“No, I’m good,” I nod. “But, thank you.”
He nods, with his lips pressed tightly together. I still can’t read him. At least, not like I can read Anderson. But, scratching on the surface of this reclusive man has brought me unexpected pleasure. Like he is a box that needs to be kept closed all the time, otherwise both good and bad things might come out of it.
As I watch him close the front door, I wonder what would happen if that box were to open. Would it frighten me? Or, would I welcome what comes with open arms?
Chapter 11
Early in the evening, I hear the same sound of the car once more, but I don’t rush outside. I’m still in my bed, reading my book. My legs are tingling. They want me to run into the kitchen, and start a conversation with Anderson. I want to ask him what he’s been up to. I want to see him smile, and tell me again that I shouldn’t worry about anything. But, I remember Fynn’s words. We shouldn’t get close to one another. None of us. We need to stay on our toes. We need to focus on the fact that this isn’t a vacation. He said so himself. We’re in danger, at any waking moment, and we shouldn’t do anything that prevents us from focusing on that.
I’m still holding the book in my hands, but I can barely focus on the plot and what the protagonist is going to do next. I couldn’t care less. My ears are pricked up, focusing on even the slightest noise coming from the outer side of my closed doors. Suddenly, I feel thirsty and I see that the little pitcher of water by my bedside is empty. I get up, without thinking and grab it, walking to the kitchen.
Anderson is already there. He hasn’t even taken his jacket off yet. There’s a big, brown paper bag on the counter, overspilling with greenery and colorful bags.
“I know you guys didn’t say to get anything, but I figured we could do with some chips and salsa,” he grins at me.
“You’re reading my mind,” I say.
“I did get some fruits and vegetables, too,” he adds, defensively. “So, you don’t tell Hugo that we fed you only shit.”
I chuckle. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He starts taking out all the food and places it carefully in the pantry, and the fridge.
“Everything was good today?” he suddenly asks me.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Why?”
“Well…” He rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving half of the paper bag still full of food. “You were alone with Fynn, and last time we spoke, I didn’t get the impression you liked him all that much.”
“Yeah, that was exactly the impression I had about him,” I smile. “But, we talked. Really talked. And, I understand where he’s coming from.”
“You do?” My confession catches him off guard.
“He told me about… Reba? I think that was her name.”
“He actually told you that?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow,” Anderson seems shocked. “He doesn’t really talk about it, unless he really has to.”
“Well, I didn’t push him or anything…”
“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But, I’m just surprised that he’d open up to someone like that, someone he doesn’t know.” Then, he adds, with a little smile on his face. “I think you two have a positive effect on each other.”
“Positive?”
“Absolutely,” he nods. “It’s just that neither of you knows it yet.”
“I mean, I’m happy that we’ve cleared up the air and all, but I don’t really see us having much in common.”
“Well, you never know.”
“I doubt I’d ever find out, to be honest,” I shru
g. “And, it’s OK. I mean, he’s right.”
“About what?”