Beyond the Point(58)

They were all little shits, really. Her high school boyfriend. The one at West Point, he-who-would-not-be-named. She knew it wasn’t healthy, thinking about John Collins. But for some reason, lately, she couldn’t get his green eyes out of her mind. Her memory played tricks on her, reminding her of all the mistakes she’d made—showing up to his room, breaking it off so abruptly. She wanted to find a wrinkle in time, a place to jump back and do something different that would change what he’d done.

Avery remembered walking into her dorm room at the end of their sophomore year, clueless that e-mails were transporting images of her naked body around campus.

“What’s going on?” Avery had asked. Dani and Hannah were there, waiting for her, their eyes puffy from crying. Dani held a stack of papers in her hands.

And then her world had fallen apart.

“He won’t stop unless he’s caught,” Dani had said after showing Avery the photos.

Avery didn’t cry. She simply stared at the white cinder-block wall, feeling cold and numb. “Everyone will know that I slept with him. They’ll know I ratted him out.”

“He didn’t just do it to you,” Hannah had said. “He did it to all of us.”

The world seemed to conspire to teach her the same lesson over and over again. You couldn’t trust anyone.

In the tool shed, wire-cutters, stacks of batteries, and cables littered the walls, sorted on shelves and hanging from hooks. Avery’s eyes scanned the equipment until they landed on the wire she needed, and she reached for it, feeling its weight in the palm of her hand. If only there were tools like this to rewire her heart, she thought.

Avery took a moment to remind herself of the facts. There were rules to follow. And this one, this gold-bearded, perfect-bodied Special Ops little shit, was extra shitty because he lied for a living! No matter how perfect he might have looked from the outside, he spent his entire Army career paid—no, trained—to manipulate other people for information. Road. Closed.

A sigh of relief exited her lungs. The responsible part of her brain had won the argument. She prayed that when she stepped back outside, he would be gone. She didn’t want to see his face because ultimately, she didn’t trust herself to walk through the mental gymnastics of “no” again.

Before she could leave, Avery heard the door behind her open and close. She turned, and there he was, standing between her and the door.

“Excuse me,” Avery said, lowering her eyes and trying to walk around him.

He placed a single hand on her shoulder, stopping her from moving any farther. He’d put on a beige Army undershirt, but the tattoos on his right arm were visible from under the sleeve—a bird? A skull?—the colors were vivid, black and blue. His beard was tidy and combed. He stood several inches taller than she’d originally assumed. Avery lifted her chin and looked him right in the eye.

“Please move,” she said.

“Are you married?” he asked.

Avery cocked her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“I said, are you married.” His voice didn’t waver. His eyes were pale gray, two round clouds, about to storm.

“No,” she huffed, while simultaneously eyeing his unadorned left hand. “Now, if you don’t mind . . .” She tried to push around him, but this time, he grabbed her wrist. A folded note pressed into the palm of her hand under the weight of his thumb. And then he left.

Once the door closed, Avery found herself quickly unfolding the yellow Post-it note in trembling hands. Her whole body shook with desire and confusion.

8 PM Friday. I’ll pick you up. —Noah

So that was his name. Noah. Staring up at the single hanging bulb in the tool shed, Avery shook her head and groaned. How arrogant was this guy to think she didn’t have any plans Friday night? And how would he know where to pick her up? She found herself staring at his dark handwriting—a message written in the tiniest letters. She studied his name.

Was he the kind of man that would build a vessel to bring her to a new world? Or the kind of man that would shut her out and let her drown?

“JUST TELL HIM you’re sick,” Hannah said a few days later.

She sat cross-legged on Avery’s bed, holding a cell phone between her hands. She was waiting for a call from Tim, who was finishing his Infantry Basic Officer Leader Course.

“How would I do that?” Avery replied, stepping out from her bathroom. “I don’t even have his phone number. And what—like they’re going to kick me out of the Army for having dinner with the guy?”

She wore nothing but black underwear and a matching bra, her hair held up in hot rollers.

Things had progressed so quickly in that tool shed, she’d completely forgotten that she and Hannah had made plans to hang out tonight. But it wasn’t like they had tickets to a concert or reservations at a restaurant. When Hannah had arrived a half hour earlier, holding a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food and a rented DVD of Pride & Prejudice, Avery had thrown her head back and slapped her forehead. Hannah’s face had fallen in disappointment.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Avery said, stepping out from the bathroom.

“It’s fine. I’ll watch Keira Knightley fall in love by myself. In my sad, empty house, by myself. Eating ice cream. By myself.”

Avery walked over and sat on the side of the bed. “You hate me.”