Playing With Fire

Chapter Thirty

                                        Recap

              Startled and unwilling to let it show, lift my legs over the seat and find my footing on the floor on the side opposing him. Travis clears his throat briefly, motions towards the Starbucks building, and begins walking in that direction.

              Following suite, we enter the dimly lit space and are greeted by the stares of sit in customers and grins of café servers. If I weren’t so deterred by the attack beforehand, I would’ve had a drink and an extra cup of whip cream in my hands at this very moment.

             However, the very thought of food repulses me.

             Instead, I allow Travis to guide me to the back of the café.

            “Do you need to go to the restroom?” I ask aloud as we approach them.

            I look back at him, and he shakes his head, reaching forward.

           “No,” The men’s door swings open, and Travis pushes us both in. “But you do.”

           I stumble forward and nearly buckle knees with a very low sink.

          I whirl around to see Travis locking the door behind him, and as I do, I realize the sink I nearly rammed into is a toilet.

           I begin, “Uh—“

              “We need to talk.” Travis says abruptly, his eden eyes piercing the scratch on my shoulder.  

           

                                      Chapter Thirty 

             “In the men’s bathroom?” I muse, lifting one brow.

           Travis stares back at me, unfazed and unmoving. His lips are in a taut, straight line—devoid of any emotion. The precision of seriousness displayed across his features settles in, and I relax my inquisitive stance.

            At first, it’s a little bit awkward when he continues to stare, but then I begin to grow irritated. A few more seconds tick by before I fold my arms across my chest and stare directly back at him.

           When I do, he straightens slightly, and folds his own arms across his chest. With him standing by the door and I by the opposite corner—near the god-awful toilet—we balk in our own challenged silence.

           It’s only when a small, barely noticeable, smirk lifts the corner of his mouth that I bring my gaze down to watch it happen. Before it can grow even further, he turns around so his back is facing me and absentmindedly brings a hand to wipe the smile off his face.

            I relax and bite my lip to prevent myself from smiling over my mini victory.

          Travis reaches for a toilet roll on the side of the sink and turns the faucet on, drenching one towel completely under its touch. Once the paper crumbles under the pressure of the water, he turns the tap off and drains the soggy paper completely.

           There’s another silence between us, and the only noises that can be heard are the individual drops of water. I shift the weight on my legs and glance up at him when he starts to walk closer to me.

           Each step he takes increases the pace of my wildly beating heart. The fact that I can’t tell what he’s trying to do makes me anxious. I search his eyes for any give-away signs, to no avail.