Page 111 of Colliding with Ten

It was a careful extraction, a slow slide out from under his arm, by lifting his wrist. He stirred. I froze, one leg already off the mattress, holding my breath while he mumbled what sounded like “third and seven.” Then he rolled onto his stomach, freeing me.

I breathed. Sitting on the bed, barefoot on the rug, I let my eyes adjust. His T-shirt was crumpled nearby. I pulled it on since my blouse was across the room and I wasn’t about to navigate his furniture naked in the dark. It smelled like him, warm and woodsy, maybe sandalwood and mint. I inhaled deeply.

I found my jeans by the dresser. One shoe waited by the door. The other hid under the nightstand, so I got on my hands and knees to fish for it. I bumped the nightstand, rattling the glass of water he’d left for me. I caught it before it tipped.

In the bathroom, I dressed with the door almost shut, using my phone light to see. After splashing water on my face, I twisted my curls into a bun and stared at my reflection. My lips were swollen. A faint mark near my collarbone showed where his mouth had been. Seeing it sent butterflies through me, followed by the urge to go back in there and start again from the top. I looked away.

The hallway was long and dark. I moved on tiptoes, shoes in hand, making it past the kitchen without incident. I scooped my bag off the counter and reached for the front door, but the strap caught on the edge of a barstool. The stool scraped against the tile.

I stood still, heart hammering, staring up toward his bedroom. I waited five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Nothing. I exhaled, untangled the strap, and slipped into the cool night air.

The rideshare pulled up. I hop-hopped with one shoe on, the other halfway, and fell into the backseat as the car moved. Lennox’s house shrank in the rearview mirror until the road curved and it disappeared behind the trees. A hollow ache filled my chest.

The driver was talkative, gibber-gabbering from the moment I got in. Five in the morning, and this man wanted to talk about the weather and traffic. I gave one-word answers and kept looking out the window.

“Vacation or business?” he asked, glancing in the rearview.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. What was this? What category could you put this under? I had just slept with a man I couldn’t be with, in a house in the hills, after meeting his parents, laughing until my ribs hurt and watching him fall asleep mid-sentence, arguing about a Bruce Willis movie.

“Visiting a friend,” I said.

He nodded, satisfied, and moved on to telling me about his daughter’s soccer tournament.

In the car, the night came back in flashes before I could stop them. The tension had left his shoulders when I told him I didn’t carry the Huntington’s gene, as relieved as AJ had been. I couldn’t believe Lennox had looked it up, that he cared. This was who he was. He’d kissed me everywhere until I laughed. My chest twisted. Had I just made a mistake?

Then I thought about his mother cupping my face. The sound he made when he let go in bed. He’d gathered me up afterward and held me like he’d been afraid of losing me before he even had me. Then, he’d fallen asleep in a bed that smelled like both of us, and I still left without saying goodbye. What was wrong with me? I closed my eyes.

Staying in that house, letting him become the person I couldn’t walk away from, would rearrange my life. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. I was just starting to figure out who I was without my father’s voice in my head and without the safety net of being AJ Callahan’s little sister. I didn’t want to replace centering one man’s needs with another. But why didn’t I just tell him that?

Would he understand, with his life and career already established? My mother met my father at a similar time in life. She never had a career, only helped my father with his, and when she got sick, her life was dependent on him. Our teams finding out was one problem, but if we got together, who would be expected to bend? It would be me flying to California and making decisions based on where he needed to be. No, I didn’t want that. I had to decide my life before someone else became important enough to influence it.

There was also AJ, who loved me in a way that was stubborn, protective, and sometimes infuriating, but was also always, always my best friend. My stomach tensed thinking about him. I was keeping a secret from him now, a real one with teeth. I could already see his face, the stillness of his body when he heard news he didn’t like. His silence was louder than any argument. I could fight noise, but not his silence. It was all too much. Leaving in the dark was easier.

The airport appeared through the windshield. I thanked the driver, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked through the sliding doors into the terminal full of early travelers. I found my gate, sat, and pulled out my phone.

Lennox’s name was near the top of my messages. My thumb clicked on it as I thought about what to say. Then I began typing.

Thank you for having me. Your parents are lovely.

It was too formal. I sounded like I was writing a thank-you note. Delete.

Hey. Got to the airport safely. Last night was amazing.

“Amazing.” Ugh. Delete.

Last night meant⁠—

I stared at those three words and deleted them so fast my thumb nearly cracked the screen.

Didn’t want to wake you. You looked peaceful.

That was a girlfriend text. I was not his girlfriend. Delete.

Where you can find your shirt: on your bedroom floor. Where you can find your dignity: also on your bedroom floor.

I laughed at that. I had folded his shirt and snuck it into my bag. Yes, I was a shirt thief, so that wasn’t accurate. Delete.

I stared at the blank message box. Then I typed the truest thing I could manage without falling apart: I almost stayed.