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My body is still reacting to the imprint of her fingers when they were woven through mine.
“You’re quiet,” she remarks as we head south toward…somewhere.
“I’m feeling rather…warm,” I say.
That’s a lie. I’ve been cold everywhere since I let go of her.
Some strange part of me grieves her absence even though she’s right beside me.
Hailey makes me laugh. She has a smile that makes my heart ache. Her eyes reveal so much emotion about her that it provokes me to uncover more and more about her.
On the drive to and from the festival, we talked about school. We had starkly different experiences. She attended a large public high school through grade twelve, and I had private tutors until I went to university to earn multiple degrees.
I don’t care that Hailey never went to university. But I feel bad not telling her why I had tutors and nannies my whole life.
I conclude that it’s not fair that I haven’t revealed to her who I truly am, and I should not let this day end until I do.
We spend the afternoon driving across the state to a place called the New River Gorge, which she says is a must-see.
The wild mountains and twisting river remind me so much of home; I could see myself here.
And yet I’m getting so far ahead of myself; I have to rein it back in.
There’s no reining in my emotions when it comes to Hailey.
When evening comes, I can’t bear the thought of returning to the hotel without telling her the truth.
“Hailey.”
“Yes, Ben?”
Hearing her say my fake name makes me feel guilty, which must be rectified immediately.
“Would you dine with me tonight?” I’ll tell her everything over dinner.
She does a double take. “Who, me? Like this?” She looks down at her clothes.
“Yes, what’s wrong with your clothes?” Her tank top and cut-off denims are perfectly alluring, so I see no problem.
“Aside from this outfit being ripe as all get out after thirteen hours? I don’t know; maybe the fact that you’re staying at the fanciest hotel within three states, and I’m wearing Daisy Dukes.”
I don’t know who Daisy Duke is and do not care to find out.
“You look lovely,” I say softly.
She flushes, which pleases me. “Maybe, but they won’t let me in the door of that place,” she huffs.
“They will if I say so.”
Hailey slides her gaze over to me. “And what makes you so special?”
This is not the time or place for my confession. I have it all planned out. I plan on telling her at dinner when we’re both relaxed with full bellies…preferably after at least one glass of wine.
I try to cover my tracks with a lot of spluttering. “Because…because I’m a guest at the Thistle Rock,” I say.
“A very important guest?” Hailey asks.
The following silence is thick with unspoken answers to that question.
