by B. Cranford
“He’s a giant bunny, Rowan. What else would I name him?”
“The BFB?”
She tilted her head to look at me. After a moment or two, she laughed. “The Big Friendly Bunny, I get it. Nice one.”
“And here I was worried I’d kissed a woman who didn’t know Roald Dahl.” I blew out a breath. “Crisis averted.”
With a little shake of her head, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss on my chin.
“You know, I could drive you home, and then you don’t need to get on the bus with Hagrid. Don’t need to ask the driver.” And I bet your place is plenty private, even if it is hours away. Warming to the idea, I added, “It’ll be like a road trip. We can stop for snacks.”
“I’ve already paid for my ticket. And my bag is in a locker at the bus station.”
“I can’t do anything about the ticket, but we can swing by and pick up your bag easily enough.” I lifted one eyebrow—in my mind I looked like The Rock handing out the People’s Eyebrow, though I’m sure it looked a hell of a lot different to Lenny—and grinned. “Come on, Challenger, say yes. It’ll be fun.”
She looked soft and almost sad as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone, but that—that might be a little too far for me?”
I could hear the question mark at the end of her sentence, and although I wanted to press on that uncertainty, I also liked her enough to not want to blow my chances of spending time with her in the future.
I had her number. Putting her on the bus didn’t have to be goodbye.
“I understand.” Urging her forward—we must have stopped walking at some point, although I didn’t remember doing so—I kept my voice light. “How about this then? I’ll take you to the bus station and give you moral support while you ask about Hagrid. And if the answer is no, he can come home with me. Whatcha say?”
“Now that I can say yes to.” She grinned, squeezing the bunny tightly as we approached my car. “Thank you for understanding.”
I wanted to tell her that it was hard, quite literally. That ever since we’d kissed under the trees outside Avalanche, I’d been thinking of ways to get her alone. Hell, since before that. But instead, I nodded. “No problem. I kind of like the idea of helping you overcome your fears. One bus driver at a time.”
She laughed. “Yeah? You going to teach me how to drive too?” A pause, a small wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. “That’s number one on my summer to-do list.”
Learn to drive? This woman was a complete mystery. She looked like she could take on anything. Her purple hair and her height certainly gave off the impression of fearlessness, and yet she’d mentioned more than one fear—her challenges.
What had happened to make her afraid to drive? To ride an amusement park ride? I had questions—a bunch of them—but one of them stood above all others at that moment.
“If I teach you to drive, will you kiss me again?”
The bus station was brightly lit, and that’s about the only positive thing that could be said about it. It had an air of uncleanliness that made it feel stale, and if I hadn’t already planned to see Lenny safely onto the bus, seeing the waiting area would have sealed it for me.
Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long.
“Thank you.” She stood beside the bus, the bag we’d rescued from the locker hooked over my shoulder, Hagrid safely in her arms. “For waiting with me.”
“Do you do this often?” More questions piled up in my mind. “Catch buses late at night?” Granted, it wasn’t truly late, but I wondered if this was another thing on her list, or if somehow this wasn’t something that scared her in the first place.
“No, not often.” She moved the hand not holding Hagrid around in what looked like another one of her nervous flails. Up, down, into pocket, out of pocket. She’d looked embarrassed the few times it’d happened, but it only made her more interesting, more attractive to me. “It was, um, well—”
“Another to-do list item?” I asked, interrupting because she seemed to flounder.
A nod. “That, and I didn’t want to drag my parents along with me. I mostly just Uber around when I’m home, or I walk. I have a sweet little single-speed bike that I use too. Plus, my neighbor across the road and down one works”—she frowned, shook her head, then placed her fingertips against her chest, over her heart—“worked at the same school as me, so we’d ride together a lot.”
I knew without her having to explain that the neighbor, her friend, was the same one she’d mentioned earlier—the one she’d dyed her hair for. Cautious but curious—and confident I might know the answer—I asked, “How come you’re leaving your current job?”
“It’s all part of the same thing, really. A new challenge.” A quiet, sad sigh. “And because it wouldn’t be the same without her there. Losing her made it painfully clear that life’s short, you know?”
I nodded, but rather than wrap her up in a hug meant to comfort, I decided instead to zero in on a topic that wasn’t fraught with grief, that might make her smile at me again. “A single-speed bike, huh? I didn’t take you for a hipster. A Canadian hipster. What other secrets are you hiding?”
Eyes narrowing, but full of mischief, she replied, “I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me, birthday boy.”
“You’re right. Tell me more.” I looked at my watch. “I bet those doors open in less than five minutes, so you’d better talk fast.”
The little shove she gave me was ineffectual in that it didn’t displace me, but it worked to get my attention. Her hand landed on my chest, and instead of stepping back, or even pretending that she’d got me, I laid my hand over hers and made a confession. “I stole your phone number.”
She looked at me quizzically until understanding dawned in her blue eyes. “You, what, texted yourself from my phone?” At my nod, she surprised me by curling her fingers into my shirt, scratching my chest through the cotton, and sending a blast of heat over my skin. “Joke’s on you then, Rowan. Because that means I have your number too.”
“I guess it does. You think you’re going to use it?”
“Hmm, maybe. You did promise to teach me to drive.”
“Payment in kisses,” I reminded her, uncaring if I sounded corny or needy or whatever. “Is calling a man on your list?”
She shook her head. “No. But it could be.”
“I’m willing to help you out with that as well as the driving.”
“Magnanimous of you.”
“I thought so.”
She grinned but was distracted by the sound of the bus doors swishing open. “I’d better find my brave and go ask.”
“I’m right behind you,” I assured her, falling into step beside her as she made her way over to the driver.
“Beside me, you mean.”
“That too.” I stopped, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into my arms, a movement I hadn’t planned at all. Something about this woman made me act out of character—and like a lovesick fool.
Which was stupid because I was not lovesick. And though it could be argued that I was a fool, I had never before been a fool for a woman.
“I meant what I said before. I want to help you with more of the items on your list. And not in a pervy, let’s add outdoor sex to the list way.” I made a face, kissed the tip of her nose. “Okay, not totally in that way, but maybe a little.”
A huffed laugh escaped from her. “At least you’re honest. In what other way do you mean?”
It might have been wishful thinking on my part, but I could have sworn I saw hope there on her face, beneath the scattered freckles I wanted to explore with my lips.
“I want to help you face your fears, however big or small they might be. And I want to do it while dating you.”
Chapter Five
Lenny
I probably smiled all the way home. Because Rowan’s deep voice, his happy crinkles, his nose kisses—they were stuck in my mind.
“I want to help you face your
fears. And I want to do it while dating you.”
He’d said that. And when I’d asked about Hagrid, the bus driver merely giving me a nod-shrug that said he couldn’t care less, Rowan had made a point to say he was proud of me. Me. The tall twin. The shy one.
The one who never did anything too crazy, who hadn’t snuck out as a teenager, or used my parents’ divorce to get her way. The twin who hadn’t ventured far for college, because staying close seemed smarter and safer. Meanwhile, Willa went off into the world with a great, big smile on her face, and fearlessness in her every step.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister. She’s my favorite person in the entire world, but I’ve always been jealous of her spirit, her adventurousness, her ability to say and do anything and get away with it.
I sighed as I walked back into the small house I rented, half-happy, half-sad. Happy because I’d been braver that day than I’d ever been before. Sad because what if it was a fluke? Placing Hagrid carefully on the couch that was only a few steps from my front door, I drew my phone out of my pocket to let Rowan know I was home safely when the first doubt slithered its way into my brain.
What if it was all just talk?
I knew, I knew, it was stupid to listen to that voice, the one that was always there waiting to make me second-guess myself. It had been born on a day I’d rather forget—and I’d carried it around inside me ever since, letting it dictate my life and my choices for years.
Well, not anymore. I’d spent the day being as fearless as I could, and I wasn’t about to stop.
If it was all just talk, then so be it. At least I’ll have tried. Sucking in a fortifying breath after making my decision—Rowan and Willa both there in my mind telling me that they’d help me learn to be braver—I swiped the screen to cue up a message. It might’ve been stupidly late—the bus having been delayed twice by lengthy stretches of roadwork—but even if I wouldn’t get an immediate response, I wanted to reach out, to try. Thinking hard about what I wanted to say, I decided to stick with simple, light, and not too needy.
I did not want to come off as needy.
After letting him know I was home safely and I’d like to see him again, I fell into bed with a smile on my face, a feeling of accomplishment that spread across my whole body—like the tingles I’d felt when I’d kissed Rowan—and an image of us with hands linked, tangled in bed together, on my mind.
The phone call that woke me up from my nightmare was not from Rowan. Or the school where I’d interviewed.
It was my sister, and she was bubbling over with excitement about a new man in her life. “He’s perfect, Len. I think I could love him,” she said, a smile evident in every word she spoke. Hearing it, the hope she had for this guy who sounded perfect but was, in all likelihood, not had the reverse effect on me.
Because it made me wonder. And it made me worry.
Which, coupled with the bad dream that still stuck to my skin, put the icy dread of falling from a great height back into my heart. Only this time, I wasn’t afraid of being stuck on a halted coaster, I was afraid that my day with Rowan wasn’t real.
“Lenny? Yo, Len! Are you okay? You got quiet.” Willa’s ebullient tone morphed into a wariness that made me feel sick. I’d done that to her without even trying—taken her joy and weighed it down.
“I’m fine, Wils, I just got lost in my head for a second. You know me.” I tried to inject a lightheartedness into my words that I didn’t feel, but when someone knows you as well as my sister knew me . . . well, there was no fooling her.
“Is this about the man in the photo from yesterday?” she asked, a knowing in her voice that I recognized. “I’ve been waiting for you to bring him up, but I’m kind of running out of patience over here.”
I started to deny it, but she cut in again. “Spill it, dear sister, or I’m coming over to find out in person what’s wrong.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Of course I don’t have to. I want to because you’re my sister, and I love the shit out of you.” That was Willa for you, casual swearing and endless affection.
“I was going to say, ‘You don’t have to be a bitch about it, but whatever,’” I joked, thinking about hedging some more, wondering if I could distract her somehow. Ultimately, though, I decided that if my woes were going to weigh me down, then I needed to share the load.
Because I knew it would help. It always helped, whether it was me sharing my load, or helping my twin shoulder hers.
“It is about the guy I met yesterday.” I paused for Willa to make a high-pitched noise that signaled her approval. “Rowan. He was, oh, I don’t think I can describe it. But it was such a good day, and he went on one of the rides with me and didn’t laugh at me being afraid. Not even when this seven-year-old in the line made it clear she was in no way worried about the ride while I was literally shaking.”
“Okay. So far, so good. Keep going.”
“We kissed.” Another squeal, another pause. “We talked. He asked if he could see me again, if he could help me with my list.” I’d told only one person other than Rowan about my summer goals, and that was Willa. “I said yes.”
“And?” she asked quietly. The understanding in her voice made me want to curl into a little ball.
“I sent him a message before I went to bed last night, and he hasn’t replied yet.”
“So? Maybe he’s not awake yet. It’s only just past eight, and it’s a Sunday.”
Making a doubtful noise, I contemplated what to say next.
“That’s not all that’s bothering you, right?” Willa asked before I had a chance to find my words. “I know you’re trying to find the exact right thing to say, Len, but you don’t need to do that with me. Just say it.”
Nodding, even though she couldn’t see me, I confessed, “I had the dream again last night. The one about the crash.”
I didn’t need to hear her, “Oh, Lenny,” to know she said it. I was already talking again. “It was that night, only it wasn’t Uncle Garrett in the car with me, it was Rowan.” I gulped in air, pushing past the pit in my stomach and the voice in my head that screamed at me to stop talking, so I could tell my sister the rest. “And then the accident happened, only he didn’t—he wasn’t gone. He unbuckled himself and left me there. Upside down, screaming, and scared.”
I shuddered, my dream merging with my memories of the car accident that had left me trapped, strapped into a rolled-over car, making a Frankenstein’s monster out of the past, the present, and the future. “I’m afraid, Willa.”
“I know, I know.” She murmured reassurances in my ear while I got my breathing under control, and when I was finally back on solid ground, she told me what I needed to hear. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to give him time to reply—because it’s a Sunday, and he legitimately might be asleep—and if he doesn’t, then you try one more time. Text or call, your decision. And if you still don’t hear from him, then it’s not meant to be, and at least you tried, right?”
“Right.” That’s what I’d told myself when I sent the text. I just had to try, and if it didn’t work out, then it didn’t work out.
I really wanted it to work out, though.
“Good. Now, I have to go get ready for my brunch date”—the earlier excitement came back smoothly, like we’d never taken a detour down deep into my psyche—“and you’re going to . . . I don’t know, do something crazy. Like have cake for breakfast.”
“That’s something crazy? You’re taking two hours to get ready for a date, and I’m eating cake for breakfast. Which one is crazier?”
She laughed lightly, washing away the last traces of seriousness from our conversation, putting us back on the surface level on which she preferred to live her life. Except with me, nothing too deep for Willa Johnstone. Ever. She’d cut and run before she let that happen. “Definitely cake for breakfast. Two hours is totally reasonable.”
Two hours later, I was curled up on my couch, preparing to send my sister a messa
ge asking if she was finally ready for her date when it rang in my hand. Sounding shrill in the quiet of my house, I stared at the unfamiliar number and resisted the urge to send it to voicemail. Because it was Rowan. I was sure it was.
I’d be surer if I’d saved his number, but #hindsight, right?
“Hello?”
“Hey, Challenger. Question: does being unable to wait to call you make me a stalker or, like, charming and likable? Please don’t say desperate, it’s too early for my ego to handle that.”
Hearing his voice, accompanied by a self-deprecating chuckle, gave me the tingles. And since I was alone where no one could see me, I did a little dance because he’d called me. All the doubts that had abounded in my head since I’d woken up just sort of . . . flittered away with each questionable shimmy.
Oddly touched by the glimpse of his own insecurities, I rushed to reassure him. “Definitely charming, though I’m not sure I’d call ten in the morning ‘too early.’” Fisting my hand and lightly punching my thigh, I made my confession. “And don’t worry about being desperate, because I did a small and very demure victory dance just now. When I realized it was you.”
His answering laugh made my body light up. Something about the way it hit deep and low, full of warmth—a laugh because he was happy, not because he was mocking or judging me—gave me the same kind of adrenaline rush that had resulted in our first kiss.
I would never forget our first kiss under the dogwood trees at Island Heights.
Or the fact that we’d never found somewhere private.
Letting that rush fuel me, I spoke without considering my words fully. “You know, I know we talked about you helping me learn to drive”—I quelled the bite of terror that welled up at just the thought of someone else trying to teach me that—“but there’s something else on my to-do list that I think I’d rather you help me with.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he asked, hmming in my ear. Something about the sound made me wonder what he was doing while talking to me. Was he sitting in a soft, leathery recliner? In his kitchen, making something to eat? Stretched out in bed?