Page 23 of For the Record
Nodding, I took a sip of my drink and leaned back in my chair. Another song started up, but the three of us decided to sit it out. Not that Adam needed much convincing.
Dad chuckled at some of the other couples, one in particular being extra in their matching orange sweat suits.
“It’s more fun with a partner.” He smiled. “Your mom always loved to dance.”
Cold sweat broke out at my neck, my fingers becoming clammy against my water bottle. It wasn’t the first time he had asked, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. But still, the mention of her was always enough to cause my anxiety to rise. Most of his flare-ups were caused by my mother being brought into conversation. I had to handle it with grace each time, or it could ruin his entire week.
“She sure does.” I forced a smile, holding back any disparity. Adam’s gaze felt like a warm, comforting caress over my jawline to my cheekbone, but it wasn’t enough to calm my racing heart.
“Where is she tonight? Couldn’t make it?” Dad asked with this innocent look that tore me in two. He had no idea. His heart was so pure. He had completely lost a piece of his life that was dark and cold, and it was up to me to keep it that way.
I had found it was best to just…play along. But the best thing was never the easiest. It felt like I was lying to the one person who meant the most to me. Like I was casually letting him believe his whole life was only what he’d made it up to be, keeping the dirty secrets all mine to hold. They got heavier each day.
I cleared my throat and straightened my back, attempting an easy tone. “Nope, she couldn’t today. Just me for now.”
Dad laughed, and relief flooded me. If there were no more questions tonight, then I could slip out of here. He sat down next to Adam and elbowed him jokingly. “Suppose that’s good enough.”
On that note, we needed to leave.
I said quick goodbyes to the familiar faces around me, being sure to give extra-long hugs to the ones I knew didn’t receive visitors. Then I made my way back to Dad. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed tight. “Had fun tonight.”
“Ah, me too, kiddo. Always a blast with you.” He looked over at Adam, who was holding both his water bottle and mine, with my light jacket slung over his arm. Dad pulled me in once more and whispered in my ear. “Bring him back again, yeah?”
I nodded with a smile. I think I would.
Currently playing: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John
***
Rachel’s knee was bouncing feverishly next to mine, shaking our seats as she looked out the window.
It was a four-hour flight, and if she kept wringing her hands and making the plane ricochet back and forth, I was going to go insane. She looked down at her phone, refreshing her text messages, and locked it—before repeating the process again.
She’d done the same thing the entire way here, anxiously waiting for something to pop up that she didn’t want to see.
I leaned toward her seat, spreading my legs enough so our knees touched. “You’re worried about Jack.”
Her pout deepened with her nod as she looked up at me. She didn’t bother asking me how I knew. At this point, I knew her well enough to read her like a book, and she knew that. It was part of my job. To pay incredible attention to my surroundings. She didn’t bother beating around the bush with me, because there was no point. It was like how she understood me, whether I felt like talking or not. Every furrowed brow, every rumble in my chest, she translated. Anything I didn’t say, she already knew.
Rachel sighed. “It’s just, if something happens or they have a question or anything at all, they can’t reach me for four hours. I can’t help but be a little nervous. Plus, he started taking that medicine for his acid reflux last week, and what if he all of a sudden gets an allergic reaction? It could be fatal. He could—”
I nodded along to her rambling, letting her fire off every potentially dangerous scenario that could happen in a span of four hours.
My eyes caught on her cheeks. They were void of any makeup. Fresh freckles danced across her nose, all the way to her ear. Usually, they were so covered up you’d never even know they were there. They were so light you’d have to pay close attention to even notice, but when you did, it was like you couldn’t look away.
She must’ve really been nervous, because I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen Rachel without makeup. She always said if she wasn’t 100 percent put together, then she was either deathly ill or taken over by aliens. She wore heels more than tennis shoes, and was rarely ever caught without her face perfectly done. I liked that she dropped her walls around me. It took at least a year, but when she did open the door to let me in with her hair in a loose braid and her face void of anything extra, my heart stuttered. Even in her ridiculous pajamas and the Snuggie draped over her, she still made my body react in ways no one else could. My cheeks lit in a flame at the sight of her, and I was not a blushing man. It felt like her way of saying here I am. I’ll allow you to see this part because I trust you.
Watching her ramble along about possible allergies he could develop over the course of a plane ride and flailing her arms around dramatically, I took a mental picture of her. The pale skin and pink cheeks. Full lips that were naturally rosy and eyelashes that curled upward. I wasn’t going to say she looked better or worse with or without makeup. I liked looking at her regardless. But there was something so appealing about having her guard down like this. With no flirty wit or winged eyeliner to block her true feelings. I liked her that way. It felt like there were fewer walls between us.
She continued her runaway list of potential mishaps, her voice raising louder. “And God knows that if they try to call my sister, she’ll have no clue what to do. She doesn’t even know which building he’s in. It would take her at least six hours to get there anyway. She may not even have the same number. I mean, what do they do if she doesn’t answer? They better not call my mother. I would light a flame up someone’s—”
I cleared my throat as an old lady diagonal from us gave us a death glare.
Rachel took in a deep breath and turned her head to the window with a sniffle. She hated crying, hated it more than anyone I had ever known. It made her feel angry and defeated.
Desperate to stop any tears from rolling down her cheek, I mumbled out, “So you wanna move in with me or what?”
She jerked her head back to me, the tiniest tear stuck in the corner of her eye, hanging on the edge. “What?” she whispered back.