Page 76 of Smoke and Fire
I sprayed root beer in front of me, unable to help myself. She dissolved into laughter.
It felt so very, very good.
21
DAHLIA
My eyes fluttered open early the next morning.
I groaned, but rolled out of bed and forced myself away from the groggy cocoon of blankets.
Heat already radiated up from the baked ground outside and wavered into the RV. It would be hot, hot, hot today. For more reasons than just smoke and fire.
Images from yesterday still whipped through my mind. Jakob. Katrina. Bastian. Pictures from my warm life in LA with old familiar friends and my favorite taquería just down the street.
The way Bastian swept into the Frolicking Moose and took all the air out of the room.
Today, I focused on Bastian.
Jakob’s final holds over me had dissolved yesterday, and the relief that rolled through me as a result felt buoyant. Inner Me gave a little sigh of relief at the thought.
Panic shot through me when I caught sight of the clock.
8:57.
“No!” I squeaked, hopping into a pair of shorts. Of course, I was already late. No makeup, my hair in utter just-woke-up-disarray, and Bastian would be here any second now.
I grabbed one flip flop off the ground while rushing into the front to find the other one. Somewhere in a mess of clothes I’d dumped on the bed was a shirt I could wear, I just couldn’t find it.
There!
The sound of tires on the gravel outside followed.
With another cry, I lunged for the shirt. An emerald green color with light, silhouetted coconut trees against it. I yanked it on when the sound of feet approached the trailer. Of course, Bastian would be on time to the very minute he said he’d arrive. Meanwhile, I’d slept until three minutes before said time.
So much for my plan to wake up early, get ready, and present my best front.
Rapping came on the door.
“Just a sec!” I called in a failed attempt to sound calm. How could I stall long enough for a quick mascara job? Tell him to wait outside? No. Lame. Make an excuse about . . .something?
A quick check in the mirror confirmed my medusa-style hair. I paused, stared at my still-sleepy reflection. Mascara smudged the skin below my eyes. What did it matter? Thiswas unfiltered Dahlia.
I drew in a deep breath and muttered, “The hell with it.”
Seconds later, I yanked open the door with my usual bright smile.
“Come in. Forgive the mess. Just woke up.”
He paused outside, one foot halfway up a stair. After a moment of indecision, he stepped inside. Like Sione, his tall frame seemed to take up most of the space, but he didn’t appear uncomfortable. He gazed around, arms at his side. The smell of smoke drifted in with him.
No incriminating glance at my clothes.
No side comments on my hair.
Just a simple, sincere, “Nice place.”
“Thanks." I stepped back and swept an arm around. “It’s home. I did a tour of the US to see family members before settling here. Sione came with me the last leg of it. It was a blast.”
