Page 15 of The Best Kind of Forever
“‘Not too bad’? Aeris, that’s awesome.”
I manage to untangle the words caught on my tongue. “What do you do for work?”
His teeth lock in place, and he rubs the length of his neck. “I’m, uh…I’m a personal trainer.”
That explains the muscles.
“Look, Hayes, you don’t have to do this. I’m not asking you to talk with me. I can be…a lot…sometimes.”
Ah, and the waterworks are right on time. Despondency wades through my bloodstream, subsequently siphoning all the air out of my lungs. My chest feels tight, my breath is bated, and tears swipe at the backs of my eyes.
“I know. I want to,” Hayes counters. “And I don’t scare easily.”
You should, I say to myself.
But instead, all I offer him is a watery smile. I begin to fumble with the zipper on the back of my corset, but my poor coordination hinders me from making any progress. My arms oscillate around, and I twist aimlessly from side to side, probably looking like a fish out of water.
With a groan, I turn my back to Hayes.
“Can you, uh…can you help me?” I ask timidly, gesturing to the death trap currently cutting off all my circulation. It’s pulled so tight that my boobs are barely contained, swelling over the tops of the sewn-in bra cups.
He gulps thickly, and I catch him blushing out of the corner of my eye. His long fingers make quick work of the zipper. My top is off within the second, and I cross my arms over my exposed chest just as Hayes disappears into the bathroom.
Once I’m in a T-shirt and some sweatpants, I call out to Hayes that the coast is clear. I hear a clanking noise come from the other side of the door, and when he emerges, he’s double-fisting a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water.
“I, uh, found a glass in your medicine cabinet.” He hands the drink to me, along with a few pills.
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing them back and hoping that they work faster than advertised. The more conscious I become, the more the queasiness flowers.
“Do you have any crackers? Maybe they’ll help with the nausea.”
The acid in my gut sloshes around, and I place a hand on my stomach, as if I’m making some kind of unspoken truce with it. “Crackers probably aren’t the best idea.”
Hayes nods, leaning his shoulder against the wall.
The silence in the room is entirely too loud, but I’m too nervous to say much of anything. I’m afraid I’ll word-vomit on him. Or, you know, actually vomit on him…again.
Finally, after what seems like a millennium, my voice cracks when it tastes the air. “You should probably get going after your clothes dry. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
Disappointment flashes across his features like a broken roll of film. “Right,” he agrees, though his mouth falls into a hard line.
“Right.”
The truth is, I don’t want Hayes to leave. I don’t want to be alone. Hayes is the first person since my brother’s death who’s made life feel a little less hopeless. But as much as I wouldn’t mind falling asleep in his arms, listening to the soft patter of his heart, I’m never going to allow myself to feel that vulnerable ever again.
THE MORNING AFTER
AERIS
Sunlight peters through the slits in my blinds as warmth fills me to the tips of my toes, trickling down the length of my spine. When I muster the courage to pry my eyes open, my head feels like it’s been crushed by an industrial car compactor, and my mouth is as dry as sandpaper.
I groan, thrashing in my swelter of sheets.
Did I imagine last night? Did I hallucinate the whole thing? I guess it doesn’t matter, because I never got Hayes’ number—ifhe was a real person.
I jackknife to a sitting position, wiping the dried drool at the corner of my mouth. I reach for my phone and take in the giant eleven on my home screen.
I really don’t want to get out of bed. I want to hibernate like bears do in the winter and sleep for days. Bears don’t have to deal with feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness—at least, I don’t think they do.
