July 2
Ana
I pull the last stubborn weed out of the tomato patch and toss it on the heap for Ryan's compost pile.
"I have another offering to the compost gods," I call to him.
Casper scrambles to his feet at the sound of my voice and watches me warily from the other side of the electric fence. Ryan installed the fence soon after the little garden was planted to keep critters out. Casper found himself included in the list of animals repelled by the sharp sting of the current running through the fence only a few hours later. I'd like to say Casper learned his lesson, but it wasn't until two more zaps that he finally developed a respect for the barrier.
Ryan emerges from the shed and wordlessly gathers up the biomatter I've set aside for him. He spares me a slight glare for my teasing comment. I laugh at his annoyance, which I'm pretty certain is mostly a farce. He ducks his head, but I catch what might be a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. After depositing the material by his precious compost pile, he stands there in silent contemplation. He's probably mulling over the perfect ratio of "greens to browns" or whatever the names for compost ingredients are. He explained to me once how the whole process works, but I just couldn't comprehend why he cares about it so much.
"You know, if you'd devoted half the time you spend on that trash heap to playing the cello, you could have been the next Yo-Yo Ma," I shout to him across the yard.
I'd hoped calling it a trash heap would get a verbal response out of him, but all I get is a shake of the head. A little disappointed, I finish up in the garden and sit in the shade on the porch. Sipping a glass of ice water, I do some pondering of my own.
Ryan's been extra quiet for the past week and a half, ever since the day we went camping. At first I thought he was mad at me for pushing him too far about his clothes. Then I thought maybe it was his ex's birthday or some other day of significance that's bothering him. But now, an entirely different idea has dawned on me.
Why can't I get you out of my head?
The words from my dream that night in the tent replay in my mind. I'd been having a dream that I was dead. It was a recurring nightmare I'd been experiencing since that terrible night last November. While disturbing, I preferred dreaming that I was a corpse to dreams of being hunted down by my family's murderer. At least the becoming-dead part was over. But in this iteration of the dream, something had changed. I was Juliet Capulet from the oh-so-famous Shakespearean tragedy, lying in a death-like slumber in the Capulet family tomb. While unusual, this wasn't the part of the dream that had me so perplexed.
Romeo was with me in the dream. He hovered over my - Juliet's - body, half his face hidden by the shadows of the dim tomb. But instead of quoting Romeo's dialogue, kissing me, and drinking a vial of poison, he just watched me for what seemed an eternity. Then he disappeared into the depths of the tomb. After a moment, the words "Why can't I get you out of my head?" were spoken from somewhere in those depths.
I woke up after that, confused to return to myself and in a strange environment. Though I knew the words must have just been a dream, I looked around for Romeo anyway. I was alone in the tent, aside from Casper curled up next to me.
Up until just now, I'd been convinced it was nothing more than an odd dream. But suddenly, I'm not so sure. Though the corner of the cabin blocks my view of him, I glance over in the direction of Ryan's compost pile. What if it wasn't a dream? What if he said those words? What if that's why he's started acting weird?
If the words from my dream were actually a secret confession from Ryan, what does it mean? Does he mean I'm insanely annoying? I'm always in his head because I never give him any space to think? These seem unlikely, but the obvious interpretation seems even more ridiculous. He can't get me out of his head because he's falling in love with me. I shake my head, trying to break loose from that absurd thought. This is ludicrous, imagining that Ryan is secretly pining over me. He's given no indication whatsoever that he's interested.
It must have just been a dream. An invention of my subconscious. Excellent. I'm dreaming of a brooding, repressed Romeo and imagining the words of a secret romantic confession. Get a grip, Tayja! Three months cooped up with one guy and I try to convince myself that he must be falling in love with me.
"Hey."
Ryan's unexpected voice startles me. I jump before turning to look at him, feeling as though he'd been able to hear my thoughts.
"What is it?" I ask breathlessly.
"I didn't mean to scare you," Ryan says, looking chagrined. "I just wanted to know if you'd like to learn how to drive the ATV."
I wait a moment for my heart rate to return to normal and for my brain to process his words. "Sure," I say, jumping up and hoping to shake off the weight of my childish thoughts.
Ryan straddles the ATV and shows me how to turn it on. A few minutes later, he's driving it around slowly in the yard, showing me how to steer, accelerate, brake, and change gears.
"But when will I know that I need to shift?" I ask.
"You've never driven stick, have you?"
The question is really more of a statement. I shake my head anyway.
He puts the ATV in idle and climbs off. "Get on," he says over the noise of the engine.
I climb aboard and look to him for instruction, but he's climbing on behind me. The vehicle's seat is rather large, but it's still only one seat. I reach forward and grab the handlebars. He places his left hand over mine, but seems to hesitate with his right before gingerly resting it atop mine, two of the fingers inside the glove remaining stiff and straight instead of curling around mine.
"OK, put it in gear," Ryan says into my right ear. My back is pressed into his chest and I can feel his words rumbling through my spine. A new thought forms. What if that dream wasn't a suggestion that Ryan's got feelings for me - what if it was an indication that I have feelings for Ryan! My heart pounds and I become very aware of the feeling of his chest expanding with a breath. I try to focus on the vehicle.
"Now head for the treeline." His voice is so close to my ear. I feel the skin on the side of my neck erupt into goosebumps. The slight terror from trying to drive the ATV distracts me somewhat from Ryan's closeness.
"Turn onto the road and go straight."
Ryan directs me to an area with fewer trees and rougher terrain. As we ascend a steep incline, he speaks in my ear again.
"Feel the accelerator losing power? You need to downshift now."
I struggle to remember what combination of knobs and levers will achieve that action. I manage to puzzle it out and coerce the vehicle into cresting the hill. Now on even ground, I shift back to the gear I'd had it in before.
"Like that?" I ask.
"What?" Ryan says. I remember that he's deaf in one ear. I whip my head around quickly to repeat the question, but freeze when I realize that my lips are barely a centimeter away from his jaw. His head is over my shoulder so he can see where we're going. No wonder his voice sounded so near to my ear. I think we're closer right now than we've ever been before. Even the day he taught me how to shoot his rifle, he kept more distance than this.
He turns his head to look down at me and sets a new proximity record. I can't even breathe, staring up into that perfect blue eye. Unable to keep eye contact, I drop my gaze... and land on his lips. Sudden heat rushes through my body and I realize staring at his lips is arguably more problematic than returning his searching gaze. In a desperate attempt to regain possession of myself, I shift my gaze to the disfigured side of his face. Only then am I able to find my voice and repeat my question.
"Yes," he barks quickly before turning his face away so only the pristine profile is visible. "Watch where you're going," he orders, his voice a little hard.
I twist back to face forward again. Fortunately, the inevitable blush has held off long enough that it's only just now blooming red across my cheeks. I focus hard on the view ahead of me, trying not to think about the man with the sculpted face of a model nearly engulfing me.
Fate conspires against me by way of a sudden drop. I grasp the handlebars tighter, but Ryan's grip fails and both his hands fly off. Before my terror for his safety can fully set in, I feel his arms lock around my waist. The side of his face brushes my ear as he instinctively curls around me, trying not to fall. This feels like a tight, amorous hug from behind. I almost expect to feel his lips pressing a gentle kiss at the base of my neck, like I've seen the male leads do in dramas.
A little afraid of what I might do if I were to turn my head and look at him again, I yell in a strained voice, "Are you OK?"
"Fine," he snaps, releasing his hold on my waist quickly and seeming to scoot back away from me as he grabs the handlebars again.
After that near disaster, I decide this ATV just wasn't built to handle two riders on extreme off-road adventures. I drive us back to the cabin, my heart still thumping at the speed of a nimble Salsa dancer.
As soon as the ATV comes to a full stop, Ryan practically launches himself off of it. I feel cold at the loss of his body heat. He moves a few paces away and waves me on. I drive the ATV back to the shed and park it inside. I wait a few moments to sort through my racing thoughts before climbing off.
First, the theory that Ryan is secretly infatuated with me seems thoroughly debunked. His distant behavior for the past week and a half finally makes sense. I must have really hurt him with that stupid thing I said about taking his shirt off. He pulled away like he'd been burned after he'd hugged me for balance. He seemed entirely unaffected by our extreme nearness when I'd turned to speak to him, and he couldn't wait to let go of me once we got back. He seems to abhor touching me. Even without my thoughtless comments to him and his subsequent weird behavior, I should have been able to rule out any suspicion that he's into me with one simple fact. He's still way too obsessed with his ex to notice me.
The second and decidedly more disturbing fact of the matter is this: for every ounce of revulsion he feels toward me, I feel a pound of attraction toward him. I take a deep breath and let it out. I know myself well enough to recognize what's happening here. I've done this before: I suddenly develop a raging crush on a guy, only for it to peter out a few weeks later. I just need to avoid embarrassing myself too badly before this can run its course.
I can't let him know how the feeling of his tight embrace affected me. I can't keep temporarily losing my cognitive abilities anytime he fixes that mesmerizing stare on me. If he knew, I would just die of the awkwardness. Normally if I had unrequited feelings for a guy, I could just avoid him for the rest of eternity. But if Ryan finds out about this little crush I've developed, there's nowhere for me to go! I'll just have to sit around and marinate in the awkwardness until my soul shrivels up.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and tell myself that I'm going to be fine. I can handle this. I survived two close encounters with hitmen, for goodness sake. Or is it three now, counting the helicopter?
I climb off the ATV, school my features, and walk out of the shed looking as serene as I can manage. This is going to be easy. A piece of cake, really. Ryan's doing half the work for me. With the distance he's been putting between us and his obvious distaste for me of late, I should be able to rein this in quickly.
Nothing cures a crush like a healthy dose of rejection, right?