Page 40 of Unbound

“Thanks—”

“Why is your hair wet?” he blurts.

I blush while Bennett pales.

Bennett Reiner is carefully controlled. I’ve seen him in enough environments to know he’s meticulous about when he speaks and what he says. But with me, he seems to do this a lot: divulging his thoughts and feelings the moment he has them, not carefully controlled. It’s refreshing, and a little selfishly, it makes me feel like I’m different to him. Somehow more than everyone else.

He shakes his head at his own question, grimacing as if he didn’t mean to ask and would do just about anything to take it back. His hands flex in a quick pattern as he tries to apologize. “Sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. I, um.” I pull at my braid, lip trapped between my teeth. “I swam this morning, so I showered really quick before, and my hair didn’t dry in time. So, it’s kind of a mess.”

“You swim? Like, for the team here?” His brow furrows and he tilts his head, almost distressed at possibly missing this detail about me.

“Oh, no. I just like it. It makes me feel good and alleviates stress. So, I just . . . do it for fun, I guess. It’s calming.”

At this, he nods understandingly.

“Do you swim?” I ask.

“Recreationally, in a pool, yes. But not like . . .” He fiddles with his curls, his other hand tapping along his leg. “I don’t know the technical ways.”

“I could teach you, if you ever wanted to learn. Might be good conditioning.”

His brow wrinkles slightly, but he clears his throat and tries another question. “Um, how long have you been swimming?”

“Since I was a kid. I—I fell into a pool and decided I should probably learn so I didn’t drown.” I laugh, grinning toward him, shoving a few light brown strands of hair back. “But, yeah. I just never stopped. And then it became this peaceful thing for me, something that made me feel completely calm and safe. Weird, considering I almost drowned the first time.”

Another laugh slips from my mouth, but Bennett just listens, his face set in deep concentration.

A quiet pause stretches between us, not uncomfortable but long enough that Bennett seems to be growing more anxious.

“Thank you for inviting me. I—” My gaze darts up to the empty counter where a girl with brown hair twirls the ends of her ponytail while slumped with boredom or sleepiness. “Should we order?”

“Right—coffee,” Bennett says, almost to himself. Like a reminder. “I can order, if you tell me what you’d like.”

I don’t drink coffee; never tried more than a few sips of bitter black cups in a kitchen I’d rather erase from my mind. My mom didn’t have a coffeepot to wake her up, instead reaching for an orange pill bottle or fifth of whiskey.

“Mom?” A flash of bright blond hair, messy and tangled. A little girl with a brush in her hand, half-hiding behind a stained sofa to ask her mom to help her.

My stomach churns as I shove the unwanted memories away.

“What do you usually get?”

“Iced black coffee, three tablespoons of almond milk,” he recites, like reading off an instruction manual. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he looks at me. “But you shouldn’t get that. I mean, I’m worried you won’t like it. It’s not sweet, if you like that.”

I do like sweet drinks. Normally I’d just order a Dr Pepper and move on, but I want this moment to be something new. Something different; better.

“You should pick for me. Surprise me.” I grin broadly, encouragingly.

Bennett looks apprehensive, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment as his eyes dart over his shoulder and scroll the handwritten menu. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll like whatever you pick. I promise.”

Gregory Alan Isakov’s “Big Black Car” plays quietly over the speakers of the coffee shop. Bennett hulks over the counter, even as he curves in his shoulders and speaks quietly to the barista. They talk back and forth for a moment, though he never makes eye contact, before he returns with a numbered placard for the table.

“I got you food, too. Since you swam this morning, I figure you’re probably hungry.”

My stomach flutters.