The Lair

by Lisina Coney

When I looked up, I understood why this place was called The Lair—a bear-man was hiding in here.

Everything I know about Travis Ward I have learned against my will. It’s not that I don’t care about him. It’s just that he doesn’t speak much, let alone share the details of his personal life with his co-workers.

I shove it into Travis’s giant hand as his eyes scan every inch of my face, probably looking for the audacity.

“I would never yell at you.” My heart jumps. Yes, someone not yelling at me should be the bare minimum, but I’m not focusing on that. Travis never yells at anyone.

Maybe I should start being unapologetic about the things that make me happy, no matter how silly they might sound to others.

“Do you think it’s possible for someone to open a car window from the outside without breaking the glass or damaging the rest of the car?” He blinks. Then blinks again. “Why do you want to know?” he asks, slowly. I try not to wince.

“I never consented to being part of your job,” I bit back.

“So what did that gut feeling tell you about me?” He takes his time to chew and swallow before speaking again. “I don’t exactly know. I’m not great at identifying my feelings. Takes me a while.

“That’s…” Too big. Huge. I gulp again. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell, Travis?” His low chuckle sends a thrill through me. “Way to boost my ego.”

Travis is the biggest mother hen I know—and the softness he can’t hide every time I kiss him.

Allie’s family isn’t based on any real family, living or dead, either. I didn’t bother giving her parents first names because they’re only an archetype. They represent my idea of narcissistic people who failed to protect their daughter from the dangers of social media.