Flight Risk

8 - Clarke Home Part 2

Caleb: I tried knocking, but you must be having a little sleep. Once you're rested, I'm free if you want to talk about our relationship before we face your parents again.

I exhaled, the air feeling heavy in my lungs. Was he having second thoughts? A fake relationship was a terrible idea, but we'd already lied to my parents, Claire, and Vince. Being honest about it would land Caleb in far more uncomfortable conversations with Vince and my family, and that wasn't fair because he was such a good guy. I'd only do that if he wanted me to.

Audrey: Good idea, I'm up now.

Not long after, a gentle knock came at my door. Caleb stood there with a tentative smile. His mid-length dark hair was messy like he'd run his hands through it many times, though I liked the look on him.

"How you going?" His accent made me grin despite the pit of guilt sloshing in my gut.

"Good enough."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

He stepped inside, looking at my childhood and university bedroom. Unlike American movies, if you were studying for a general degree at a local university here, most people from the city or the nearby communities lived at home with their parents and commuted.

Vintage-looking travel posters of Australia, New Zealand, and Rome hung on the walls, and souvenirs from various places like shells and decorated wooden boxes lined the shelves, so it wasn't too embarrassing, although I had a few silly childhood photos hanging. Of course, Caleb gravitated to those, gasping.

"You were platinum blonde. My god!" He chuckled to himself.

"Yeah, it faded to this forgettable dirty blonde with time."

"Forgettable isn't the right word for you."

My skin tingled like the sun was warming it to the perfect temperature. It wasn't the right word for him either, but I hesitated to say it because I didn't want to come on too strong too soon. That usually put me off of people.

He stepped back from the photos and looked at me while tucking his hands in his pockets. He'd changed from his shorts into a pair of light grey jeans and a thin forest green t-shirt that suited him well. It had a drawing of a wombat and the phrase 'Easily distracted by wombats' on it.

He caught me staring at it and his face brightened with a smile.

"Ya like it?"

I wasn't sure what to like more, his accent, his beautiful green-eyed stare, or the shirt. "It's womba-tastic."

He chucked. "You're more adorable each time we speak."

I fought to keep from blushing. Was he practice flirting or real flirting? And what was wrong with me that my regret over hurting Trev vanished the second Caleb smiled at me?

"How are you fighting off the jet lag?" he asked.

"Pretty sure if you hadn't messaged me, I'd have passed out for twelve hours and my mom wouldn't be too pleased. Have you rested?"

He shrugged. "I've tried, but it hasn't gone too well."

Silence lingered between us where our gazes met like ships passing in the night, but we both looked away seconds later.

I cleared my throat. "Are you regretting this fake dating arrangement?"

He ran a hand through his hair, which looked incredibly soft. "It was a rather hasty suggestion. Are you?"

Yes, just imagining Trevor's hurt face was regrowing the guilt like a fungus on a moist forest floor. But it wasn't fair to burden Caleb with that. "I asked you first."