Chapter Thirteen

I took the bus downtown, all alone. I alighted at the right bus stop, according to instructions, and I wasn't afraid of getting lost. I walked boldly for a few blocks amidst tall office buildings, through a crowd of well-dressed people as they hurried from their jobs during lunchtime in an agitated buzz of daily repetition that I couldn't wait to experience. For now, I was glad just to experience it and succeed in finding my way around them, holding my head high as if I was no different and feeling strangely accountable, strangely independent for it… as if I belonged. I was a grown-up running errands too, a breath of fresh air in contrast to last night's childish fears, and a much-needed boost to my self-confidence: if I could pull this off – and I would! – I'd certainly undo the unfortunate impression of last night, and I'd prove myself again.

Having changed from fretful cowardice into this new mood, I walked in confidently into the hotel lobby, right past the reception and up the steps, no questions asked. I walked straight to the floor printed on the key, unlocked the door, found the bag where he said it would be, seized it… Then I took my time looking around his room.

I was rather surprised at how organized it was, how little populated with personal things. A few paper sheets neatly placed on a wooden desk - receipts and obscure notes only -, a pair of boots resting by the foot of his bed… If it weren't for those, I'd be able to swear no one had checked in that room yet. But his perfume was on the white sheets. I ran my finger through the edge of the bed, picturing what kind of life he had been living there… then I grabbed the bag and left.

I now squeezed it, testing my own control over curiosity in the backseat as the cab took its sweet time stuck in the afternoon traffic jam. I could pride myself in being a good girl when it came to Chris – that I'd never do anything to cross him – but I couldn't deny being curious enough to feel for the bag hoping to understand what contents comprised it. I'd have opened it and died with that secret, if he didn't specifically say he would know if I looked. I convinced myself he must have some sort of photosensitive equipment I could damage if exposed to light, so deciding against it became easier.

When the cab finally arrived at my address, the sun was setting in the distance, the pavement was wet, the rows of cars parked on both sides of the street glistened with tiny droplets of a rain I wasn't there to see. The cab missed my house by a few meters, and since that was a one-way street on rush hour, there was no going reverse. So I got out where I was, and struggled to balance the duffle bag on one feeble shoulder as I paid the man.

I kicked the cab door shut and wobbled from one side to the other, before recovering the balance to walk. A cop in full uniform leaned against a light post on the sidewalk and watched me struggle about. I couldn't help but stare with what probably was the most suspicious attitude I had ever entertained. He held the brim of his cap and nodded at me, a sober and mute greeting. I nodded back, as apprehensive as if I'd seen a ghost, and continued on my way as he watched me walk the distance to my house. When he saw me ascend the steps and fumble for the keys, he stood up straight and stared, his lips parting as if he'd say something from the distance… but I turned the key and entered quickly, and he leaned back on the post, as if musing.

I closed the door behind me, filled with apprehension, and waited there for a while… but he didn't come after me. Once assured of that, I dropped the heavy load on the bottom of the stairs and ran up to greet Chris.

Chris stood there, spacing out, it seems, in the center of the room again. Some changes had been made, there were a couple of marks on the wall – I figured he studied the lining, or maybe the insulation; some way to make it comfier. Whatever modifications he meant to do, each sign of them gaze me a happy thrill: if he didn't plan on staying long, he wouldn't be bothering himself with them.

Finally having most of my anxieties put to rest, I sighed, more tired than I realized, and Chris turned, surprised to notice me.

Still, he greeted me cheerfully again, like his old self, and it warmed my heart even further:

"Heey!" he sung amicably, walking up to me and greeting me at the corridor.

I made a point of not escaping his stare this time, of receiving his glaring blue eyes even though they stung me into painful shyness: I wanted him to read it there, that I had nothing to hide. I knew that's what he sought.

"So…" he cocked me a teasing, sideways smirk. "Did you do as I told you?"

"I did!" I said boldly, before blushing.

"Well, I don't believe you…" he moaned, climbing down the stairs and returning shortly with the bag around his shoulder.

"Why not?" I took the bait, invited in his teasing remarks, already warming up to the familiarity in them.

"Nothing personal: I just can't trust a little punk like you!"

"Hey!!" I playfully protested.

The bag produced a series of metallic clanks as he dropped it on the floor.

"You did then? Are you sure?" By the bye, he looked pleased. Content. Trusting. The contrast made me lose my bearing and chuckle nervously.

"Ah, there it is!" He denounced "You trick me. I'm going to have to punish you, aren't I?"

I looked down at the floor to blush unobserved, and pulled my hair behind my ear. Chris twisted his lips, failing to hold a smile from stretching as his eyes captured my every reaction. "Huh…Too bad…" he remarked inwardly, having scrutinized me for the truth.

A throb reached me then: that strange pull that sometimes mingled with fear. I half knew what it meant, I half wanted to address it now… To try. My breathing picked up.

But Chris crouched down on one knee upon his load. He pulled the bag underneath his legs and turned it around, searching for the zipper. I stared from the doorframe, expectant.

Chris turned his amused eyes toward me:

"Madam… may I help you?" he mocked, failing to hide a cunning smile.

"Well, uh…" I slid my finger across the sleek wood of the doorframe, bit my lip… all under his unyielding inspection "just… just wondering…" I shrugged. "What's in the bag, after all?" I cleared my throat, put my hands around my hips and took an unassuming step inside the empty room, hoping my seeming casualty would do the trick.

"You just have to know, don't you?" Chris chuckled deliciously "Well…" he looked at the bag, sighed, mused, then turned his gaze back towards me. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I laughed. We laughed. Then we stared.

"You know what?" He sighed, slapping the bag and standing up again. "I'm rather thirsty. If you'd be so nice as to offer me a refreshment, I would love a cold beer right now!"

He stood close, watching my face, his lips twisting, struggling to conceal that flirty, carefree smile that made my stomach swirl. I could only smile embarrassedly when I stood under his shadow as I did now…

"I think we're out of those."

"Huh! Did you drink them all? What a little punk! I think you're gonna need an intervention!" He placed his arm on the threshold and leaned closer. I blushed and chuckled, moving my head from one side to the other in mock reprobation, my cheeks tingling.

"No? Well, I must have gotten carried away. You did make me things a little…" a long, thoughtful pause "Anyway." He stretched his smile, the one that said he took pleasure in embarrassing me "It would be kind of you to get a refill. My treat, of course."

"You know I can't buy that…" I scoffed, rolling my eyes playfully as he sifted his pockets for his wallet.

…but his brow changed suddenly. It turned into a frown, stealing my smile away:

"Why not?"

"Why?! Well, because I…" I rushed to explain, taken by a sense of urgency, but then it occurred to me and my heart froze with apprehension: had I just outed myself?!

Chris's stare became inquisitive, intimidating. It chased me down as I paced backwards.

"I mean… I…"

He wouldn't give me space. And why did I need space anyway? I just needed to think of something – fast!

"Sorry!" first, I smiled nervously "Duh! Of course I can!" then, I slapped my own forehead "After all, I… I'm 17! I forget, you know!!"

"You forget?"

"Yeah, I er… I turned recently!" I shrugged.

"Right…" His frown didn't ease. Nor did his intimidating stance.

"Anyway, I'll… I'll be right back." I bolted, running down the stairs as fast as I could for a quick breath.

Having breathed and recomposed enough of my senses, I searched the fridge for any beer put there by the heavens itself. None. 'I'm Fucked!'

Whatever I was going to do now, I had to leave the house. I loitered a while, picked up the key, walked to the door, lingered… hesitated… And when I finally glanced upstairs, a brand-new fright: Chris stood there, surrounded by the blueish shadow of the unlit corridor, watching me with annoyed suspicion. I gasped loudly.

"What's the matter with you?" He inquired – his face nearly unfathomable.

"N-nothing!" I pronounced quickly. Too quickly.

"Come here. You've forgotten the money."

"Oh… Right." I breathed. "Actually… T-that's okay, I've still got some change left."

"Not enough!" He shook his head impatiently, sentencing me. "Come here!"

And he watched from his dark superiority, not hiding his suspicion, not hiding the angry frown marking his broad, handsome face. I knew I had to go, yet it felt like trouble: my body knew it, and it was hard to move. Why? Because I might have blown it… because he would confront me, look me in the eye, perhaps expose me… and then it would all be over: this whole dream, this strange game I was playing, too good to be true.

Still, he waited. His angry eyes beckoning me. I willed my knees to move.

And as I approached him, slowly climbing the steps, for a split second the darkness made things confusing, and it felt like dangerous. For a brief moment, I experienced fear. Of him. Of his eyes. I stood before him, my breathing picking up as he scrutinized me.

"Here…" He spoke before averting his gaze to execute his intention – they still investigated relentlessly for a long second "…Buy yourself something as well."

I nodded, my voice too weak to protest the amount.

Before I hurried down the steps again, however, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. I instinctively struggled against his grip for a second, before realizing it was helpless – and suspicious. He held me firmly, strangely, then silently he let go, having read something in my eyes. I stormed out of the house as if I'd seen a ghost.