Driver was stood there. “You ready?” he asked.
She nodded slowly. She didn't want to speak in case something inside of her lost control. She hated the fact that she felt an ache knowing she wasn't going to be around him, least not for now, and hearing his voice or just acknowledging he was even there was enough to remind her of it. She'd known over the past two weeks how this thing within her could make her think and feel things she knew weren't really her.
She'd spent a lot of time with Driver. Apart from Maria, and the occasional visit from Skye, he had been her main source of company.
At first, when he'd been around during those two weeks, he'd sit in his room on his bed, reading a book or on his laptop whilst she was in her room staring into space. Then on the same day Maria told her she was her grandmother, he laid out some books on her bed. She found them after coming out of the shower.
He was sat in his usual position on his bed reading as she leant back to gaze at him through her doorway. He looked up from his page. She pointed inside to the books with a look that questioned 'For me?'. He nodded once, and when he thought she wasn't looking she caught him smiling to himself.
One part of her wanted to like him, the other couldn't. After everything, she just couldn't. And luckily for her, the side that couldn't like him -in fact hated him and Erica and everyone else who'd taken part in her capture, including Maria at times- happened to be the strongest, dominant side of her.
Though not always, she thought as she stared down at her bedsheets, whilst Driver waited by the door for her to bring her luggage. She zipped it up, stood and carried it over. When she handed it to him, he was watching her, and she saw his eyes focus on her hand as she tried to keep it far from his. He took the bag from her and held it at his side, his gaze making her skin tingle. She turned her back and scanned the room to check she hadn't missed anything.
Their awkward interaction took her back to two days ago when she'd almost reached out and touched his arm without thinking.
He brought her meals often but had never come back with an uncooked steak before. Not since the first time. And she hadn't asked, though they both knew she wanted one.
That Thursday night, however, he did bring one for her. He placed it in front of her and for some sickening reason, the moment she saw it, she felt like she owed him, that she should show her gratitude.
Then when he asked her if she'd like him to stay and join her, her hand reached out, ready to touch his arm as he perched on his bed above her. Realizing what she was doing, she flung her hand straight back into her chest with the power of a slingshot, holding it tightly to her ribcage in case it moved uncontrollably again. She nearly fell back from her cross-legged position on the animal hide with the speed she'd moved.
He watched her sudden movement with bewilderment; his dark eyes lightened with surprise.
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
He studied her for a short moment and then, getting up casually, he left without another word.
She wasn't able to stop the annoying bitch in her head from feeling terrible that she'd offended him. It was driving her insane.
Bringing her back to the present, Driver's voice filled the small space. “I was wondering,” he began as he hovered by her door, “if you wanted to take some books with you.”
She gazed at him, thinking about it.
She'd left the ones he'd given her to read on his bed. The usual classics: Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, all the Jane Austen novels. She'd read all of them in eight days and now she had nothing to read.
“That would be nice,” she mumbled.
He signalled her with his hand to follow him. She got up and he led her to his bed, then knelt down and dug his fingers underneath the edge of the mattress. There was a clicking sound and then the bed frame, mattress included, lifted up from the floor. The legs and outer frame stayed on the ground. He only had to push it up and the bed did the rest, leaning against the wall.
Jaz stared at the wooden slats of the bed before glancing down as the sound of paper being rustled drew her attention to the bottom frame fixed to the ground.
The area of the bed was a huge storage unit. There were books and folders and shoe boxes stacked neatly inside. The books were slotted into wooden shelves facing upwards on one half of the space, leaving the left hand side free to fit bigger items such as the boxes and folders.
He pulled out books, one by one placing them on the floor next to him. She read titles like Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, Dracula, North & South. He selected an eclectic mixture of books, old and new.
She counted up to fifteen before she stopped him. “That's more than enough,” she said with a smirk.
He turned and smiled at her then rested on his knees.