Page 95 of The Rebound
“Gross. No. I’m not dumping my clothes in a public restroom. This is Calvin Klein.” I start unbuttoning and he turns quickly back to the front.
“Jesus, Abby.”
“You’ve seen me in my underwear before.”
“That’s not the same and you know it.”
“You can look if you want to, Luke. I don’t care.”
“I don’t want to look. You’re naked.”
I toss my blouse at the side of his head and he grabs it, throwing it back at me as I slip my skirt down my legs with a smirk. I’m not even naked under there, I’m wearing tights for God’s sake.
“You saw me in less than this at the beach,” I remind him but he doesn’t respond. He might as well be a statue in the front seat, he’s so still. But I can see the faint blush of pink at the back of his neck, spreading to his ears.
I meant what I said. I didn’t intend for this to be a striptease. And honestly, there’s nothing sexy about it. The car is small and it’s a struggle to fit into the clothes. I blow a curl from my face as I finally get the dress on, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. He immediately looks away and I climb back to the front.
“Enjoy the show?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond, waiting for me to put my seat belt on before he starts driving again.
“Look,” he says, sounding significantly calmer. “About what I said before. About Beth—”
“The cow stopped that conversation.”
“Abby—”
“I mean it,” I say. “Not now. Please. I have too much to think about.”
“Fine. But we’re not done,” he warns. “You’ve got your interview but then we’re going to talk.” His eyes flick between me and the road as I reach down to get my purse. “What are you doing?”
I take out my makeup bag. “What does it look like?”
“Do you need me to stop the car again?”
I snort as I unscrew my mascara. “You think I’ve made it this far in life without doing my eyeliner in the back seat of a taxi? Just let me know if we hit any speed bumps between now and Dublin.”
“We’re supposed to be going to Dublin?”
“Does making unfunny jokes mean you forgive me?”
“I’ve been heading to Belfast this entire time.”
“Just keep driving,” I say, turning up the radio, and I hide my smile as he does just that.
20
Our journey slows as we near the city, the road filling with cars all heading in the same direction. Dublin itself emerges from fields into industrial parks before the streets narrow and the sidewalks become crowded as we reach its heart. My nerves increase as we crawl to a halt at some junctions, but Luke was right, we are early, and even with the traffic we’re right on time.
We manage to find a parking spot a few streets from the office, next to a manicured private park. Luke mutters about the extortionate price as he feeds a handful of coins into the meter but he only gives me a look when I suggest I pay for it.
Ticket displayed and car locked, we linger for a few seconds, stretching subtly after the journey. With the air cleared once more between us, the last hour or so had been kind of nice as we talked about everything and anything except Beth and us and my looming interview. We went through our favorite albums and TV shows, his placement at the clinic. I told him about the time Jess and I worked overnight in the office and caught two people having sex in the employee shower and another time when we thought someone was having sex in the stationery closet but they were actually just using the acoustics to record their true crime podcast (“all we could hear was loud breathing,” I say). The conversation had been easy, flowing from one topic to the next with no rhyme nor reason but now we’re both silent, almost awkward, as though a spell had been broken as soon as we got out of the car.
“Well,” I say, stepping to the side to let a woman with a stroller pass. “If you want to return that stuff for your mam, I probably won’t be more than an hour or so. Maybe a bit more if they’re running behind.”
“I can walk you there,” is all he says. “It’s on the way.”
So we walk. We’re on the south side of the city, on an avenue lined with elegant Georgian buildings now converted into offices, their façades covered in lush green vines and flowerboxes. Despite the good weather, we share the sidewalk with raincoat-clad tourists and I watch as they stop to take pictures of brightly painted doorways and gray church spires.
