Chapter Eighteen #2
Georgia bought a cheesy alien decal for the RV and Shay bought five boxes of alien-themed candy.
Aiden fumbled with a souvenir keychain he’d found for Camila and tried not to blush when Shay touched his tailbone.
The day hadn’t been perfect, but it was the closest he’d gotten in a while.
Georgia laughed skyward and her dress twirled as she spun across the crosswalk while Pru teased Dylan about his newly purchased alien plushie.
They were a band again, bonded like a bloodstain.
The fuzzy high Aiden carried through the museum faded as he lapped at his ice cream cone, but the heat Shay had kissed into him refused to dim.
He watched Shay lick fudge from the side of his hand and forced his eyes to settle elsewhere.
They’d jumped into inescapable wanting, and Aiden reveled in the suspension, the held breath, the newborn lust, exposed like a nerve.
He wanted to enjoy this—them, him —for however long they had left before someone found their fingerprints on a decomposing body.
“Can we do somethin’ lowkey tonight?” Aiden asked, and swallowed the rest of his cone.
“We went to bed at, like, ten last night,” Georgia said, snickering. “You feelin’ okay? Usually, you’d be scoping out the nearest nightclub by now.”
“Just tired, I think. Pretty sure Dylan still wants that bathtub time, too.”
Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I’m down for another quiet night. That little diner had good food and I’ve got a bathbomb to use. It’s not like we won’t find plenty of shit to do in Austin.”
“That diner did have good food. Cute waitress, too,” Pru said.
Georgia lifted her chin, assessing Pru like a picked lock, and said, “Yeah, oaky. No one’s gotta sell me on relaxing. We’ve got a long drive tomorrow, anyway.”
“Gary should have track edits for us at some point,” Shay said, glancing at Aiden. “So, we should probably be around for that.”
Aiden didn’t didn’t care about the track or Dylan’s bathbomb or twice-fried onion rings. He just wanted to be alone with Shay. Wanted to fuck him with the lights on while they were sober. Hold him. Be held by him .
“Yeah, right,” Aiden said, clearing his throat. “We should probably see what Jacob has planned for that, too.”
“Cool.” Georgia waved to the Lyft driver and stepped off the curb, walking briskly toward a pearl Suburban. “This is us, guys.”
The driver made small talk with Dylan up front.
Pru and Georgia thumbed through their phones in the middle seats.
Aiden steadied every inhale, feeling across Shay’s knuckles in the backseat, swallowing hard and chewing on his lip, trying not to arch against the hand between his legs.
He almost pushed Shay away. Almost whispered wait, fuck, please, I’ll ? —
But they arrived, rolling to a stop in the motel parking lot.
The doors slid open, Dylan hollered about his bath, Pru thanked the driver, and Aiden breathed like he’d ran a mile.
Late afternoon brightened the sky, stretching the shadows, and Aiden almost fell into Shay, almost tugged at his clothes, almost said, please, keep going—yes, right here .
“Dinner in an hour? I’ll text Jacob and. . .” Pru paused. She stopped breathing. Listened, intently, and turned toward a group gathering behind them.
Unwarranted stillness arrived, as if the day had suddenly paused, confusing itself for night. Something cut through the air, back and forth, feathering to the asphalt. One dusty velvet glove.
Aiden watched the garment crumble, and he almost collapsed. He heard it everywhere, drumming faster and harder: his angry, horrified heartbeat, begging him— run, go, don’t look .
Someone in the parking lot said, “Oh my God,” distantly, then closer, louder, “Oh my God!”
“Call the police!”
“It’s okay—it’s okay, we’ll get you down! Don’t jump, all right? J-just stay there!”
Guests wandered from their rooms in bathrobes and slippers, holding beer bottles and squirming toddlers. Car doors were left open, keys still jammed in the ignition. Georgia walked backward until she crossed the motel’s shadow, shielding the sun from her eyes, and turned her gaze to the roof.
“Oh, fuck. . .” Georgia covered her mouth, shoulders hunched toward her ears, gasping in ragged breaths. “Holy shit. Guys— guys! ”
Aiden said, “We missed one.”
Shay flexed his jaw. “ I missed one.”
In the lot with Georgia, Pru, and Dylan, Aiden stood beside Shay, watching Laura teeter on the edge of the roof.
Teal hair, velvet glove, bloodied fishnets, and dirty boots, standing with her arms spread, welcoming sandy wind and the uproar below.
Aiden thought, two stories isn’t high enough .
He wanted her to glance at him, to see him alive despite her, but she stared at the sun, lips curved into a fragile smile, and fell like a falcon.
Dylan turned away and Pru ducked into him, hiding under his arm.
Georgia screamed. Aiden yanked her around, smashing her face to his chest. For a moment, he forgot to be afraid.
Laura’s skull met the blacktop, splitting.
Bones bent and broke. An elbow pitched upward, one foot turned wrong, both shoulders popped and loosened.
Blood seeped through her hair and spread across the hot cement, shiny and dark.
She hadn’t jumped, just drifted—aimed, flew, ended.
Aiden clutched Georgia, cradling the back of her head as she sobbed into his shirt.
“I got you,” he said, trembling. “Stay with me. Don’t look, okay?
Don’t look.” He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink.
Couldn’t tear his gaze away from Laura’s cracked cheek and dented chest. Her wide eyes, black as night. Her smile, open. Teeth, pointed.