This Girl

“It’s fine,” she says, reaching for the napkin. “I can get it.”



I hand her the napkin and reach for the bandage. It’s awkwardly quiet as I fidget with the wrapper. For some reason, her presence makes the house seem eerily empty and quiet. I never notice the silence when I’m alone, but the lack of conversation occurring right now is uncomfortably obvious. I think of something to say to fill the void.



“So, what were you doing outside in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning? Are you guys still unloading?”



She shakes her head and tosses the napkin into the trash can. “Coffee,” she says, matter-of-fact.



“Oh. I guess you aren’t a morning person.” I’m secretly hoping that’s the case. She seems sort of pissy. I’d like to blame it on her lack of caffeine, rather than on indifference toward me. I take a step closer to place the bandage on her shoulder. I briefly pause before touching her and take in a silent breath, preparing for the rush I seem to get every time I touch her. I put the bandage in place and pat it softly, securing the edges with pressure from my fingertips. Her skin prickles and she wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her forearms up and down.



I gave her chills. This is good.



“There,” I say, giving it one last, unnecessary pat. “Good as new.”



She clears her throat. “Thanks,” she says, standing up. “And I am a morning person, after I get my coffee.”



Coffee. She needs coffee. I’ve got coffee.



I quickly walk over to the counter where the remaining brew is still warm in the pot. I grab a cup out of the cabinet and fill it up for her, then set it on the counter in front of her. “You want cream or sugar?”



She shakes her head and smiles at me. “Black is fine. Thanks,” she says. I lean across the bar and watch as she brings the coffee to her lips. She blows softly into the cup before pressing her lips to the brim and sips, never taking her eyes off mine.



I’ve never wanted to be a coffee cup so bad in my life.



Why do I have to go to work? I could stay here and watch her drink coffee all day. She’s looking right at me, probably wondering what the hell I’m doing staring at her so much. I straighten back up and look down at my watch. “I need to go, my brother is waiting in the car and I’ve got to get to work. I’ll walk you back. You can keep the cup.”



She looks down at the cup and reads it. I didn’t even notice I gave her my father’s cup. She runs her fingers across the letters and smiles. “I’ll be okay,” she says as she stands to leave. “I think I’ve got the whole walking erect thing down now.” She walks through the living room and is opening the front door when I spot my jacket lying across the back of my couch. I reach over and grab it.



“Layken, take this. It’s cold out there.” She tries to refuse but I shake my head and make her take my jacket. If she takes the jacket, she’ll eventually have to bring it back, which is exactly what I’m hoping will happen. She smiles and pulls my jacket over her shoulders, then she heads across the street.



When I reach my car I turn to watch her make her way back to her house. I like the way she looks, engulfed by my jacket over her pajamas. Who knew pajamas and Darth Vader house shoes could be so damn sexy?



“Layken!” I yell. She turns around just before she reaches her front door. “May the force be with you!” I laugh and hop in the car before she can say anything.



“What took you so long? I’m f-f-f-freezing,” Caulder says.



“Sorry,” I say. “Layken hurt herself.” I back the car up and pull out onto the street.



“What happened?” he asks.



“She tried to walk on the frozen concrete in Darth Vader house shoes. She busted it and cut herself.”



Caulder giggles. “She has Darth Vader house shoes?”



I smile at him. “I know, right?”



3.



the honeymoon



“I LOVE HEARING this,” she says, grinning next to me on the bed. “So you thought I was cute, huh?”



“No, I didn’t think you were cute. I thought you were absolutely beautiful,” I correct her. I brush the hair out of her face and she leans into my hand and kisses my palm. “What did you think about me?” I ask.



She smiles. “I tried not to. I was attracted to you, but I had so much going on and we’d been in Michigan all of five minutes when we met. Circumstances just kept bringing us back together, though. Every minute I was around you, I just fell harder and harder in crush with you.”



“In crush?” I laugh.



She grins. “I was so in crush with you, Will. Especially after you helped me with the bandage. And after our trip to the grocery store.”



“I’d have to say we were both in crush after that trip.”



crush



I ATTEMPT TO go over my lesson plans for the next week but I can’t even concentrate. I try to pinpoint exactly what it is about her that completely consumes my mind, but I can’t figure it out. After the incident with the bandage this morning, she was all that went through my head at work. I wish she would just do or say something stupid so this hold she has on me would break. It’s weird.



I’ve never been so consumed by the thought of someone in my entire life. This is the last thing I need right now, but somehow it’s the only thing I want.



Caulder bursts through the front door, laughing. He slips his shoes off and walks across the living room shaking his head. “That Darth Vader girl asked me how to get to the grocery store,” he says. “I don’t know how to drive. She’s so dumb.” He walks to the refrigerator and opens it.



I stand up. “Is she still out there?” I rush to the front door and see her Jeep parked in the street. I quickly pull my shoes on, then run outside before she drives away. I’m relieved when I see her fiddling with the GPS. It’ll buy me some time.



I wonder if she would care if I went with her to the store.



Of course she would. That would be awkward.



“That’s not a good idea,” I say as I approach her car, then lean through the window.



She glances up at me, a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth. “What’s not a good idea?” She begins to insert the GPS into its holder.



Shit. What’s not a good idea? I didn’t think this through. I say the first lie that pops into my head. “There’s quite a bit of construction going on right now. That thing will get you lost.”



Just as she opens her mouth to respond, a car pulls up beside her and a woman leans over the seat and speaks to Layken through the window. This has got to be her mother; they’re practically identical. Same accent and everything.



I continue to lean through the window, using her distraction as an opportunity to study her. Her hair is a deep brown, but not as dark as her mother’s. Her nail polish is chipped. It looks like she picks at it, which somehow makes me like her even more. Vaughn never left the house unless her hair and nails were perfect.



Kel jumps out of the other car and invites Caulder, who is now standing next to me, over. Caulder asks if he can go, so I grab the handle of Layken’s car door without worrying about possible consequences. The hell with it.



“Sure,” I reply to him. “I’ll be back in a little while, Caulder. I’m riding with Layken to the store.” I open her door and climb inside without second-guessing my actions. She shoots me a look, but it seems more like an amused one than an irritated one. I take this as another good sign. “I don’t give very good verbal directions. Mind if I go with you?”



She laughs and puts the car into gear, glancing at the seat belt I’ve already fastened. “I guess not.”



The closest grocery store is only two blocks away. That’s not nearly enough time with her, so I decide to take her the long way. It’ll give me more of a chance to get to know her.



“So, Caulder is your little brother’s name?” she asks as she turns off our street. I like how she says Caulder’s name, drawing out the Caul a little bit more than necessary.



“One and only. My parents tried to have another baby for years. They eventually had Caulder, when names like Will weren’t that cool anymore.”



“I like your name,” she says. She smiles at me and her cheeks redden, then she quickly darts her eyes back to the road.



Her embarrassment makes me laugh. Was that a compliment? Did she just flirt with me? God, I hope so.



I instruct her to turn left. She flips the blinker on, then brings her hand up to her hair, running her fingers through it all the way down to the ends; an action that causes me to gulp. When both of her hands are on the steering wheel again, I reach over and brush her hair behind her shoulders, then pull back the collar of her shirt.



I look at her bandage, wanting her to believe this is the reason I’m touching her, when really I just needed to feel her hair. When my fingers graze her skin, she flinches. It seems like I make her nervous. I’m hoping it’s in a good way. “You’re going to need a new bandage soon,” I say. I pull her shirt back up and pat it.



“Remind me to grab some at the store,” she says. She grips the steering wheel tightly and keeps her eyes focused on the road. She’s probably not used to driving in the snow. I should have offered to drive.



The next few moments are quiet. I catch myself staring at her, deep in thought. I wonder how old she is. She doesn’t look older than me, but it would suck if she is. Sometimes girls don’t date guys that are younger than them. I should really find out more about her.



“So, Layken,” I say casually. I place my hand on her headrest and glance behind me at all the boxes still in the back of the Jeep. “Tell me about yourself.”



She cocks an eyebrow at me, then turns her attention back to the road. “Um, no. That’s so cliché.”



Her unexpected response makes me laugh under my breath. She’s feisty. I like that, but it still doesn’t answer any of my questions. I glance to her CD player and lean forward. “Fine. I’ll figure you out myself,” I say as I hit eject. “You know, you can tell a lot about a person by their taste in music.” I pull the CD out of the player and hold my breath as I prepare to read it. Please don’t let her be into Nickelback. I would have to jump out of the car. When I read the handwritten label, I laugh. “Layken’s shit? Is shit descriptive here, or possessive?”



She snatches the CD out of my hands and inserts it back into the player. “I don’t like Kel touching my shit, okay?”



And that’s when it happens . . . the most beautiful sound in the world. Sure, the song is beautiful. All Avett Brothers songs are beautiful. But the sound I’m hearing is the sound of commonality. The sound of similarity. The sound of my favorite band that I’ve been listening to nonstop for two years . . . coming from her speakers.



What are the chances?



She immediately leans forward and turns down the volume. I unconsciously grab her hand to stop her. “Turn it back up, I know this.”



She smirks at me like there isn’t a shred of truth to what I just said. “Oh, yeah? What’s it called?” she challenges.