Escaping Reality

can no longer do.
    We stop at the elevator and he punches the button. “I’m Jared
    Ryan.”
    “Amy,” I provide, and force myself to say more and embrace this new
    identity in a believable way. “Amy Bensen. Nice to meet you. You live in the
    apartment across from me?”
    “For a month or so,” he says, but doesn’t offer more. I want him to
    offer more. “What brings you to Denver?”
    I have no idea why, but I feel like a deer in headlights. The doors to
    the elevator open and I rush inside, tired of spinning tales. “I hear there’s a
    great mall right up the road,” I reply as he joins me inside. “That’s all a girl
    needs.”
    He steps into the car, tilting his head and studying me. I punch the
    button to the elevator and the doors shut instantly. He keys in the floor.
    “You moved here for a mall you’ve never checked out?”
    So much for familiar being comfortable. “It’s been a long time.” It’s
    not a lie. Never is a long time. A very long time. “How far away is it?”
    “Cross at the stoplight and you’ll be at the mall.”
    I don’t like how keenly he is looking at me. Like Liam, he sees too
    much and I think his one-month stay is probably a good thing. The doors
    slide open and I don’t waste any time escaping to the walkway outside, a
    high wind lifting my hair around my shoulders.
    Jared joins me and motions down the sidewalk. “Just walk straight
    and you will run right into the mall.”
    “Thanks. Nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
    He steps a bit closer. Really close, actually, and I can smell his
    cologne. It’s warm like the man, and it reminds me of Texas cedar on a
    spring day. He glances downward, his gaze landing on my feet, and he
    inspects my open-toed shoes and my pink painted toes for so long, blood
    rushes to my cheeks. Over my feet. That’s a new one.
    His attention lifts, eyes narrowing almost suspiciously. “Are you
    walking in those shoes?”
    “It’s close. I’ll be fine.”
    “You want a ride?”
    Yes. No. Yes. No. No. No. Not only does Jared see too much, he has
    this easiness about him that would make running my mouth far too easy. “I
    appreciate the offer, but I’d like to go explore my new neighborhood.”
    He considers my reply for a moment, his lashes lowering, and then
    lifting. “I’d offer to show you around, but I have a meeting.”
    It could be a polite comment without meaning, but there is
    something in his eyes that tell me it’s not. I believe he would take me and
    show me around and I would gobble up the opportunity to talk about my
    old home state, or really, to just talk about anything. If things were
    different. If I were really Amy Bensen.
    “We’re neighbors.” Dang it, I sound hoarse, almost emotional, not
    casual and friendly.
    What is wrong with me? “I’m sure we’ll see each other.”
    “I’m sure we will,” he agrees, and there is a rasp to his voice that
    carries a hidden meaning beyond the obvious. I search his eyes and I
    think…I think he feels this familiar comfortable thing I feel, too.
    I lift my hand in a parting gesture. “See you soon,” I reply, and
    somehow I make myself turn and start walking, but my steps are heavy and
    slow, my body like lead, weariness seeping into my bones. I can feel Jared’s
    stare, and I can feel him willing me to turn back around. And I want to. I
    want to with a desperateness I can barely contain. The museum has given
    me a taste of what “normal” feels like, what friendship feels like, and I miss
    Chloe already. And I miss the tiny window of time when I walked around
    corners without fearing what was on the other side.
    I pass two stores and I swear I can still feel Jared watching me. Why
    would he still be watching me? The hair on my nape prickles and I start to
    think about Jared’s “Texas” shirt and the way he’d questioned me about
    not knowing the area. He’s familiar. Why is he familiar? I don’t know. I am
    suddenly glad I didn’t cave and ask about the shirt, and that I didn’t answer
    his questions with any more detail.
    At the corner, I stop by a bank, and I rotate to face the door, pausing
    before entering the building to look for Jared, but he is nowhere obvious. A
    funny, knotted sensation tightens in my belly and it’s not comfortable at all.
    In fact, it’s downright uncomfortable, which is crazy. I have every reason to
    be relieved that he is gone, and as I enter the building, the cash machine
    appearing to