Kinsley

Noel isn't so bad. Although I'm not a fan of small talk, he well uses our conversations. I learn more about his fondness for music. He says little about his childhood, though. At one point I try to ask him about his mother. He shuts me down. I leave the conversation alone because I understand what it's like to not want to discuss specific topics.

Noel is... well, he's mellow (minus the obtrusive self-confidence that sometimes bleeds through). He also knows his boundaries. We're very similar in that sense. He asks about my family again, but I steer the conversation in another direction. He drops the subject. We've come to an understanding about avoiding discussions regarding our pasts.

All Noel knows is my family lives in Winnipeg. I feel bad for lying—even it's a white lie. It's not like my parents will ever leave Winnipeg again. They can't. They're dead.

After Noel has paid for our outing, we exit the building. The air is crisp, smelling of autumn.

"So," Noel says. He rubs the back of his neck. "What are you up to tonight?"

I avert my eyes from the leather wallet in his back pocket. Telling Noel I could cover our food was like speaking to a brick wall. With silence, he insisted he pay. Although it was ignorant of him to not politely decline my offer, his actions amused me. There was a grin on his face the entire time he paid. He told me I could pay next time. If I want there to be a next time. Noel was adamant about me having a choice.

I shrug, adjusting the strap of my tote bag. It's filled with a notebook, some pens, and the theory section of the lab we just completed. "Nothing much," I reply. "I'm planning on getting ready for bed and reading. What about you?"

My response holds half a truth. I'll get ready for bed and read after Tristan bombards me with questions about my "date" with Noel. Tristan will want every detail.

"I'll hang out with Cole," he replies. "Dude's been acting strange." He pauses, then glances at me. "Hey, has Tristan said anything. Things have been rocky between them. Maybe that's why Cole is acting strange?"

"I don't doubt it," I mutter, offering him a careless shrug. My respect for Tristan has been low. I don't like her seeing Cole, but swooning over Noel.

God, it's strange talking about them. Their names rhyme.

"Why?" Noel asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Probably because she's swooning over you," I mutter. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"I have," he sighs, running a hand through his dark blond hair. "Acknowledging it? That's a different story. I'm scared she'll take me telling her to stop as a challenge. The last thing I want to do is hurt Cole."

Sympathy radiates through my chest. Poor Noel. He's stuck in the middle. I flash him a sympathetic smile. "For what it's worth, you're not leading her on."

His shoulders sag in relief. Tension is still present on his face, though. "That's good and bad. To surrounding people, there's no emotion. To Tristan? I think she thinks I'm playing hard to get."

Noel has a point. Tristan seems to like challenges. I'm not sure how to respond, so I flash him a sympathetic smile.

We pause at the sidewalk, fading into an awkward silence. It's been years since I parted ways with someone after an outing. I forget how to do it.

Feeling sheepish, I rub my arm, keeping my gaze locked on a line in the cement. "So, um, I'll see you in class?"

"Yeah," Noel replies. He removes his keys from his pocket, jiggling them in his hand. They make a strange noise.

I suppress a shudder, gazing in the direction of campus. It was much brighter outside when I waked here. Anxiety coats the lining of my stomach. People are terrible drivers at night. There's a higher probability they're drunk or overtired. Drivers and dull senses don't make for excellent outcomes.

Walking and taking a risk still beats getting into a vehicle, though.

Suppressing the anxiety, I glance down at my winter coat. It's white. White is easy to spot.

I tell myself I'll be okay.

Noel, sensing my pondering, clears his throat. "I could, uh, give you a ride, Kinsley. I promise I'm not a reckless driver."

He mutters something post-comment. His voice is so muffled, though, I deem his words as incoherent. I don't decipher what he's saying.

Glancing up at Noel, I meet his dark brown gaze. His eyes are a colour I could get lost in—if I had the strength to let my guard down. The depth of emotion in them... it's stunning. A total wow factor, as Mads would say.

The genuine look of kindness and trust, of vulnerability, makes his offer sound appealing.

"It's your decision," Noel continues. "Walking isn't a bad idea... I'm just... Well... It's cold."

I snort. It's cold. His reasoning is cute.

But I can't prevent my walls from building themselves back up. Although his offer is considerate, the side effects of trauma break through. I fear I'm getting too close to Noel.

My gaze is watchful as I ask, "Why would you offer me a ride?"

Shrugging, Noel pulls at the collar of his worn jean jacket. If his torn black jeans were replaced with regular denim, he'd be wearing a Canadian tuxedo.

I press my hand to my mouth, stifling a giggle. I could see Noel wearing one paired with cowboy boots and a hat.

"I'm being polite?" he offers. Sighing, he shakes his head. Strands of dark blond hair tangle with his lashes. "Look, I ain't gonna lie, Kinsley. I like you. Even though you keep pushing me away, I want to be friends. God knows it may not seem like that. I'm horrible at expressing how I feel after all the shit I've been through..."

He trails off, offering a moment of pause. Within that moment, he aggressively runs a hand through his hair. "I lied to you. Walking back to campus at this hour is a terrible idea. It's dark and cold, and there are bad people mixed with the good ones. I just... I want you to be safe."

A crease forms between my brows. His comment about good and bad people is peculiar. "Where would you put yourself?"

Pain is visible in his brown eyes. "I'm not sure yet. But I would never do something unless you asked me to."

His honesty stuns me. I glance at the parking lot, wondering which vehicle is his. My curiosity gives me vertigo—or something that feels like vertigo. Picturing myself stepping into another vehicle isn't a welcoming image in my head. It brings on the onset of PTSD symptoms. Ones my medication can't control.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and blocking out images of the accident. It was dark, just like tonight. The difference is the snow and ice. Although the temperatures are low, snow still hasn't fallen. There's no black ice on the road.

We take risks every day. Walking back to campus is a risk in more ways than one. Accepting the ride with Noel is the better alternative.

Opening my eyes, I make eye contact with Noel. "Okay," I nod. My voice shakes as I speak. "Okay. One ride."

Fear inches its way down my spine, coaxing it with its icy grip. I try to ignore it.

"You..." I trail off. "You should know I'm not a fan of vehicles, though. Don't let my behaviour offend your driving skills."

Noel gives me a funny look. I brace myself for questions, but they don't come. Instead, Noel makes light of the conversation with a joke.

Nudging me, he smiles and says, "Don't worry, Kinsley. My ego can handle it." He gives me another nudge. "Come on. I'm parked over here."

I follow Noel to his truck. It's parked near the end of the lot. By the time we reach it, I'm on the verge of a panic attack. Trucks act as triggers for me, as it was a truck that hit us. Immediately, I try to pick out the differences. Noel's truck is a beautiful blue—the colour of a robin's egg. Rust patterns every nook and cranny, and there are only two doors. Three seats are in the front.

I expel a deep breath, telling myself this isn't the truck that hit us.

The truck that killed my family was modern and sleek. It was black and had enough room for six people.

To ease more of the tension radiating through my shoulders, I remind myself Noel isn't drunk. He kept switching back and forth between green tea and water.

It helps.

A little.

Being a gentleman, Noel opens the passenger door for me. I climb in, buckling my seatbelt. Noel closes the door and jogs around to the driver's side.

Once he's buckled in, he sticks the keys in the ignition, glancing at me. "Ready?"

I inhale deeply, meeting Noel's gaze.

When I don't respond, he reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "It's okay to be afraid of vehicles. I didn't like them for a while, either."

I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. "Just drive."

If my ignorance hurts Noel, he doesn't show it. Instead, he nods and starts the engine. I close my eyes, praying to whatever forces exist in this world, neither of us experiences a car accident.

* * *

It takes ten minutes to arrive on campus.

My palms are indented with half-moons from my nails. My lungs are strained from me holding my breath. Every bump we hit, every car we passed, and every corner we took tortured me.

Now that we're in the residential parking lot, I have to admit Noel's an excellent driver. He didn't go over the speed limit, took corners properly, and never took his eyes off of the road.

As he kills the engine, I think about Mom. She would tell me I should be proud of myself for facing my fears.

But I'm not.

Fear is something I've been wanting to escape.

That's why I came to Calgary—to stop feeling scared all the time. Scared of the next round of pitying stares I would receive. Scared of running into someone I knew. Scared of the nightmares that tortured me at night.

I'm not strong enough to face my fears. If I was, the nightmares would be gone. My knuckles wouldn't be white from the ride back here.

"See?" Noel asks, turning to me. His smile is sympathetic. "We're okay. That wasn't too bad, right?"

Taking a deep breath, I tear my gaze away from the windshield. Our gazes connect. I feel a strange sensation in my stomach. Although I don't want to admit it, I think I'm falling in love with his eyes. His kindness and concern are genuine. A breath of fresh air compared to the pity back home in Winnipeg.

I contemplate his question. If I analyze every second that passed, I can answer his question honestly. My honesty agrees with Noel. The ride wasn't too bad. But it still scared me.

"Not too bad," I reply. My voice still shakes.

Noel snorts, shaking his head. "You're shit at lying," he smiles.

Goddamn that lopsided grin.

"Your driving skills aren't terrible," I say. "Like I said, vehicles scare me."

I end my sentence with a weak smile. Then I turn away and unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Okay," Noel says. His voice is so soft it hurts. Caring always results in bonds. Why does he have to care about me? "If... If you ever want to talk, I'm a good listener."

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting off tears. He shouldn't care about me. He shouldn't be this stubborn. Being a jerk is how to prevent bonds from forming.

"Well," I say, keeping my voice indifferent. "I had a great time tonight. Thanks for dinner, Noel."

My response is problematic. It doesn't sound indifferent at all. It sounds genuine, which catches me off-guard. After jumping over hurdles of discomfort, Noel and I got along fairly well. Which is also problematic.

God, I'm such a mess.

Country music drifts between us. I think it's something by Andrew Hyatt. He's one of my favourite artists.

"Would you do it again?" Noel asks, breaking the silence.

Yes. A thousand times yes. When I'm around you, the weight of the world doesn't bother me as much.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, hating my inner monologue. Why am I thinking this when we don't know each other? One decent outing doesn't amount to trust and friendship.

"Yes," I reply, unable to lie. "I would."

Flicking my gaze to his, I note his stupid brown eyes and cheekbones. His full lips. "The food was excellent, and I had a great time with you, Noel."

He blushes, glancing down and the empty seat between us. "That's good to hear."

I linger. Why, I'm not sure.

"Kinsley..."

He lifts his hand, almost like he was tempted to brush my hair behind my ear.

Butterflies fill my stomach. As does dread.

What scares me is how real these feelings are. Noel is enticing.

He's like a glass bottle of lemonade on a hot summer day. Something you have to have but know you shouldn't want.

My gaze flicks down to his lips. Guilt shreds my insides. After losing Aaron, I shouldn't be showing interest in another man. It's horribly selfish of me.

Noel licks his lips.

The butterflies in my stomach intensify.

Just like that, the moment is broken. Noel sighs and drops his hand. He stares ahead, over the steering wheel. "We'll have to do this again sometime. I had fun, too, Kinsley."

I blink, bringing myself back to reality. With reality comes guilt. Quickly, I gather my purse and step out of the truck.

As I'm walking away, I shake my head. I'm not living in a small town where everything is perfect. I live in a cold, hard reality where pain and trauma control me.

From now on, I need to keep myself far away from Noel. Class work can be an exception, but we can't go out again.

It's just the way it has to be.