THE CODE THAT LINKS US ©

Chapter Nineteen

I gain courage getting myself closer to him waiting for the moment he would look at me again to bend and kiss him. Would I do it okay? I have no idea, but it will be useful. Right? I am about to slide an inch closer, with him not even noticing. He suddenly decides to talk. "Since I was a child, I dreamed of becoming a movie director." I increase the space between us and turn to face him. I stare at his profile until he decides to look at me and smile. I know I blush because his smile turns shy. "My whole life I have admired my father... he's somehow a small scale director," I force a small laugh when he presses his lips thinking of what he is saying. "No one really recognizes him that way, but he directs the commercials you see on TV."

"I like the commercials I see on TV," I say holding my legs against my body and he laughs.

"You don't have to lie," he says smiling. "Everyone hates commercials, even I hate them." I laugh. "I mean it, they're annoying. But what happens behind them, it's amazing."

"Therefore, you want to make commercials and make people suffer..."

"There's where you are wrong," he says. "I'm going to direct a movie. You know... from a good book, a story worth to be told... I could make a documentary about your life and win an Oscar."

"I don't think you could win an Oscar for one life as ordinary as mine."

"It's not ordinary the life of someone that hides so much behind those beautiful eyes," he says.

"I am not hiding anything," I say.

"Everyone hides something." I look at him. "There's something you aren't saying," his voice lowers. "Technically you're not saying anything, but I know you will tell me when you are ready."

"I am different..." I look at the sign in front of us again. Why do I say that? I don't know, but for some reason, I believe I can trust him.

"You are exceptional," he compliments me and I force a smile.

"I believe the word you are looking for is perfect," I say.

"What a high self-esteem!" he jokes and I look at him smiling this time.

"I'm trying to be honest and serious with you." He laughs nodding.

"My fault..." He leans against the windshield glass. "Now I am going to be serious too," he clears his throat and gestures me to continue.

"Unlike you, I don't think I admire my father..." I begin to say and his eyes get stuck on mine immediately. "I don't know him as I should. I don't know him at all. It's almost as if we were only housemates. With my mom, it was almost the same way. Until a few days ago, when everything changed. It started when I discovered that-"

"Excuse me," a man startles us when he suddenly appears behind me. I turn around to face him. A normal man, kind of old with dark hair and bushy beard. He is wearing loose jeans, sneakers, a hat, and a blue t-shirt. Maybe a tourist. He smiles to me for longer than he should and suddenly I begin to feel uncomfortable and panicked.

"Can I help you?" Dylan stands up in front of me with crossed arms. Face to face with the stranger who quits smiling to look at him seriously.

"Yeah, please... my truck broke down and I need to call a crane that could tow it, but everything seems to be against me and my phone's battery is dead," the man explains and when he finishes he looks at me again. I advert my eyes.

"You can use mine." Dylan extends his phone and the man smiles, taking it.

"So kind of you... I won't take long," says the man before dialing a few steps away from us.

"Are you okay?" asks Dylan without making any sound while my attention stays on the man.

"That's right, the street right in front of the sign..." I hear the man. "Affirmative, we'll wait." He hangs up and hands the phone back to Dylan.

"We will wait?" the questions leaves my mouth unconsciously. Something does not seem right.

"My family is on the truck," he nods at an old pick-up a few away, next to the sidewalk. I don't see anyone. "Have a good night." He leaves.

"That was strange," Dylan says while we both watch the man getting into the truck. "I didn't see him coming-"

"I want to go home," I say. Something is off. I get down from the car's hood and he pulls my hand so that I can face him.

"Are you okay? You are pale." I look at the floor.

"I don't have a good feeling..."

The paranoia makes its comeback and in my brain repetitively flashes warning signs. Is the man following us? Was all that a lie? I search through the rearview mirror for the truck, but can't find it. Maybe it is all in my head.