by K. S. Thomas
“I could get past the pretty thing,” she says, eyes wandering past the side of my head, giving me that foreboding feeling of a ‘but’ looming. “But...”
And there it is. “But what?”
Her eyes come back to meet mine. They’re no longer bursting with sass, they’re serious. Almost sad even. “But you’re Bodhi James.”
“And you’re Lilan Rossi. I don’t see how our names play into this.”
The light changes and she sighs, putting her foot gently on the gas again. “You know what I mean, Bodhi.”
I frown. “I don’t think I do.”
“To you, this is just harmless holiday flirting. You’re here on vacation. Maybe even escaping whatever craziness your fame fills your life with back home. But, this isn’t your real life. I’m not someone you’re really going to end up with.”
“You don’t know that,” I insist, determined not to see her end this before we ever even have a chance to start it. “We’ve only known each other for two days. How can you make a judgement call this big when the time we’ve shared is so small?”
“Because,” she says, fists wrapped tightly around the wheel. “I have to. I don’t have the luxury of taking a chance here, Bodhi. I have to be smart. Realistic. Because this is my real life. And I have to think of Mona.”
It’s bullshit. And I have half a mind to call her out on it. But I don’t. Because Lilan isn’t the only one who’s been getting an earful from Hannah all these years. And the things I know about her, the history I can suddenly see so clearly is still present for her, it’s enough to make me think better of it.
CHAPTER NINE
LILAN
The banter I was so thoroughly enjoying, is dead. I killed it, I ought to know. In the moment, it seemed so necessary, now after thirty minutes of complete silence with an hour of driving still ahead of us, it seems like maybe the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Or, at least, one of the top ten dumbest things I’ve ever done.
“So...” I start awkwardly, determined to undo at least partial damage in hopes of salvaging enough of our budding friendship to give today half a chance at being a fun outing. “Are you the sort of guy who will deny a girl tea on principle? And, you could. You’ve got principle on your side here.” I try my best at a wry but endearing smile. “Or are you the sort with unbounding kindness in his heart who shares with the needy even when they don’t deserve it?”
“Are you the needy in this ridiculous analogy?” he asks dryly.
“If I say that it’s Jax, will that improve my chances of seeing a hot thermos of tea come my way?”
“No.” He folds his arms in his lap, like he’s closing up tea shop. “He gets carsick.”
Wait. What?
Then, he smiles, unfolding his arms ever so slightly and turning to look at me. “Lilan, if you want tea, just ask.”
I have every intention of asking, but instead of saying the words, I purse my lips and twitch my mouth back and forth. Who knew asking would be so hard?
“Wow.” And, he noticed. “You need more practice asking for things.”
“I just happen to prefer doing things myself. That way I know they’re done the way I like them.”
“So...no tea?” he taunts, his amber eyes flashing. I hate how mesmerizing he is to look at. I hate even more that he’s not an arrogant asshat. And how much I genuinely enjoy his company. Even when he’s being so blunt about my shortcomings. Or maybe because he is. Because he’s paying close enough attention to notice them to begin with.
“Bodhi.” I sigh, beckoning surrender from the depths of my stubborn soul. “May I please have a hot tea from your magic backpack?”
He grins broadly, showing off a set of pearly white and perfectly straight teeth, reminding me instantly of the way my top left canine pokes out a bit, thus adding yet another detail to the vast contrast between us. But, I push it from my mind as soon as he says the magic words, “Of course. I’d love to fix you some tea. How do you like it? Honey?”
“Honey would be amazing, thank you.” I try to peek at his stash of tea while he unloads all the supplies her brought into his lap. “Oh, can I try that holiday ginger spice blend?”
“Look at you! Your asking skills are already improving,” he mocks. “If I tell you I brought a small canister of almond milk, would you ask for some of that, too?”
My eyes widen and I turn all my attention to the front and the road before me just to hide how impressed I am. “Would I have to ask?”
He laughs softly, and I can hear him tinkering away with his supplies. “Only because you need the practice.”
“Fine,” I grumble, but only to cover my amusement. “May I please have almond milk and honey in my ginger spice tea?”
“Absolutely.” He opens the carton of delicate tea sachets. “Actually, that sounds perfect. I think I’m going to follow your lead and do the same. You being the tea connoisseur and all, it just seems wise.”
I arch a brow at him curiously. “How often do you drink tea, exactly?”
“Never.” He looks up from his efforts to face me. “I’m all about the coffee, all the time.”
I laugh, surprised at the admission. “Then why didn’t you bring yourself a coffee?”
He shrugs. “Had some this morning already. Besides, I like trying new things. And, I guess I thought it would be nice to share something with you that I knew you enjoyed so much.”
The laugh catches in my throat and I’m suddenly confronted with the same intense urge I had earlier to shut him down and make him hate me, or at the very least, make him indifferent.
“You’re doing it again,” I mumble.
“Lilan,” he says, paying an excessive amount of attention to the simple act of holding two thermos bottles in his lap while the tea bags sit inside them, steeping and requiring literally no action or attention from him. “You’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with it.”
Well, then. I’m not exactly used to hearing that from men. Usually just reminding them of my parental status does the trick to cure them of their attempts at flirting first go around.
“Why?” I ask. Because if he’s going to insist on being all-out wonderful all the goddamn time, I’m going to need to know what’s motivating him.
“Why what?” He frowns, apparently confused by my inquiry.
“Why me? Why do I have to suck it up and deal with your charm and generosity?”
He lets out a stumped laugh. “Because you don’t know how to do it any other way?”
I groan, frustration rearing its noisy head. “No, not why am I processing your charm and generosity so unwillingly. Why am I being forced to endure them at all?”
“Fuck if I know! You’re certainly not the nicest woman I’ve ever shared a ride with.” He places one thermos in the cupholder and proceeds to fish the tea sachet from the other while holding it steady between his knees. “Look, I don’t know why I enjoy your company so much, but for some inexplicable reason, I do. Probably, because you have a kickass sense of humor even when you’re busy trying to bust my balls for implying I could potentially find you attractive or likeable in any way. Possibly, because you’re pretty impressive with a drill in your hand. And maybe, because you make magic in the kitchen and it comes out in the form of bread, which I could probably gorge myself to death on with no regrets. It couldn’t be, of course, the soft spot you have for an old three-legged dog and it’s most definitely not the way you put your daughter above all else – because those are both lame,” he ends his rant with a smirk and an obnoxious but stupid-sexy wink, before he lets out a sigh. “Plus, you’re kind of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Not that I’m into that sort of thing either.” He grimaces. “Did any of that answer your question?”
“It certainly cured me from ever asking you another one,” I wheeze. No amount of clearing my throat is going to dislodge the panic he just put there.
“Lilan,” he starts again, and frankly, I’m not sure I can handle any more
words coming out of his mouth. “I get that I’m totally inconveniencing you and your very neatly organized life by showing up and expressing an interest in being a part of said neat and organized life. So, here’s my proposal.”
“Oh, God! Proposal? Really? That’s the word you’re going with?”
“Offer? Proposition?” he throws a few alternatives my way before he goes on, “whatever you want to call it – here’s what it is.” He pauses. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Yeah, I think I got that.” He chuckles and it’s almost infuriating how willing he is to override my unfounded and irrational fears regarding his interest in me. “Lilan, the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. If you can just accept that I like you and that I am a reasonably decent human being who occasionally enjoys showing kindness and consideration to others in the form of hot beverages and dog treats, then I promise to fully accept that you don’t return my feelings and have absolutely no interest in exploring our relationship beyond what may become a lovely friendship.”
And there it is. The reason he’s not infuriating, glaring me right in the face. I do return his feelings. I just really, really don’t want to.
“Friends.” I nod, pressing my lips together tightly, just to keep from amending my commitment to his terms.
“Good.” He smiles, handing me a thermos. “Here. And don’t tell me how it is. Because we’re just friends and my investment in your pleasure has met its limit.” He grins.
I’m starting to understand how completely screwed I am. He just played me. Showed me how completely wonderful he is and then basically said I couldn’t have it. Or him. Or any of this.
That’s it. I need a distraction. And this tea isn’t doing it. Because it’s heaven in a thermos and he made it perfectly. Stupid Bodhi James. And his stupid tea. And stupid Hannah for being friends with him in the first place.
Wait.
Hannah.
“Speaking of people who are just friends.”
His ears perk up and I think maybe he’s expecting me to ramble on about us and how I probably have a crush on him I’ll never recover from but won’t admit to because we’re just friends, but I only do that sort of thing inside my head, so that’s not what I’m about to say. “I was thinking maybe you were wrong about Hannah and your brother being all wrong for each other.”
He’s on the verge of sipping his own tea for the first time since making it and stops short. “What? Why?”
“Just got the impression there was more to their little game than the amusement she gets out of pretending to hate every attempt he makes to hit on her. Trust me, I know Hannah. And not the guy bestie version you’re familiar with. I know the girly side. The part of her that likes boys, gets stupid giddy over them even, but which never gets to see the light of day, because boys are there...in the light of day. And she can’t be vulnerable like that.” Truth be told, that inability to let our guard down around the rest of the world has brought the three of us closer than ever in the last few years. Even Kaleaha, who technically has chosen to be all open and share her heart and soul and all, has had to put on a good face, be the strong one. At least to the rest of the world.
“Even if that were true,” Bodhi starts, and I can hear from his tone that the if is especially iffy in his mind. “You don’t know Teran. He’s my brother and I love him, but the guy has no sense of follow through. Sure, he’s fully committed to getting Hannah, but I can guarantee you, he won’t make near the same effort to keep her. Should he ever be so lucky.”
I can’t argue the fact I don’t know the guy. I don’t even really know Bodhi. I just feel like I do because I’ve heard about him for years. Plus, the fact he’s a public figure certainly adds to this weird level of familiarity. But, there was something so genuine about Teran last night. I just can’t write him off as easily as Bodhi would like me to. Not to mention, I’m finding Hannah’s love life to be a great deal more in my control than my own right now.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say lightly, recommitting my attention to the road and the road alone. I’ve been doing way too much of this drive on autopilot.
“As long as not agreeing also entails no meddling,” Bodhi says. It’s a little eerie how well he can read me. Unless he’s just guessing. Making assumptions I could easily deny.
Provided I wanted to.
“I will meddle to my heart’s content. Hannah is my friend, and if I want to push her into the open arms of your stud brother, that’s my prerogative.”
“Hannah is my friend too,” he argues. “I don’t see why your opinion regarding their match-ability ranks higher than mine.”
“You think you know Hannah as well as I do?” I hold in the laugh dying to escape at his suggestion.
“We spent nearly every waking minute together in college. Those are serious growth years. Yeah, I’d say I know her pretty damn well.”
“Prove it.”
“Fine.” I can feel him staring at the side of my head. “How?”
“We each come up with ten questions we’re certain we know the answer to – so twenty questions total. Since I’m driving, you’ll have to write them all down, plus both our answers. Then, when we get to the cabin, Hannah can check our answers and tell us who got the most right.”
He nods. “Deal.”
“And,” I add loudly, “Winner gets to choose how to proceed with the Hannah – Teran situation and loser has to fully support winner in said choice.”
“Works for me.” He gets his phone out of his pocket and starts messing with the screen. “Better start thinking about letting your matchmaking skills die, because I’m totally going to kick your ass in this who knows Hannah best game.”
“Dream on, pretty boy. You think the college years were growth years? I was there for puberty.” I make my most triumphant face at him. “That’s right. We synced periods and everything.”
He looks temporarily thwarted, but recovers quickly, “I’ll see your periods and raise you all-nighters at the library surviving on nothing but energy drinks. You haven’t been in the trenches with someone until they’re delirious from overdosing on caffeine, lack of sleep and starvation.”
“Oh, please. That was every weekend of senior year for us. Minus the library. We had to do our studying at home. With the noisy backdrop of fussy parents and annoying siblings to really strengthen our focusing skills and test our patience. While delirious”
His face changes, turning all together serious. “Alright. Enough trash talking. Let’s do this thing.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
Bodhi
“WE’RE HERE,” LILAN announces, “Pick an answer or you’re getting an incomplete.”
“Hold on!” I’m torn. I have to name Hannah’s favorite cheese – something I consider a bit of a trick question given Hannah’s a cheese fanatic and has yet to meet a cheese she didn’t love, but Lilan seems to think there’s one special cheese to top all cheeses, so here I am, digging through the memory bank and trying to force something cheese related to surface. I’ve got nothing. And I’m out of time. So, I do what I’ve always done when stuck in a moment of indecisiveness, I squeeze my eyes shut, count to three, and write down the first thing that comes to mind. In this case, Muenster. ‘There. Done.”
“About time.” She rolls her eyes, shifting into park.
It’s the first I’m looking out the window in what feels like forever. “Wow. This is the cabin?” It looks more like a small resort. Made entirely of logs, roof covered in thick blankets of crisp, white snow and framed with icicles all the way around. It’s stunning.
“You do know Hannah’s dad was an Olympic Ski Champion, yes?’
I frown. “Hannah never talks about her dad. I just assumed it was because of the abusive asshole thing and I didn’t want to pry.”
She smirks. “I’m so winning this little contest between us.” She takes the keys from the ignition and tosses them into her purse, sitting in the center console
. “You seriously didn’t think it was weird we were going to her dad’s cabin, while also thinking her dad was the controlling prick who essentially broke her mother?”
“Weird? Sure,” I admit, a bit flustered by this unexpected twist in Hannah’s life. “But family dynamics are weird. Especially the unhealthy ones. I would know. I was fourteen when I found out my mom was really my aunt and my much younger, much more prone to being arrested aunt, was my mother. She’s been in jail more than she’s been a part of my life, but I still show up for visiting hours on holidays.”
Her eyes narrow and dart over at me skeptically several times. “No way you’re that damaged.”
“Yes, way. Way damaged,” I insist, which feels like a strange thing to insist upon. Usually, the damage is swept under the rug and hidden in shadows, never to be spoken about or acknowledged under any circumstances. At least that’s how my family gets down with damage. Deny. All the way. “But back to Hannah. And all the things I apparently don’t know about her dad.”
She doesn’t seem as interested in switching back to the original topic, but after a second, she obliges me. Possibly only to prove how she knows something about Hannah I don’t, but I’m trying not to get hung up on her motivations right now.
“Hannah’s parents were never married. They met one summer when he was here visiting family, had a brilliant summer fling, made Hannah, and then parted ways as friends who were forever bonded by the blending of their DNA.”
“So, her dad isn’t a dick?”
“Her dad is not,” she confirms. “He’s actually pretty awesome, and likely the only reason she’s not a total manhating penis-phobe.”
“Huh.” I reach for the handle and open the door. “And this is like, public knowledge?” Because I’d somehow prefer to think that Lilan just betrayed Hannah’s trust and unveiled one of her deepest, darkest secrets. I don’t know Lilan that well yet, and even considering my obnoxiously strong attraction to her, discovering she’s a gossip who can’t be trusted would still be easier to swallow than accepting I was either too self-involved or Hannah was too distant, for her to bother sharing the basics of her family tree with me. Which, I foolishly thought I already knew.