Soon cars will come.
His laugh is small—or just most of it whipped away by the wind. “You alright?”
I step to the pavement too quick, his hand sliding off like a line cut loose. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine.”
A car approaches and he strides back to my side of the footpath. His eyes flick over me. “Didn’t see you.”
“I’ve perfected the art then,” I blurt.
And wince. The truth flips and lands between us with a thud.
Trent accepts it with a soft half smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not my favourite magic trick.”
The street’s suddenly too narrow. The smell of wet asphalt too sharp.
I edge sideways, angling for escape, but he shifts the same way. Not blocking. Just there.
“Grandpa asked if you’re coming by tonight.”
“I’ve got work.”
“You’ve sure been busy.”
Something flickers through his voice, tired warmth.
He rubs the back of his neck, looks away, then back. His lips part to say something and I jolt.
“I’ve got to go!”
He tilts his head, that same look that’s read too much of me already.
The worst part is, the look’s not even angry. Just understanding.
And that’s too much.
So I laugh and slip past him while he tries catching my sleeve on his fingertips. For a breath, the fabric holds between us, stretched.
Then it snaps free.
I jog.
He lets me go.
But when I glance back once—stupidly, helplessly—he’s still standing there, watching me flutter like I’m something the wind snatched from him.
I don’t expect Trent to follow after that. But he does.
Something in my looking back snapped something in him. He’s had enough of my disappearing acts. He’s calling me out, standing right there in the upstairs studio doorway. Not forcing his way in. Not leaving, either.
He’s wearing turquoise. I didn’t notice before. It’s too bright for such a windy, grey day. It looks rather like the sea under brilliant, tropical sun.
Sun that’s as hot as my face.
Ha. Maybe this violent flush is the reason for that colour.
Trent shifts his weight from his left foot to his right. I know this because I can’t bring myself to look up.
But then, evenifmy eyes were shut, I’d notice the movement. Every part of me feels it: the brush of it in the air, the ripple his presence wakes across my skin.
