Page 36 of Love is an Open Book
“This isn’t real,” I say as much to myself as her. Besides, any enclosed space sucks. I’m not used to holding back with her, but this particular fear has always seemed juvenile. I don’t have an explanation for it, and I thought I’d grow out of it.
“Okay, then let’s start cracking codes.”
“I don’t see any.” The passageway has opened up into a room and stalactites—or maybe stalagmites—jut up from the floor and drip from the ceiling.
Mia bends and crawls underneath an overhang. “There’s something in here.”
I squat down to see and she pushes a battered container out of the spot.
“Are we supposed to be moving stuff around?”
“How else will we open it?” She’s already flipping it over, looking for clues. “Can you check the other side of the room to see if there’s anything else we can use?”
“Like an emergency exit?” I aim for a jokey tone but it comes out tense.
Hand on the case, she scowls up at me. “We’re supposed to be working together to solve this.”
“Sorry, I did want to do this with you.” I can either keep my pride or tell her the truth so she doesn’t think I’m a total jerk. “Being trapped in here is just stressing me the hell out.”
“Seriously?”
I kneel down on the uneven floor. “I’m pretty claustrophobic.”
“Since when?”
“Since always, I guess. But that visit to the cave was the first time I remember the fear pressing in. I knew we were fine, but my brain wouldn’t accept it.” Even now, I’m fighting off the choked sensation of not having enough air. “That’s why I avoid elevators whenever I can.”
“I always thought you were showing off your fitness.”
I manage a laugh. “I don’t even go to the gym.”
“Yeah, but you’re always hauling around those big bags of dirt and stuff. You’ve got the muscles to show for it.” She frowns.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“Inconvenient.” Her voice is low, hoarse. Like she’s thirsty all of a sudden. “Don’t act like you don’t realize the impression you have on women.”
Women? Yes. Mia in particular? No. But maybe it hasn’t been as easy for her to keep her distance as I thought. I’ve caught her looking sometimes. A quick dart of her eyes from under lowered lashes when we’re at the lake. Things like that. But just now the sweep of her eyes didn’t feel like an objective observer.
Before I can process what that might mean, she says, “I wish you would’ve told me.” For a numb second, I assume she’s talking about my feelings for her.
“What would you have said?” I wait, breathless.
“I already felt bad about roping you into these trope tests, and here you are, stuck in here for my sake.”
Reality sends me back to my senses. She’s talking about my fear, not my clueless heart. “I didn’t tell you because it’s not the biggest deal. Not like I have some childhood wound to blame it on. I just don’t like small spaces.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Your fears don’t need a deep-rooted issue to be valid.” That’s the thing about Mia. She knows me and accepts me without making me feel the need to justify things. When I talk to my dad or Scott, I feel like I need to prepare a case beforehand. “You can tell me anything,” she says.
That reminds me there is something I haven’t brought up, and telling her will be better than blurting out how much I want to be with her. “My dad’s retiring.” Her fingers go still on the padlock. “Following Scott and Amber to Colorado.”
Her head whips around. “When did he tell you?”
Shielding my face from the light, I say, “He didn’t. Scott did.”
She clicks off her headlamp, face slipping into shadow. “Did you call him?”
I shake my head, the helmet rattling, and I unsnap the chin strap, setting it by my knee where it casts a glow on the stalagmites. “Not yet.” Part of me is upset he didn’t tell me himself, but I think it’s his way of not pressuring me. “Scott thinks I should take over for him.”
