Page 79 of Eye of the Beholder
“Well, don’t tell her, but I kept some,” she says. She brushes past me and goes out into the hall. As soon as she leaves, I pull my soaked shirt off over my head. While I wait for her to come back, I look more closely at her room. There’s a big poster over her desk that says, “You are enough,” and next to that is what looks like a list. It’s titled “To Do.” When I see the items on the list, I can’t help my smile. My smile widens when I see a piece of paper on her desk—a labeled diagram of a football field. Has she been practicing football terminology?
Mina comes back a minute later with a towel. “And here’s—Cohen! Your shirt!”
“I can’t put on your shirt until I take mine off,” I say. I don’t bother to hide my grin.
Maybe I’m showing off a little. Football keeps me in good shape. And she notices.
“You’re checking me out right now,” I say, my grin widening.
“Yeah, well, you’ve done your fair share of that,” she says, her eyes lingering. Then she looks back to me and hands me the towel.
“I have not,” I say.
“Oh, don’t lie,” she says. “The black dress? The tank top? You’re not subtle about it. Now put the shirt on.”
“The black dress was a special case,” I say, grinning.
“And the pajamas?” she says, folding her arms over her chest and raising a skeptical eyebrow.
I swallow, thinking of her in my car after the corn maze, remembering the gentle slope of her neck and bare shoulders. “A very special case. Normally I’m very subtle. I’ll try to do better in the future.”
She shakes her head. “No. Guys aren’t subtle. You’re no exception.”
I’m not going to respond to that. Instead I gesture at the list I noticed. “Speak your mind. Remember your worth. Come out of your comfort zone. Your goals, I assume?”
Mina’s face turns red. “Oh,” she says. “Yeah. Something like that.”
I nod, eyeing her. “I think those are good goals.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s pleased, if not a little embarrassed.
“Are you going to change?” I say, changing the subject so she won’t feel awkward. “You’re just as soaked as I am.”
She shrugs, looking relieved. “I’ll change once you leave.”
I pull her shirt over my head, and I immediately catch the faint, lingering scent of her perfume. Does she spray it on her clothes? “It smells like you,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, her cheeks reddening slightly. “Yeah. It’s potpourri. I keep it in my drawers. It’s the same scent as my perfume,” she says, pointing to the purple bottle on top of the dresser. “Sorry.”
“I like it,” I say before I think better of it. I take the towel she gave me and rub it over my head.
“Better?” she says.
“A lot better,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Here,” she says, stepping closer to me. “Your hair is sticking up all over the place.” She reaches up and tries to flatten my hair a bit, but I’m sure it doesn’t work.
I don’t say anything; it feels good.
“Well, that’s hopeless,” she says, and to my disappointment she lets her hands drop and steps back. “Also,” she says, sounding nervous. “I just wanted to tell you that I applied to that school I told you about. And I don’t think I would have if you hadn’t encouraged me. So…thank you.”
I smile at her. “You did? That’s awesome, Mina.”
She smiles back. “I mean, it’s probably a long shot. But you were right. I would regret not at least trying.”
I nod, looking around her room again. “Good,” I say, and my eyes fall on a picture of Jesus. He’s sitting with a little girl whose eyes are blue and brown. I smile.
“Well, you should go,” Mina says, and I look back to her. “I’m not really supposed to have guys in my room. That rule courtesy of my parents after raising Ruby.”
