, but I just shake my head and scrunch my face. “Not a smoker, huh?”
“No,” I say.
“Mind?” he asks before he lights the end of his cigarette. I just shake my head no. I don’t really like the smell of smoke, but I feel like the intruder here, so I just accept it.
Gabe takes a long drag and holds the smoke in his mouth, some of it spilling out his nose, before he lets it puff out above his head. He turns to face me and smiles big. “I don’t think I caught your name,” he says.
“I’m Charlotte,” I say, pulling the sleeves of Trevor’s sweater lower so they cover my cold hands. When I look back up, I notice Gabe’s smile is growing, and he’s starting to laugh and shake his head side to side.
“What’s funny?” I ask, mentally noting the $20 still in my pocket, and starting to feel like maybe Gabe was in the garage the whole time. The longer it takes him to answer, the more upset I become, and I’m about to leave when he finally explains.
“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…I’ve heard about you, you know?” he says with raised eyebrows, surprising me. My eyes widen when I realize Cody must have talked about me, and it has my stomach flipping—which in turn has me feeling even angrier, since I’m supposed to hate Cody.
