All This Time

4 ⦿ in which i meet the grinch

December 22, 2010 10:30 a.m.

Every time Wolf's eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, I'm proven correct. I've never thought that eyes were the windows to the soul, but I think I may be a believer now. Wolf's radiate hostility every time he looks at me - which, for the record, is a lot. It's only twenty miles between Wolf's home in the town of Oudewater and Amsterdam Airport, but it feels more like two-hundred.

It took me aback at first, I'll admit. Plenty of people don't like me, but it's usually after getting to know me. No one has ever made their minds up within the first minute of seeing me. I glance down at my outfit; comfortable skinny jeans and suede ankle boots with an oversized oatmeal sweater on top and a thick navy-blue Sherlock Holme's-esque jacket pulled up at the collar to shield my neck from the elements. Even though the heater is blasting in the car, I still feel cold.

Next to me, Xander grins encouragingly. I wonder if he's ignoring his friend's bad manners or if he's oblivious to them. I feel cloistered and uncomfortable even though he's trying to tell me about the great things to do in the Netherlands.

"Is this your first time in Europe?" Wolfram asks, cutting through Xander's babbling. Though his question, presumably, is aimed at me, his tone is politely disinterested and he meets my eyes for only a second before flicking away in dismissal.

I feel the need to put him in his place. Not to impress him, but to make him eat his words, I give him a beatific smile worthy of Mother Teresa and say, "no, I travel almost every year with my parents. Last year we did Italy."

"Tourists," Wolfram says derisively.

I blink. Um, duh? Not all of us have ancestral homes on the other side of the Earth. "You're well traveled, I take it?" I ask, my gaze boring into his.

The insufferable man doesn't even have the courtesy of feigning humbleness. "Now that I'm part of van der Waals Enterprises, I rarely travel for pleasure anymore. Luckily we have homes in the cities where our branch offices are located, so you could say I'm a citizen of the world." He tilts his chin up and we lock gazes in the rearview mirror.

Did he seriously just lowkey brag about his multiple residences? My parents were still paying off the mortgage on their house. "Must be nice," I say wistfully, forgetting to sound aloof.

He flashes a dimpled smile at me so fast that it's blinding, even more so than his perfectly-whitened teeth. "It is." There's a faint whiff of smugness to his words.

Everything about this boy is expensive, I think, and curl up against the window, peering out. If I didn't know I'd crossed the Atlantic Ocean to get here, I would think I was leaving JFK Airport. The same dreary grayness of the sky and the same clogged lanes fill my vision as Wolfram expertly navigates us through the swarm of returning travelers with surgical precision.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry I forgot to ask. Did you have breakfast?" Xander blurts out.

I tear my gaze away from the window. "They served us something on the plane."

"It's no trouble if you want to stop and eat something more substantial," Wolfram remarks blandly. "American girls aren't usually in the habit of skipping meals, are they?"

He doesn't seem to expect a response to his question, and it's a good thing too, because I'm seething. I'm not hypersensitive about my weight but his jab wounds me right in my soft underbelly. I shift uncomfortably on the seat and count to ten. "Thank you, but I'm really okay," I say at last.

As much as he preens that he's sophisticated and worldly, I know from Xander that Wolfram was born in the United States and spends most of his time at the New York head office...which makes me wonder why he's so determined to give the impression otherwise.