* * * *
Travis tells me to make myself at home while he showers—he’s still hot and sweaty from class. With a kiss, he pointed me to his room before heading for the bathroom. “Take a look around, if you want. I’ll be right back.”
I wait until I hear the rush of water in the shower before I glance inside his bedroom. The dresser is covered with paper—letters and magazines and receipts, change and jewelry, stuff he must’ve emptied from his pockets and dumped there. Above the dresser is a large mirror, around which pictures stick out from the frame. I move closer, looking them over. Travis mostly, and his friends—Karl and Jenny, some other staff members. I can tell by their clothing. A woman who could be his mom.
I want to know every person in these pictures, each name, what they mean to him. I want to know thispart of his life—not just the resort but everything, his home, his family, I want it all. I want to be in that life, even if we just met.