Blindness(15)

Nothing about me was flashy—not my wardrobe, not my hair, not my makeup. I worried a little that I might not fit in if we ended up moving to Washington. I didn’t have that polished look that I imagine everyone else in a big city had. I’m presentable. I would even admit that I could be pretty. But I was forgettable—floating through my relationships with people like a ghost. Trevor was the first person to really see me. And I was learning from him just how important things like mingling could be—making an impression. And I had gotten better at it.

We decide on a cute little seafood spot by the river. It’s one of my favorite restaurants—we went there a few times when we first started dating. The place has dancing on the pier, and Trevor holds me close after dinner for a few songs, swaying me under the stars.

Being close to him, breathing him in, reminds me of why I fell in love with him in the first place. Trevor has this power to make me feel safe—my worries completely dissolve. When we first started dating, I was struggling with some of my core classes like political science and philosophy, and he just took charge, tutoring me and quizzing me on pre-test nights, sometimes until two in the morning. I always felt guilty, and would tell him to go home and get some rest, but he insisted he stay until I knew my material—all of it. And he never left me feeling vulnerable or unsure of myself, even though it meant he’d be sleeping without a pillow in a dorm-room study lounge.

He’s filling me with the same sense of security tonight, and I find myself melting from it. The wooded smell of his cologne, the feel of his hands and arms against my body, the way his biceps look wrapped tightly in his black button-down shirt—has me full of desire. I’m dizzy with lust by the time we get home, ready to rip his shirt and tie from his chest the moment he puts the car in park. But my heat quickly cools as soon as I register the shear number of vehicles surrounding us in his parents’ driveway.

“Shit!” Trevor says, as he swings the car door open, and flings it shut.

I climb out slowly, my ears registering the thumping sounds coming from the garage, and the unmistakable noise of people, probably dozens, laughing and talking inside. Trevor is nowhere to be seen, so I start to make my way closer to the garage. I’m about to climb the stairs up to the carriage house when I hear Cody’s voice. It halts me—the chill I’d managed to rid myself of tonight is back the second he speaks.

“You looking for Prince Charming?” he asks, snarky and condescending. I decide to ignore it, and instead just treat him as I always would.

“Did Trevor go upstairs?” I ask, my eyes not able to adjust to meet Cody’s in the dark. I can tell he’s sitting with his feet propped up on the hood of a car. I barely make out the bottle as he raises it to his lips, but the closer I get, the more alcohol I can smell. It’s whiskey, I think, though I’m not sure. Mac drank whiskey, but only on special occasions.

Cody just chuckles at me—slow and quiet, like it’s a secret he wants only me to hear. It has me stopping in my tracks and my skin covered in goosebumps. There’s something about him that has my heart racing tonight, but not the safe rush of flirtation like before. I’m anxious, and my stomach feels sick. I swallow hard, and turn to look over my shoulder, instantly wishing that I had just gone upstairs. When I look back, I see Cody in my personal space. I can see his eyes now, the familiar warmth in them gone. No blue. No sparkle. No crinkles cluing me into his mouth and smile. What are left in their place are eyes that are cold, hard, and lifeless.

I startle as he reaches forward and grabs a lock of my hair from my bare shoulder, grazing my skin, and then twisting it in his fingers and studying it, like he’s searching for the shimmer from the moonlight. I’m left shivering.

“Yeah, pretty boy went up stairs,” he says, his voice rough.

“Okay, well…I’m just going to go find him. Nice to see you,” I say, backing away so my hair falls from his fingers. He bites his tongue lightly with his teeth, almost like he’s struggling with something, and then his eyes flicker to mine, and his lips curl into a faint, unnerving smile.

“Trevor pays for all your shit, huh?” he asks. I suck in a breath at his bold statement. I’m confused, and I know I should also be offended, but something about his face is keeping my feet firm to the ground. Like I’m challenging him, but giving him the benefit of the doubt all at once.

“What do you mean? What shit?” I ask, folding my arms in front of me, partly for protection, and partly to hold in the anger that I can feel simmering in my belly.

“I mean like school and shit. This house, where you stay? He’s like…your ticket, isn’t he?” Cody says, bitterness and disgust just oozing from his posture, his face, his words—his everything. “I mean, that’s why you’re with him, right? He gets to take you to dinners and clubs, like arm candy, and you get a place to stay and your tuition covered.”

Cody starts to laugh to himself a little, and he stumbles on his feet. He wipes his sleeve along his mouth from his last drink. I’m digesting his words, my mind catching up to them, and beginning to understand what he’s insinuating, when he leaves no more doubt.

“So, what would this buy me?” he asks, handing me a crumpled up twenty dollar bill, and moving in closely, dipping his head down low so he can graze his nose along the nape of my neck, his lips stopping against my ear. I know I should back away, but I’m paralyzed by his touch—both afraid and aroused, the contradiction playing out inside my heart almost breaking it in half. “Does that get me a kiss?”