Most of All You: A Love Story(7)
He nodded, shooting me another unrepentant grin. “Yeah, probably not a good idea.”
“Nice, Dominic,” I muttered before heading for my room.
“Hey, Gabe, you left this in the living room.”
I turned around, freezing when I saw the large envelope he was holding, the one with the University of Vermont emblem on the front, the one addressed to me. I moved quickly, grabbing it from him.
“I didn’t leave this in the living room. It was in my room by the computer.” I glared at him.
He shrugged and I let out an angry grunt as I turned again, walking toward my room.
“It was a nice letter she wrote you. You gonna do it?” he asked.
I paused in my doorway, not turning my head. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”
“Could be good.”
“Could be.”
“She’s hot. I looked her up,” he said. “Of course, it was easy. I see you did, too—found it right in the search history. See you’ve gone back to her bio a couple of times. Is she who you’ve been on the phone with lately?”
Jesus. “Try minding your own business once in a while.” I closed my door behind me to the sound of Dominic’s chuckle.
“You are my business, Gabriel Dalton,” I heard him yell.
Clenching my jaw, I stood on the other side of the door, reining in my annoyance at my nosy younger brother. I loved Dominic, but I hated constantly feeling crowded by him.
I looked down at the envelope in my hands, the letter from Chloe Bryant peeking from the top where Dominic had obviously pulled it out. I threw it down on my desk and went to the window, opening it wide. I needed the night air flowing in, the sound of swaying trees and a croaking bullfrog nearby. Peace. Calm.
I lay down on my bed, bringing the vision of Chloe’s picture to my mind—the bio photo that had been published along with an article she had written and suggested I read as part of her online résumé. Chloe, with the brown curls and big green eyes. Chloe, with her open, guileless smile.
Several months before, Chloe had contacted me about the possibility of doing an interview for her senior thesis project about the long-term effects to children that had been abducted and subsequently either escaped or been set free by their captor. There weren’t many such cases in the United States, but I was one of them, and it just so happened I was in the same state as Chloe.
Chloe’s manner, her friendly, open personality, had appealed to me. And something about doing an interview for a graduate student’s thesis, rather than a talk show or magazine, made me feel far more comfortable. I wasn’t going to be sensationalized, used for ratings, made to be public fodder. Again.
We’d e-mailed back and forth, traded some basic information; I even thought maybe she’d flirted a little over the phone, though my experience with flirting was woefully sparse. My attraction to Chloe had filled me with a newfound hope. She was pretty and smart, and I was going to have to spend a fair bit of time with her if I said yes to her request. I’d allowed my thoughts to go to a place where, if there was an attraction between us, I’d be able to act on that attraction.
I thought about Chloe for a moment longer, considering whether I was going to say yes to doing her interview. Once again, I attempted to work through the pros and cons, to get a handle on the nervousness that skated just under a thin pane of excitement, of possibility. But instead of dwelling on hopeful maybes, on the candid expression of a beautiful girl I’d never met, the face of another girl kept invading my thoughts. A girl who, from what I could tell, was the exact opposite of Chloe Bryant. Crystal, with the long, honey-colored hair and the lonely, wary eyes. Crystal, with her guarded, reluctant smile.
Crystal, the girl I’d never see again.
Something about my thoughts unsettled me and I sat up, running a hand through my hair, feeling strangely bereft. Maybe what I really needed to do was force myself to step out of my comfort zone. I’d hidden in the shadows for too long, spent too many years enjoying nothing other than the predictable nature of my day-to-day existence: work, home, occasional trips into town where I interacted with few. I took comfort in the expected, found safe companionship in the books I read, and still found joy in my own freedom, but I also couldn’t deny that I led a lonely sort of life.
I stood at the open window again, contemplating if I could begin to expand the walls I’d erected around myself. If I should. They were of my own making and yet, even so, hadn’t I constructed a personal prison? Was it time that I do something to change that?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I took a seat in front of my computer, logged in to my e-mail, and pulled up the last message from Chloe. I typed a short response:
Chloe, my answer is yes. Any dates work for me. Just let me know your travel plans. I’m looking forward to meeting you. Gabriel.
And then I hit send before I could change my mind.
CHAPTER THREE
Some people are mean to their bones. If you can’t beat ’em, you just have to survive ’em. Play the hand you’ve been dealt until you get a better one.
Gambit, the Duke of Thieves
CRYSTAL
My car gave a last wheezing stutter before it jerked to a stop and died on the side of the road where I’d managed to steer it at the last minute. I let out an angry yell, banging my palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no,” I chanted, sitting back in my seat as defeat settled in the pit of my stomach. “God, give me a break.” I banged my head lightly against the headrest, my shoulders sagging.