From the Jump(14)

Rather than feeling superior for restricting myself to a carry-on, I’m freaked out imagining what they’ve packed that I’ve failed to bring. I’ve never been out of the country. Maybe they know about things I didn’t realize I needed. Or maybe they just weren’t rip-roaring drunk when they were pulling clothes out of their closets and throwing them gleefully into a bag. By the time I got back from my appointment with Elena’s cousin, I barely had time to find a spot for the malaria tablets he’d given me, much less double-check what had been done the night before.

There’s a cover over the area outside the door I exit, but its shade can’t diminish the brilliance of the day. The air smells different. It’s earthier than in LA, rich and full of possibility. The sun feels closer, and I fumble in my purse for my sunglasses. Once they’re on, I lift my arms above my head and stretch my entire body, trying to restore it to the shape it was before I decided to live in tinfoil cans for two days. My effort is interrupted by a honk from the little brown hatchback that coasts to a stop in front of me.

“Want a ride, gorgeous?” Deiss leans over from the driver’s seat to speak through the open window on the passenger’s side.

I freeze with my hands in the air, too stunned by his unexpected appearance to react appropriately. It’s not just the fact that he’s showed up instead of Phoebe but that he’s shaved off all of his hair. Not only from his head but the beard, too. All that’s left is a dark stubble on his cheeks and a black buzz on his head that I can’t help imagining feels softer than it looks.

The overall effect is . . . shocking. Overwhelming, actually. Without the hair, there’s nothing to distract from his piercing blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. It’s his mouth that’s the real unearthed treasure, though. I stare at it, unable to think.

“Deiss?” My voice comes out breathy.

“At your service.” His lip curls as if in response to the spotlight of my thoughts. He pulls back into his seat and I hear the pop of the ancient car’s trunk.

His disappearance breaks the trance, and I jerk my arms back to my side. They pop back up as if they’ve been spring-loaded, smoothing at my hair and face and clothes like any of it can be fixed. While it’s reassuring that I’ve brushed my teeth, the image I caught in the mirror while doing so was much less comforting. I happen to know for a fact that, beneath these sunglasses, the green of my eyes is so dramatically surrounded by ribbons of red Deiss is likely to break into Christmas carols if he sees them. My hair is limp, hanging down my back like a batch of sunflowers that have been forced to survive in the shade. I really hope I don’t smell, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.

Deiss climbs out of the car, and I mirror his movement to the trunk. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Disappointed?” He doesn’t seem offended by the idea. He doesn’t even seem particularly curious as to my answer. He merely reaches for my roller bag and tucks it gently into the trunk.

“Of course not.” No wonder he’s kept his face and mouth under wraps. He was probably doing it as a public service because he knew their beauty was too much for the world to handle. The emergence of them has thrown me completely off my game. “I just feel bad. I know it was a long drive.”

The minute the words come out, I realize they’re true. I feel terrible, actually. It was one thing when Phoebe offered to drive me; I knew she’d enjoy three hours of gossip about the ridiculous things Mac has done since they left LA. But Deiss? I can’t believe my arrival has cost him a full day of his vacation.

“It was a long drive. But I figured I should be the one to do it.” He places the bag inside and closes the trunk, pulling the mirrored aviators from where they dangle off the top button of his linen shirt and sliding them over his eyes. “I know you like me best.”

My body relaxes at his words, and I smile as he turns to head toward the driver’s door. My guilt is a wasted effort. He’s Deiss. If he hadn’t wanted to drive all this way to pick me up, he wouldn’t have.

“Actually,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat, “I made a list. Phoebe, obviously, ranked first. You almost came in second, but then I remembered Simone. And Mac.”

The rattly old car smells faintly of gas, and the seat is made of a faux leather that’s peeling in parts. A piece of it digs into my linen pants, threatening to snag the material. Since I’ve never been out of the country before, I’ve also never been in a car made for driving on the opposite side of the road. It’s disconcerting, like everything is normal but also slightly off-kilter.

“Just wait. Phoebe will be plummeting to the bottom of that list soon enough.” Deiss pulls the car out, and my hair tickles my neck as the air from the open windows slips through it. “You’ve never been on one of these things, so you don’t know, but that woman is a nightmare to travel with. Always talking about the schedule. It’s like vacationing at basic training.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, remembering the time Phoebe missed dinner because she’d decided to hitchhike to Tucson. It turned out she’d been “craving a cheese crisp,” although I’d had to come up with a better excuse for her professor to explain the classes she’d missed. If she couldn’t even be bothered to figure out the schedule for a bus back then, I’m certain she’s not enforcing one of her own on others. “I’m going to tell her you’re lying about her.”