“Yeah, just give me a sec. I have to go to the restroom first,” I say, walking backward toward the small hallway behind me.

Jessie starts asking Trevor questions, and I notice him pick up her paper and start to look through it, buying me time. I wind around the corner to the small bathrooms behind the garage. The space is tight, but the restrooms are surprisingly clean for a place run by men. I don’t really have to go. If anything, I’m probably dehydrated; I haven’t had anything to drink since my failed coffee attempt this morning. I just needed an escape.

I splash water on my face at the sink and let the warm water heat my hands for a minute or two. Another deep breath, and I feel ready to move on to what’s next—whatever that is.

I’m looking around the hall for a trash to throw my towel into when I feel Cody’s hand wrap around my wrist. He’s grabbing it tightly; on reflex, I start to jerk and pull away.

“Charlie, stop. I just want to talk…just for a minute,” he says, his voice a rough whisper.

He has me pinned in the corner, and I’m looking beyond him, worried that Trevor is seeing this. But we’re alone; I can still hear Jessie’s laugh in the distance, and I know she saw Cody follow me. She’ll distract him as long as we need.

“Charlie, I’m sorry,” Cody says, his eyes soft, sorrowful. He’s still holding my wrist, but I’ve completely relaxed it. I feel his hand slide softly around it until his fingers find mine, and he grabs onto them, pulling my hand up to his mouth. I’m watching with my lips parted open, knowing how wrong this all is, but fantasizing about forgiving him, kissing him, having him carry me off so he can strip me naked and take me.

“Cody, I…,” I try, but my voice is raspy. Cody closes his eyes tightly when I speak, shutting me out.

“Please. You have to forgive me…I didn’t mean it, not a word of it. I was angry, and I was thinking about that stupid ring…the one you never wear…” he’s struggling, trying to find a way to explain. “God, Charlie. I didn’t mean what I said. You’re not a…gah! I can’t even say it now, looking at your goddamned face. Your face, like an angel, and I lied to you—I looked right at you and called you that, when it’s the furthest thing from what I think. Just…forgive me. Please?”

I can’t look away, my heart is leaping from my body, and my mouth is numb, craving him. All I can do is nod yes slowly, and when I do, he pulls me to him and holds me tightly. I feel his lips at my neck over my hair, his breath hot and ragged. “I’m so sorry,” he says, squeezing my hair in between his fingers, holding my head to his chest, and gripping me as if he’s afraid I’m going to run away.

If I could stay here, just like this, forever, I would. But Trevor’s laugh brings me back to reality, and I push myself from his arms, looking down.

“Trevor,” I say. “He’s waiting for me.”

“Right, Trevor,” Cody murmurs, no longer able to bring his eyes to mine. He’s looking at the wall where I just stood. “You better go.”

I can’t even say goodbye, and instead just leave him there alone, in the dim hallway behind his shop. I stuff everything I’m feeling down into the lockbox I keep in my heart—the one I open up late at night, the reason I’m not sleeping. By the time I round the corner and come face-to-face with Trevor, I’ve mastered my pretend smile again, but Jessie can see right through it. I wave goodbye while Trevor leads me back out to the car, and she shakes her head at me, a little disappointed, I can tell.

Trevor’s anxious in the car. He keeps tapping his hand on the steering wheel nervously. I sort of wish I didn’t let him drive, because I’m feeling a little carsick from his constant speed change. He doesn’t look upset, but I can’t help but think he heard Cody and me talking—or picked up on something, my mood, perhaps. I reach over to squeeze his hand as a test, and he squeezes back quickly with a smile, and puts his hands back on the wheel—I’m not really sure what to take away from that.

He rushes ahead of me after we park the car, making sure he’s the first one through the door. He doesn’t wait to hang his coat or bring in his bag, but instead rushes to the bedroom upstairs. I’m a few steps behind him, and he comes back out of our room and shuts the door, pressing his back against it.

“Trevor, what is going on?” I ask, a little wary about what he’s hiding.

“I wasn’t sure if they’d come today, but they did. I’m so excited. I got you something, sort of an early Christmas gift. Are you ready?” he says, biting his lip and trying to contain his smile. I’m suddenly worried he’s gotten me a kitten or a puppy. Hell, I can’t even take care of myself—the last thing I need to be responsible for right now is an animal.