by Grey, R. S.
The light from the lantern cuts out and the cabin falls back into complete darkness, made even blacker by the fact that my eyes haven’t adjusted. I lie perfectly still and listen to him as he pads across the floor and folds himself into the bunk beneath mine. He settles in place and the cicadas hum loudly, acting as a white noise that drowns out the sound of my heart thumping hard in my ears.
I don’t know how long I stay awake, thinking, contemplating, breaking down possibilities and next steps. The only thing I know for sure is that I cannot be here in this cabin when he wakes up.
Chapter 9
Ethan
The little thief is gone in the morning. I’m a pretty light sleeper, which means she was as quiet as a mouse on her way out, trying her hardest not to wake me. I’m not surprised she was successful. If she was stealthy enough to steal my wallet without me noticing, I’m sure it wasn’t all that hard to sneak out without rousing me.
I know she saw me last night. I wanted her to see me when I walked out of the shower. I wanted her to have to lie there all night wondering how the hell we came to be bunkmates in this tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere. I wanted all the possibilities to fester in her mind, the more sinister the better.
I sit up and let my bare feet hit the wood floor, digging the heels of my palms into my tired eyes. I could use a few more hours of shuteye. Last night, I tossed and turned longer than I usually do, unable to put her out of my mind. That wasn’t part of my plan. I was supposed to be sleeping like a baby while she stayed up worrying.
Even now, she’s gone, but her scent still lingers. It’s sweet and feminine, like a ripe juicy peach.
I smelled it all night.
I need to get out of here.
I brush my teeth and stare angrily at my reflection. This isn’t like me. I’m not a vindictive asshole in my normal life. I mean, sure, I’m not the most easygoing guy. In fact, even suggesting that would make my sister, Isla, die from laughter. She says I’m more of a “strong silent type,” whatever that means. I talk…when I feel like there’s something worth saying. I guess I’ve always been a little reserved and more serious than my friends. I don’t know. My parents tell me I was a shy kid. Maybe I never really grew out of it.
The point is, just because I’m not Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky doesn’t mean I walk around conjuring up revenge plots. I would have let it go with Taylor. Yes, Taylor—I know her name because I read her application. I know for her last job she worked as a maid at the motel where I stayed last month. No doubt it was a convenient location for her, right next to the bar and all. I wonder how many guys came before me, how much money she’s stolen.
A part of me feels pity for her, but then I remember she’s here, working for my company and lying about her identity.
Surely conning guys at the bar is a much quicker way to make a buck than an honest day’s work, but then again, I haven’t been assured that’s the reason she’s here. It’s why I have her rooming with me. I want to keep an eye on her.
Unfortunately, my work gets in the way of that a little. I don’t exactly have all day to follow her around like I’m a secret agent on a stealth mission. I’m up at the jobsite all morning ensuring things are good to go for the crew to start demolition tomorrow. Right now, they’re all trapped inside the mess hall watching OSHA training videos. I head there at lunch because I’m starving, but also because I know she’ll be there.
I walk in the back and scan the rows of bodies facing a large projection screen. More than half the guys are wearing baseball hats, so she blends in surprisingly well. I’m about to give up when movement near the back catches my attention and I spot her profile as she leans in and whispers something to the guy beside her. He chuckles quietly and shakes his head.
She presses her hands together pleadingly, but he crosses his arms over his chest then nudges his head toward the video like he wants her to be paying attention.
Interesting.
I wonder if she’s taken his wallet yet.
“This food isn’t half bad,” Hudson says, coming up to stand at my left with a full plate. We hired a catering company to provide meals for the crew during the duration of the project. It’s not gourmet dining by any stretch of the imagination, but there shouldn’t be any complaints. For lunch, they’ve prepared baked potatoes with chopped beef. Hudson has so much barbecue sauce poured over his it’s about to spill over the sides.
“Bring mine out to the site, will you?” I ask, already turning for the door. “And go easy on the sauce.”
Hudson’s job doesn’t usually involve preparing my lunch, but today it does.
I wanted to check up on Taylor and I have. I’ve confirmed she’s where she’s supposed to be, even if she’s not doing what she’s supposed to be doing: paying attention to the training videos. Out of everyone on the crew, she’s easily the least experienced when it comes to construction. She should be up in the front row taking notes, acting like a star pupil. I guess it doesn’t really matter though. She won’t be anywhere near heavy machinery starting tomorrow.
* * *
That evening, I make it back to our cabin before Taylor, though I’m not surprised. In fact, if she comes back here at all, I’ll be shocked.
I take a quick shower and change into a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt. The sun hasn’t set yet, and I owe my sister a call, so I take my phone out onto the front porch of the cabin and sit on the top stair before I dial.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” she says, unable to pull off sounding truly menacing.
I smile. “Hey. Did you get that email I forwarded yesterday?”
“Yes. It was hilarious. I sent you back an interesting article I stumbled across during our morning meeting. It’s about pandas. Seems random, but just read it. Trust me.”
I shake my head as she launches into a full summary of the article, therefore making it unnecessary for me to read it myself.
Isla is my twin sister and we’re close, mostly due to her persistence and relentless pursuit of a relationship with me. Growing up, I wanted my distance from her. I wanted my friends to be my friends and my life to be my life. Our parents didn’t think that was necessary. Whatever afterschool activity I did, Isla did too. Track, swimming, basketball—even though she doesn’t have an athletic bone in her body, not to mention she’s only 5’3”. The team photo of the JV basketball team includes a dozen girls close to six feet, and then there’s Isla standing off to the side like someone’s kid sister. I have it framed in my office back home.
By our senior year of high school, I finally realized she’s actually pretty funny and I like being around her. If she weren’t my twin sister, I’d still want to be her friend. We ended up at the same college, and even now, we hang out in the same circle of friends. Her apartment is ten minutes from my house in downtown Austin, which means she routinely shows up unannounced, but I never really mind because she usually brings beer or some kind of dessert. She bakes a lot, which is by far my favorite hobby of hers.
“This sucks that you’re in the middle of freaking nowhere,” she says, shifting gears now that she’s exhausted the panda topic. “Jace and Alice want to go get drinks tomorrow, but I don’t feel like going because you know how they get.”
“I bet they hold hands the whole time.”
She groans. “Handholding is one thing! At dinner the other night, she did this thing where she rubbed his earlobe between her fingers for like for five minutes. It was the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen. They need to get over each other already. Enough with the eternal love crap.”
I smile. Isla functions in extremes when it comes to love and relationships. If she’s in one, true love exists and we’ll all find it. If she’s just broken up with someone, love is a sham and anyone who says otherwise is a brainwashed idiot who needs to turn off the Hallmark channel.
“So Randall didn’t work out?”
“Randall.” She puffs out a breath of air. “Don’t even say his name.”
“How many dates did you guys get to? I forget.”
“Four, and then he told me he’s not really looking to put labels on anything and love isn’t binary and ‘Would it be cool if we kept this unlabeled relationship open to others?’”
I groan. “I knew he sucked. When are you going to give in and just date Tanner?”
She laughs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Does Tinder still work way out there? Maybe you’ll meet a nice country mouse.”
“The closest town is an hour and a half away. I don’t think I’ll be doing much dating.”
“You say that like you do a lot of dating when you’re in Austin.”
“I do,” I say, sounding defensive even to my own ears.
“That’s hilarious.”
“Kayley,” I say as proof, reminding her of the friend she set me up with back in the fall.
“Yes, Kayley, who you took out on two horrible dates. She said during dinner you barely looked up from your phone. Then, you called her Candace when you dropped her off, before giving her a side hug.”
I frown. “That was back in October. I was probably preoccupied with the Zilker project.”
“When are you not preoccupied with a project? Whatever. I’m not setting you up with any more of my friends. Kayley swore she wasn’t bothered that you didn’t seem that into her, but whenever I see her in the office, she bolts in the other direction. Last week, I think she hid from me in the maintenance closet.”
I rub the back of my neck.
“So what I’m saying is,” she continues, “you better sign up for Tinder and get to swipin’ cause I’m not helping you out anymore.”
It’s sad to say I haven’t felt all that inspired to date in the last few years. I’ve put myself out there—mostly due to the insistence of friends—but the routine has become a little stale. Slow, awkward first dates. Good-but-not-great sex. Nonexistent banter. It’s my fault. I’m the asshole on my phone during dinner. I’m the jerk who doesn’t call back. I’m the guy who apparently forgets his date’s name. Yikes, that’s…not good. I just don’t know how to stop myself from focusing all of my attention on work. It doesn’t help that I’ve built up this illusion in my mind, this idea that I’m just biding my time, waiting for someone to shake me out of this stupor.
Even worse, I did find that woman.
Taylor.
Our encounter last month was like a slap to the face. WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT. Look at her! Look at her sitting at the bar and realize that if you don’t crawl over broken glass to get to this woman, you will regret it for the rest of your life. So, I followed her into that bathroom, and I kissed her with an all-consuming need. Her smooth curves pressed against mine, her full lips tempting me toward insanity.
She was different, wild, beautiful. She was…stealing my wallet while I was thinking only of how I could convince her to spend the night with me.
The reminder twists my gut.
Ah yes, she was different because she was a seductive actress.
Not real.
I push to stand.
The sun is hanging low in the sky now, behind the canopy of trees. Soon, I’ll need the lantern to find my way around, but Isla drones on. Isla is always droning on. Fiery meteors could be raining down from the sky and she would want to chat about it, preferably for two hours.
“Isla,” I say, interrupting a story about her boss. “I gotta go.”
“Oh! Okay. I’ll let you know how drinks go tomorrow. Chances are I’ll be texting you vomit emojis.”
After we hang up, I head inside the cabin, turn on the lantern, and lie down on my bunk to read. It’s kind of nice being out here. My computer is back in the trailer near the jobsite where there’s power and a boosted internet connection. In the cabin, the wireless internet on my phone is slow and not worth bothering with, which means no work. I have to read, and when reading proves a poor distraction from thoughts of Taylor, I change into workout clothes and go for a run, setting a punishing pace. I like the trails around the camp, though it was stupid to run this late. By the time I make it back, it’s pitch-black outside and I’ve nearly tripped over my feet ten times.
I’m dripping with sweat when I push the door open, and my eyes immediately rove to Taylor’s bunk.
Empty.
I stomp toward the bathroom and jerk the shower knob until icy water rains down on my head. It’s my second shower of the evening, my towel still wet from the last one. I scrub my hair and arms and legs and avoid the urge to touch myself anywhere that’s not perfectly necessary. I’ve closed my eyes and stroked myself, dreaming of her, all month. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction tonight, even if she’d never know about it.
When I step back out in my lounge pants and no shirt, Taylor still isn’t back.
I worry about her walking around out here in the middle of the night, but then I remind myself that she’s not mine to worry about.
I turn off the lantern and get in bed. I’m lying on my bunk with my eyes closed, willing sleep to take me, when the cabin door creaks open. She tiptoes in on light feet like she’s trying not to wake me. I listen as she carefully takes off her boots, a soft hiss escaping her lips. I’m not surprised—they’re too big on her, and I’m sure she has blisters by now.
I open my eyes as she starts to tiptoe past the bunk, grabs something from the dresser, and then disappears into the bathroom. She doesn’t turn a light on, but she runs the sink on a gentle stream. At first, I think she’s brushing her teeth, but then I realize she must be trying to wash off without having to turn the shower on.
It’s ridiculous, these lengths she’s willing to go to.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens silently and she tiptoes toward the ladder. I thought she was going to get her things and leave, but it turns out she’s staying. Interesting.
“What’s your name, man?” I ask suddenly.
She jumps out of her skin and knocks something off the dresser—my hat, probably. She replaces it then quickly scrambles up the ladder to her bunk.
“Oh…uh, Taylor.”
She speaks so softly I can barely hear her, and I wonder if she’s worried I’ll recognize her voice. As it is, I’m surprised she gave me an honest answer, though it’s probably because the name Taylor is pretty androgynous.
“Like Taylor Swift?” I ask, wanting to tease out a little more conversation.
“Or like Taylor Lautner,” she clarifies.
“Who?”
“The werewolf from Twilight,” she mumbles, followed by a low groan.
I’m smiling now, despite myself.
“You done much construction work in the past?”
There’s a long pause here, as if she’s working through a million thoughts in her head. Then finally, she replies softly. “No.”
“What made you start now?” I ask, no longer playing a game.
I want to know why she’s here. I want to know what possessed her to dress up like a guy and interview for a job in which she’ll be hauling lumber and slogging through mud in the sweltering heat and dealing with a hundred ill-mannered men.
“It seemed like a good opportunity.”
The way she says it is final, cut and dry. Then her sheets rustle and a few moments later, her breathing evens out and I know she’s fallen asleep.
Or, she’s pretending.
Chapter 10
Taylor
First thing yesterday morning—after finding out the suit was my roommate—I realized I had two options. One, I could quit and leave immediately, run as far away from this jobsite as possible and never look back. Two, I could find Jeremy and try to convince him that instead of sleeping here during the week, we should commute back and forth every day. That way, I’d still get to keep the job, but I wouldn’t have to room with him every night.
“It just makes sense,” I said while we walked toward the mess hall for breakfast. “You probably already miss Khloe, and I really need to check on McKe
nna. You know I don’t even get cell reception out in my cabin? Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, if we leave at 4:45 every morning, we should be able to get here before…”
My words trailed off as I realized he’d stopped listening. In fact, I don’t think he paid attention to any of my argument.
I tried another tactic.
“I really don’t like my roommate. That’s why I don’t want to stay here.”
I thought my honesty would appeal to him.
“Why? Does he know you’re a woman? Is that it? Because he’s going to find out and it shouldn’t be that big of a deal—”
“It’s not that.”
I know the men here will slowly start to realize who—or rather what I am. I’m not going to great lengths to hide it. These boobs and hips don’t lie, people.
He shrugged and held the door for me. “Then why don’t you just ignore him and sleep? I’m not driving home every day. Just suck it up. You only have to be with him at night. What’s the big deal?”
The big deal is that night is the worst time to be with the man! I’m supposed to get shut-eye with him lying directly underneath me? It’s impossible. I barely slept. I was an overly caffeinated psycho by the time lunch rolled around, so I doubled down on trying to convince Jeremy to go along with my plan while we were watching the never-ending training videos.
“C’mon, 4:45 AM isn’t that early!”
My words fell on deaf ears.
I realized then that I wouldn’t be getting my way with him. We weren’t going to commute every day, so I needed to find a new place to sleep.
I found Max at dinner, or rather he found me. I was sitting outside the mess hall with Jeremy, eating a turkey sandwich when he joined us.
He flicked the brim of my hat and smiled.
“You really aren’t fooling anyone with this—you know that, right? I’ve already heard a couple guys asking about you.”
I frowned, and he must have sensed my unease because he continued, “Nothing bad though. They were just curious about why a girl would sign on for something like this. I told them to mind their own business.”