Wind

• • T H R E E • •

The horn blared again, and a red car pulled out around me, its wheels squealing as it sped by. Not a truck. Not Joshua. Just a car. I exhaled heavily, trying to calm myself. The stoplight had turned green, and I hadn't noticed. That was all.

My hands shook as I continued driving. I was being silly, thinking about men with eyes like black holes and monsters lurking in forests. It was stupid. I turned on the radio and listened to a country song I only knew half of the lyrics to.

The porch light was on at Lydia's house when I finally parked my Camry in the vacant asphalt driveway. Years of scorching summers and arctic winters had cracked the blacktop finish like an eggshell.

I pulled the car visor down and checked myself out in the mirror. My dark blue eyes were bloodshot because they always were, but other than that I looked all right. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes from where I'd placed it in the center console and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans as I got out of the car.

I rang the doorbell and crossed my arms tightly in front of my chest, trying to keep warm as the icy wind barreled into me. I'd worn my nicest grey sweater because I knew Lydia liked it, but I wished I'd had a hood to put up to cover my head.

The sound of shuffling feet and the high pitched yipping of Lydia's parents' dog echoed on the other side of the wall. The animal was some sort of poodle hybrid—half poodle, half rat, I think. I didn't like the thing too much, that was for sure.

The door swung open.

"Hey, Harper," Lydia greeted me, holding the dog back with her foot. She was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans that hugged her narrow hips and a peach colored blouse that fit her loosely. The fabric was almost sheer.

"Hey," I replied.

"Quit barking, Noodle," she addressed the dog. "Get out of here, you know Harper hates you, yes he does, yes he does, go on, get." She gave the dog a bit of a shove in the butt with her foot and it darted off into the other room. "Sorry about that," she told me. "You know Noodle doesn't like the doorbell."

"It's fine." I stepped inside and kissed Lydia gently on the lips. She blushed and smiled, the little dimples showing on her cheeks. I tried to push thoughts from the drive and earlier that day out of my mind, but my heart pounded against my chest loudly enough I was certain Lydia could hear it.

"Come in," she said, gesturing for me to follow her further into the house. I closed the door behind me, knocking the sound of the infinite raging windstorm down to a hungry moan.

"I made dinner," Lydia said as she walked off into the kitchen.

I paused in the foyer. A faded piece of construction paper artwork hung from the wall. Lydia had made it in the third grade, and her parents had never taken it down. Her art had gotten significantly better since then, of course, but it'd always been her hobby and her talent. I'd once told her that the only thing she was missing to becoming a famous artist was an enormous unibrow.

She didn't like that idea.

"Harper?" her voice called from the kitchen.

I took a few quick steps to catch up.

"I got a bottle of wine, too," she said when I entered the room.