Blindness

by Ginger Scott

  “Why, thank you, sir,” I tease, but Cody only rolls his eyes, which makes me instantly feel childish and regret my decision to come. I follow the two of them inside and notice Gabe softly punch Cody on the shoulder, and Cody harshly shrugs it off. When we get to the door, Cody walks inside and lets the door fall shut on both Gabe and I, but Gabe catches it to stop it from hitting me on the side.

  “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, I’m making him uncomfortable,” I say, wrapping my arms around my stomach to hug myself and make myself small and, God willing, to rewind time.

  Gabe stops me before I walk through the door, holding his arm in my way. “Stop that, it’s not you. It’s like I said—just give my boy some slack. He doesn’t trust so well,” he says, looking me right in the eyes.

  I don’t say anything, but I take in a deep breath. I make my way into the diner to the corner booth in the back where Cody is now flipping through an endless menu. I slide in on one side and give him plenty of distance, but Gabe slides in after me, forcing me to move over more.

  Cody tosses the menu down on the table and leans back into the booth, closing his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “This place has shit food. Why do we come here?” he asks, clearly picking a fight now.

  “It doesn’t have shit food. You love the cheeseburger and pancakes, and you’re just grumpy because you’re hungry. Now knock it off, asshat,” Gabe says right back at him, not even missing a beat. If anything, I’m amused by the banter between the two of them.

  Cody notices my smile and calls me on it when I let out a stifled laugh. “What’s funny?” he asks, trying to keep his attitude up with me, but slipping just a little as I see him struggle not to curl his lip.

  “Nothing—” I start, but the more I think about the two of them, the more I laugh. “It’s just…you two are funny. I never had any of that, a friend like that? And what’s an asshat?”

  Cody stares at me for a few seconds, his gaze hooded, trying to read me, and then he visibly relaxes, flopping his hands flat on the table in front of him. “An asshat is just that—it’s a hat you wear on your ass,” he says, his tone serious.

  Gabe picks up right where he leaves off, and I turn my attention his way. “Yes. Basically, someone has to earn the right to be an asshole. Asshat is like asshole in training,” he says.

  The waitress comes up just as Gabe is finishing, and we all work to keep from laughing at what she must have heard. Gabe orders us all waters, and she leaves to get them. My stomach makes a churning sound, and I realize I’m extremely hungry. I flip through the menu to the breakfast section, and am instantly overwhelmed.

  “Oh my god. There must be like fifty items on here,” I say, honestly stressed out over having to make a decision. Cody reaches over to pull my menu toward him slightly and leans in to look with me. I tense up at his closeness and look at Gabe who smiles knowingly and pulls his menu up to give us pseudo-privacy.

  “If you’re going with breakfast, you have to get the pancakes. Trust me on this,” Cody says, turning to face me. His eyes soften when he realizes how close we are. He sucks in his top lip, and all I want to do is touch it, chase it into his mouth. He’s wearing a plain gray T-shirt and a pair of dirty jeans, with garage oil marks all over them. He’s sexy as hell, and so close to me I’m tempted to jump into his lap. But I stay put and turn my head back to the menu, feeling the force of his eyes on me the entire time—and I’m eating it up.

  “Okay, just pancakes?” I ask, looking over the options in front of me, but not reading a damn word.

  “Bacon, you probably like bacon?” he says, now turning to look at the menu with me.

  “Love bacon. Done, pancakes and bacon,” I say, closing the menu and tucking it back in the stand at the center of the table. “That’s twice you’ve helped me out today. Looks like I owe you.”

  I’m flirting now. I’m terrible at it—this I know. I’ve never really flirted before. With Trevor, he did all the talking. He asked me out, he made the first moves, and he has always been in charge.

  Trevor. I haven’t thought of him all day. I’m starting to let the guilt creep in when I feel Cody’s arm against mine briefly, and then Trevor is gone from my mind in an instant.

  “So, Charlie. What are you doing for Halloween this year?” Gabe asks.

  The thought of Halloween is always strange—handing out the candy is the toughest. Halloween was ours—Mac and me. It was the one holiday that we were always a father and a daughter. I think of that last year when we were together passing out candy. We both ate through a giant bag of candy corn, making ourselves sick. We were in horrible stomach pain, but I wouldn’t trade that memory for anything in the world.

  “Charlie?” I feel Cody’s hand on mine under the table, and I jump.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking,” I admit. Cody gives my hand a small squeeze, almost like he knows without knowing. I smile, but it falls instantly, because I know where I’ll be on Halloween—I’ll be in Washington, with Trevor.

  “I’m…out of town this weekend. Why?” I ask, hoping we don’t divert into a talk about my plans with Trevor.

  Cody’s hand slips away, and I miss it the moment it’s gone. I pull my own hands together in my lap and link them together just to hide the feeling.

  “Well, there’s this great haunted house out in the sticks. It’s a tradition. We usually go on Halloween, but we could go early. You in?” Gabe asks.

  Cody has turned his face from me, and he’s now staring at the waitress who is approaching our table. She’s cute—maybe 23 or 24, with short hair and a few tattoos running down her arm. She’s zeroing in on Cody before she gets to our table, and the instant she’s there, she slides into the booth next to him, flipping open her order book.

  “What can I get ya?” she asks, leaning into him a little and clearly offering up herself as a menu item. I can’t even hide the face I’m making, and I know Gabe sees it. He’s kind enough not to tease me, but he smiles at my jealousy.

  “Well, I don’t know. What’s good here?” Cody says, toying with her a little. He leans forward, cutting off my view so all I see is his bicep and her syrupy fake smile. I feel like I’m going to be sick, so I push into Gabe.

  “Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom. Order for me, please,” I say, almost pushing him out of my way. I rush from the table, dragging my purse with me, and head to the back of the restaurant, hoping like hell that’s where the restrooms are. Thankfully, karma is playing nice with me today, and I rush through the door marked Women’s and drop my purse on the counter next to the sink. I lean forward and look at myself closely in the mirror.

  I look ridiculous—no wonder Cody’s giving his attention to miss hot-ass waitress out there. Here I am, my hair pulled into a low ponytail, my shirt a button-up blouse, and my jeans high on my waist. I look like a soccer mom—a 21-year-old soccer mom.

  Angry, I pull my hair out of its band and tip my head over, fluffing out the crease, and letting my waves grow. I can’t do much about my outfit, but I can touch up my makeup, so I pull out my eye pencil and darken the line under my eyes. I realize I’m going to look desperate before I put on my lipstick and decide to stop there and head back out to our table.

  The waitress is gone when I come back. Gabe sees me first, and he chuckles to himself. He kicks Cody under the table to get his attention, and when he looks up at me, he does an actual double take. I’m both humiliated and pleased.

  Gabe slides out so I can slide back in, and before they both start to tease me, I make up an excuse. “My head is killing me. I can only wear the ponytail so long,” I say, rubbing my skull with my fingertips. That’s a flat-out lie, because I could wear a ponytail to my grave, but I’ll work on changing that habit now that I’ve told the story.

  Cody smiles at me, and I sense his suspicion, but he’s too nice to say anything. And I have a strange feeling Gabe’s on my side, so I don’t think he’ll tease me either. Within minutes, our food is in front of us, and we’r
e all finally occupied with eating.

  “So, haunted house?” I ask, after I’ve sucked down an entire pancake and all of the bacon. Cody was right—the pancakes were a good idea.

  “Yeah, so…we go every year. It’s this old historic farmhouse; they deck it out. It’s pretty sick. And they have one of those corn mazes. It’s a ton of fun. And you can meet my girlfriend, Jessie. We could go tomorrow night, before you leave for the weekend,” Gabe says, rushing me with information, and giving me little opportunity to say no.

  Cody’s eyes are back on me, and I feel them. The waitress is at our table, giving us our bill, but his attention this time is on me, and I feel oddly victorious. I don’t know if it’s my win over madam-slutty-waitress—she’s not really that slutty, but I hate her regardless—or if it’s the rush of Cody’s last touch on my arm, but I say, “Yes,” to Gabe without hesitation.

  “Great! How about we meet you two there? Around seven?” Gabe says, flicking his napkin at Cody to get his attention.

  “Seven works,” Cody says, looking at me for confirmation.

  “Yeah, seven. Perfect,” I say, realizing what I’ve just done. I’ve made a date—with my boyfriend’s stepbrother. Oh god!

  Chapter 8: Catch me if I fall

  Gabe and Cody both dropped me off at my car after the diner, and by the time I got home, I had one missed call from Trevor. He was already gone by the time I called him back, “Out with the Sumners,” he said. In my message, I told him I had been at tutoring and just ate dinner on campus since his parents are never really here for a formal dinner.

  Trevor didn’t call me back until the morning, and when he did, our conversation was short and sweet—which left me little time to spin lies. Trevor’s excited about my trip, and part of me is, too. But not as excited as I am to go to a haunted house with Cody. I’ve turned into a junior-high girl, and I can’t seem to stop the onslaught of bad decisions I’m making. I’m an addict.

  In full-on withdrawals, I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom, my hair wrapped in one towel, and my body wrapped in another. I felt like a child yesterday at the restaurant when that waitress caught Cody’s attention, and I want to make a statement tonight—but what that statement is I have no idea.

  I don’t really have a style. I’m vanilla—plain, blank…a canvas. I know how to put on make up, but I always seem to turn out looking like I’m ready for a graduate exam or an interview. I sift through my closet, which is full of blazers and blouses and tailored pants. During my internship, I work in a drafting studio at a high-top desk most of the day—my look, the only one I seem to have, revolves completely around this one small fact of my life.

  I’m almost sad that I’m so void of color and identity, but I’m not even aware enough to be sad. I step out into my room and slide open the iPad for inspiration, going to some of the popular fashion websites. I blow past the pictures of pencil skirts and heels—I’m going to be walking through corn, so I need to be practical at some level. I land on the celebrity pages, and then it hits me.

  I rush to my dresser and pull out black leggings and slide them up my legs. I drop the towels from my head and body and walk to my closet. Flipping through the hangars almost manically, I finally spot the gray sweater hanging sideways, half folded, on a wooden hanger in the back. I slip it on, and follow it up with my warm Ugg boots.

  The neckline is low enough that you can sometimes get a glimpse of the lacy black bra I wear underneath. It’s a risk, but I feel up to the dare tonight. I dry my hair and tip the ends with a curling iron so my golden-brown locks are soft against the dark gray of my top. I go heavy on the eye shadow, and keep my lips simple with a little gloss. And when I back away, I’m almost stunned by what I see in the mirror.

  I look hot—and I somehow pulled this off all on my own!

  I’m smirking at my reflection when I hear a slight tapping on my bedroom door. My eyes shoot wide at the sound, and I’m dashing about the room, tossing towels and ugly clothing into the closet on the floor—like I’m hiding the evidence.

  Cody’s back is turned when I finally open the door. I bite my lip, nervously anticipating his reaction—hoping he has one.

  “Hey, so, do you mind if we take your car? My truck’s—” he freezes mid sentence, his eyes roaming the full scope of my body—literally head to toe. “Holy…”

  I can’t help the smile on my face. Even though my cheeks feel like they’re about to pop from emitting so much heat, I love the attention. “Is this…okay?” I ask, stretching out my leg to show off my boots. “I wasn’t really sure what to wear. I’ve never been to anything like this.”

  Cody just continues to stare, no blinking, no breathing, only his eyes falling once again down the length of my body. I try to mask it as best I can, but I let myself take him in now. He’s wearing black jeans with a pair of purple DC’s. His shirt is a dark gray thermal that he has pulled over a white T. He actually styled his hair into a low hawk, and the closer I step to him, the more I take in his smell—it’s a wooded scent with a hint of orange, and I feel like I’m drunk; it’s so delicious.

  I close my door and raise my eyebrows at Cody, now trying to prompt him to speak, but also loving the fact that I’ve stunned him speechless—suddenly my torturous preparation for this evening feels well worth the trouble. “You were saying?” I say.

  His swallow is noticeable, and he licks his lips slightly before he talks. He starts to laugh a little, and looks down at his feet, rubbing his hand along his neck before meeting my eyes again. “Yeah, not gonna lie—I was totally checking you out just now. You…well,” he’s stammering, “you just…you look hot, okay? There, I said it. You look hot.”

  He’s sucking in his lips tightly, trying not to show me all his cards, clearly embarrassed. Not wanting to scare him off, I let him off the hook. “Thanks,” I say, taking my turn to look down at my feet. I owe him one for what he’s just given me. “You look pretty hot yourself,” I say, biting my lip when I turn back to him.

  His eyes flash with that familiar fire, and then his grin spreads. He holds out an arm for me to take, almost as if he’s leading me into the debutante’s ball rather than taking me out to some old barn and a cornfield that’s probably plagued with mice. He guides me down the stairs and is even with me, step-for-step. His walking seems to be stronger tonight, his limp barely noticeable.

  We get to the front door, and he holds it open for me while I walk out. The cold air blasts me in the face instantly. Cody notices my shiver, and his arm is around me tightly again, pulling me into his body even more.

  “So, I was saying we need to take your car. My truck’s in need of some new brakes, and I don’t want to get us in any trouble on the country roads,” he says.

  “Oh, sure. No problem,” I respond, reaching into my purse to hand Cody my keys. He takes them in his hand and squeezes them, like he’s surprised that I would trust him with this so quickly. Truth is, I probably trust him more than anyone in my life—and that’s part of the problem.

  Cody runs to the door and opens it to let me in. Once I’m inside, he dashes around the front to the driver’s side and turns the engine over to get the heat going, but he quickly jumps back out. “Be right back,” he says, shutting the door.

  I watch him run, almost smoothly, up the drive to his steps. He’s back in seconds with a black leather jacket, and as soon as he gets back in the car, he drapes it over my lap. I pinch my brow a little, not sure what he means. Are my legs too exposed? Is the sweater too short?

  “Cold. You looked cold. I wanted to make sure you were warm enough tonight, so I thought you could use my jacket,” he says, shrugging it off, and looking back to the front while he shifts the car into drive.

  I look down at his jacket and start to feel it, thinking about all of the times Cody’s worn it—how much of his life has been lived in this jacket, before I knew him. It’s soft, and when I tuck my hands into the sleeves to feel the warmth, it’s comforting and smooth. I pull it up my lap to m
y chest, pretending that I’m using it to warm up when all I really want to do is smell it. Once I do, I’m flooded with memories of the night I spent in Cody’s arms—it smells just like him, like his room, his shop, and everything about him. I think he may have a hard time getting it back.

  The car ride to the haunted house is long and quiet. Cody and Gabe mentioned it was on the other side of town, but it’s actually on the outskirts of the other side of town, in Kent. The entire trip takes about 30 minutes; most of the ride is dark, and along a road I’ve never been on. I keep glancing at Cody, trying to find a conversation starter, but I can’t seem to get the nerve. The quiet isn’t helping, either, giving me time to think about my upcoming trip to Washington, and my relationship with Trevor.

  Two months ago, I was stashing away wedding magazines, and pining after a proposal. But suddenly I find myself hoping like hell it doesn’t come. All I want now is time. Even if the responsible thing to do is to stay with Trevor, to finish out this thing that I once thought was such a fairytale—I want these few stolen moments of what if. I’ve never had doubts, but then again, I’ve never felt temptation.

  I’ve never really felt.

  We pull up to the large dirt lot packed with cars and spotlights powered by loud generators, and I’m chewing my fingernails raw with worry. Cody turns the motor off and holds the keys up for me. “Want me to hang onto them?” he says, a nervous smile playing out on his face.

  “Yeah. Thanks,” I say. The confidence I was filled with when he first saw me was drained during the stressful ride over here. Too much time to think, time to think about all I’m risking. I’m suddenly afraid; this diversion I’m on, this journey, is dangerous and a bad idea. I’m almost thinking of excuses to end the evening early.

  Then I feel him.