Page 28 of When Glitter Meets Gold

I pat my cheeks, wondering if they’re stained scarlet from the whole seeing him naked thing.

“As decent as I can be in a stranger’s clothes,” I say, shrugging in his borrowed sweater that cuts off at my upper thigh. As he turns around, I flap the arms. “Can I pull it off?”

I watch him visibly stiffen. The same way he did when I moved closer to him as the wind blew around the tent. He pushes his hands through his hair. “Uh, yeah.” He blinks at the ground, then back at me. “Yeah, you pull it off.” He turns away again, but not before I catch the hint of a smirk tug at his mouth.

I contemplate how dumb I must look in his huge sweater while nestling into the blankets like a roosting ground bird.

Blankets.In place of the single layer that was there before the moose incident, there now exists two thicker blankets and a small pillow. I glance over at Jack’s sleeping bag, noting his pillow isn’t there anymore.

“You gave me your pillow? When did you do this?” My eyes rake over his khaki hoodie and jersey shorts, neither looking like enough to keep him warm through the night.

“When you were playing chicken with a moose.” He smirks for a second before pouring water from a flask into its lid and handing it to me. “You looked cold earlier.”

He’d noticed after all.

“I handled that poorly, didn’t I?” I gulp the water in one chug, suddenly aware of how dehydrated I am. “I really didn’t mean to make so much noise. Sorry.”

He shrugs. “You handled it like anyone who’s never left the city would.” He eyes me, waiting for me to tell him I leave the city all the time. I can’t, which is why I catch him smirking again. Then his face is serious. “You apologized back there too. I guess I don’t get why.”

I bite my lip. My chest starts to feel tight. “I’ve been screaming and yelling this whole time. I’m just letting you know that I’m aware and it’s not because I’m looking for attention. I’m just adjusting to being out here.”

Jack surveys me. His head angling. “You don’t need to apologize for being afraid.” He scratches his head. “Or for makingnoise. I was just kidding earlier when I told you to go five minutes without screaming. There was a lot going on with the crash, and then figuring out who you were.”

I’m nodding, comically so. The gesture is nothing apart from a distraction from something I’m fighting to keep from surfacing. I try to say something like, “Yeah, I get that.”Maybe I say it, maybe I don’t.

And then I’m zoning out. Jack’s face blurring into shapes without edges, my surroundings disappearing into haze. Because here it comes, the heaviness, the weight over my heart.

It’s happening again. My hand rises to my chest as though there’s a way to free the coils that wrap around my ribs. That all-consuming constricting feeling is back.

The memories pour in.

It’s last year. Mark got a new job. Joined a team of other engineers who’d taken him under their wing. He fit in, was sure to get promoted quickly. I was proud of him.

One of the guys invited us to his wedding. Everyone from the company is there, which makes Mark nervous. He won’t stop adjusting his cufflinks, straightening his tie, popping breath mints.

It’s an outdoor wedding. Connecticut in September, a perfect day with a warm breeze and no clouds. Wine flows and the speeches are polished and heartfelt. The day is perfect, but Mark and I aren’t. The man who’d once shown me off like a million-dollar prize, and made sure everyone knew my name, is now leaving my side at any opportunity. I don’t know half the people he speaks to, and they don’t know me.

I mostly mingle with strangers. Sway alone beneath the marquee, keep to the edge of the dancefloor, hide behind tight smiles and long sips of champagne.

A man asks me if I want to dance. I politely decline.

“What’d he want?” Mark asks, appearing out of nowhere, eyes narrowed.

“He said I should be dancing.” I smile hopefully at him. “I told him I already have a dance partner.”

Mark doesn’t react. “You’re standing next to the dancefloor. It looks like you’re begging for attention.”

I get choked up, but I hold back the tears. “That’s not what I’m doing. You won’t spend time with me, I don’t know where else to go other than stand here watching others have fun.”

His face hardens. “I’m getting to know my new colleagues. You know how important this is to me.” Then he lowers his voice again. “At least slow down with the drinking. You get loud when you’ve had too much.” He sighs. I don’t tell him it’s only my first glass. I just nod, smile and set the glass down. It makes him happy.

The day turns into night. Twinkle lights hang from the canopy. Fire sconces light the decking. Mark is a few feet away, joking and talking football with three other guys. Boy talk. I sit ata round table. Confetti and discarded champagne flutes litter the ivory tablecloth. None of them mine. I tuck into a piece of red velvet cake. Then throw my fork down when I see some kind of beetle looking thing crawl onto the plate.

Mark hears the clatter. Looks over. Shoots me a look. I smile, motion for him to come join me.

Boy talk must have been pretty intense because he doesn’t tear himself away. I shrug, decide to use a napkin to flick the bug off my plate and over the side of the decking. It sprouts wings, comes right at my face. I cry out then hear a crash at my feet. I’d swiped the plate clean off the table. It lies in pieces on the decking.

“I hate those things.” An older woman next to me says. “They come out at night and get in your hair, crawl up your legs.”

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