Riley and Devin

Chapter Seventy

My alarm wakes me up at six. I stand up and change into the outfit TJ laid out for me. I'm about to grab a tank top because you can totally see my bra through the shirt, but I should trust TJ, so I don't. I slip into my jeans and pull on my shoes. I brush my hair and spray the perfume that TJ told me to. And then I brush my teeth and lug my stuff downstairs.

I have forty minutes to prepare myself.

I'm going to see him. I'm going to be around him. I'm going to be close to him. And I'm going to have to deal with it.

Thirty minutes later I'm waiting outside with my stuff. I'm sitting on the steps and texting TJ when I hear Devin's car. I don't look up right away but when I do I see him leaning against the hood of his car.

I forget to breathe.

His hair is shorter then I remember. He has it styled where it's cropped a little bit on the sides, but the hair on top of his head is messy like it always was. He also has stubble, and he always was clean shaven.

Oh, God. He looks so good. So much better than he did in any dream. I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and tuck my hair behind my ears and grab my bags. I sling my backpack over my shoulders and wrestle the duffel bag down the steps.

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool. You can do this Riley. It's only Devin.

"Hey," he says. I swallow.

"Hi," I say in a small voice. He takes the duffel bag out of my hands and his fingers brush mine. I jerk back. The place he touched is tingling and feels electric.

"I can take your backpack," Devin says.

"I'll just put it in the back row." Devin's car has a total of five seats. I think I would give too much away if I sat in the back, So I climb into the passenger seat.

"It's okay, I'll just put it in the trunk," he tells me. But I'm already opening the door and shoving it onto the seat. I climb into the passenger seat. Devin slams the trunk and climbs in the driver's seat. Being close to him I can smell what he always smelled like: laundry detergent, green apple shampoo and cologne.

The smell of him is driving me crazy.

I cough. "So uh, how long is the drive?" I ask him, staring out the window. I pull my hair to the right side.

"Seven hours," he says, pausing, "Actually, probably more like nine. There's some construction going on."

Right. Nine hours in a car with him.

"Do you want me to drive for a little while?" I ask him. I look at him. Devin shakes his head. We drive in silence for a couple of minutes.

"Did you eat something? If you're hungry we could stop somewhere," he offers.

"I'm good for a little while. But thanks," I say. It's all so formal.

He turns on the radio and we drive.

I keep looking at him out of the corner of my eye trying to see if he's looking at me. But he's not, keeping his eyes on the road. And why would he look at me? He doesn't like me and he made that clear.

Some shitty song comes on the radio and we both reach to turn it off. His hand touches mine again. I look at him and he still hasn't moved his hand. I want to lace his fingers with mine and I want to kiss him but I can't.

I pull my hand away.

I don't get to want him. I don't get to touch his hand. I don't get to read into to every little touch, every little move. I'm really only torturing myself. I scoot away as far as I can from him and angle myself towards the window.

After an hour I rub my forehead. I'm getting a headache. "Can I roll my window down?" I ask Devin.

"Yeah. You okay?" he asks me.

"Fine, just a little headache," I tell him. I roll down my window and he rolls down his and the ones in the back. The wind blows through my hair and I shut my eyes and sigh.

No matter how much I try I can't look past him. I'm aware of every movement, aware of his presence. I open my eyes and look at the scenery going past in a blur. My shirt keeps falling off my left shoulder and now I see why TJ told me to wear the lacy bra.

I shut my eyes again and press my head against the seat. And when I open my eyes Devin's looking at me. At my shoulder where my shirt slipped off. His eyes are dark and he's breathing heavy. And the he looks up at me. I'm breathing heavy and then I do something really, really, stupid. I lean a bit closer to him.

As soon as it started it's gone.

Devin shifts back on his side and looks at the road. And I basically lean out the window trying to distance myself from him. Devin pulls off the freeway.

"I'm stopping at a Starbucks. Do you want anything?" Devin says. I nod. He pulls through the drive through.

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What would you like?" a voice asks.

"Can I have a venti iced green tea with sweetener and then a blueberry muffin?" Devin says.

"Yep. Is that all?"

Devin gestures for me to talk. I lean over him and grab the edge of the car. It's a very awkward position. My boobs are essentially shoved in his face.

"Can I have a venti caramel frappuccino with extra caramel and an extra shot of espresso and do you have chocolate chip muffins?" I say.

"Yes. Is that all?" she asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Fifteen thirty nine. Pull through to the next window and have a nice day," she says. I climb back into my seat. Devin pays and then hands me my muffin and my drink. He pulls back onto the freeway.

And then out of nowhere he laughs. It's a sort of sad, crazed laugh. I open my mouth before I can stop myself. "What's funny?" I ask him.

"Nothing it's just, you really have changed, haven't you?" he says and then shakes his head.

"What are you are you talking about?" I ask him.

"Your drink. You always got regular coffee. Mostly just black but sometimes with cinnamon and cream," Devin says. He looks at me.

"People change," I say.

"Yeah," Devin says, looking at me. "I guess they do."

I drink my frappuccino in silence. I drink it until there's just whip cream. I use my straw to eat it. "Riley?" he says. And I think I might break again.

"Yes?" I ask in a breathy voice.

"You have something right there," he says and gestures. I just stare at him. He sighs and then his hand reaches up and cups my cheek. His fingers touch my lips and his thumb wipes away and whip cream.

And

I

Can't

Breathe.

His hand is touching me. Touching my face. Touching my lips. I flinch away from him. "Thanks," I mumble.

This is going to be a long car ride.