Chapter 17. Tessa #2
“It’s not just that.” Tilly glances down at her hands.
She’s picking at her nails anxiously. “I mean, it’s partly being here again, but it’s also …
” She pauses to take a breath. “I had something weird happen to me earlier tonight. I was jogging along the river road when this car almost barreled into me. The driver was probably texting or something, but the car swerved so close that I had to throw myself into a ditch. I completely scraped up my knee. But the whole way back home I kept thinking about how you never know in life. One moment you’re here and the next something can come at you out of nowhere and that’s …
it. I don’t understand how Reed and Tessa …
they were just here. I had my arm tucked in hers, on this path, as we walked up to the party.
How can someone be and then just not be?
Especially a force like Tessa. It’s like, on one hand, I know she’s gone, but then I also can’t understand it at all.
Like it’s all a big joke and they’ll show up tomorrow and we can laugh about it. ”
Everyone else stares at her, silent. But not me.
“Oh, Tilly.” I step close, wanting with every fiber of my body to wrap my arms around her.
But I can’t. “I’m here,” I offer instead, just like I was here through her mom’s cancer treatments, or her many disastrous relationships that ended in broken hearts.
And like Tilly was here for me through my parents’ rocky divorce, or when I sobbed on my thirteenth birthday because we couldn’t afford a party that year.
I step closer, heart in a vise. I want to be here for her always.
But I only have nineteen days left. So instead, I vow to show up now, in every way I can. “I promise, Tills.”
Tilly doesn’t hear me, of course. No one does.
There’s a shuffling beside me, and I realize that’s not entirely true.
Someone hears, and that someone slips his hand into mine.
When I glance up at him, at the pain behind his eyes, I know he feels it, too, the pressing ache of wanting things to be different—the bone-deep desire to reach out and hold them, our friends, even oddball Kevin, with his inappropriate morbid jokes.
Everyone takes off for the front door. Yannick and Jenny giggle as they try to pry it open before all falling inside in a tumble.
Tilly flips on her cell flashlight to illuminate their path.
Kevin looks giddy, like he’s stepped into his favorite horror movie.
Brandon and Kira marvel at the wooden compass-rose design on the floor.
And then my breath catches because there’s us, standing in the hallway in a sliver of moonlight.
Reed’s in his maroon kitesurfing shirt beside me in my black lace dress, dark hair spilling out of my buns from all our sockey antics in the ballroom.
We can no longer see ourselves in mirrors, but here I am suddenly reflected back.
I was expecting a ghost, some echo of my former self, but instead there’s merely a girl, hair mussed, cheeks rosy, eyes inquisitive.
Tilly’s phone flashlight glides over us as she searches the room.
No one sees us. And it doesn’t appear that the Reed and Tessa from four days ago can see the Reed and me now.
Everyone here is caught in that other time.
We follow our four-days-ago selves as they wander after the others into the front parlor with its broken piano and plaster-cracked walls.
“This is the weirdest déjà vu experience I’ve ever had in my life.” Reed shakes his head, stunned.
It really is a kind of out-of-body experience, watching something that previously happened, occur all over again, word for word, days later.
Yannick throws down his blankets, Jenny makes a production out of lighting her candles, clearly enjoying her role as spirit medium.
Tilly shares about our Nepal travel dreams and Santiago plays his song for Reed.
It’s even more beautiful to hear again. I can’t believe Reed is skilled enough to play like that.
But the most fascinating thing of all is not watching the séance, which I was busy watching before.
It’s watching Reed. Not the Reed next to me, but the Reed from four days ago.
Whenever I’m lost staring at our friends, he seems to be staring at me.
Heat flushes my skin. I feel intensely aware of the boy standing beside me.
Is he watching me now as I watch him, watching me?
It’s enough to make my brain hurt. He shifts from one foot to the other, as if he knows what’s captured my attention and he’s not sure how he feels about it.
Does he really stare at me that much? To check I glance up, but he’s taking in the room, scowling as Kevin asks about our deaths.
Now I feel stupid. Maybe I’m misreading everything.
But then our four-days-ago selves are facing off, ignoring the séance happening around us, to argue about Brandon. Reed’s insisting I walk through him, and the way he steps closer to me … the tension feels undeniable.
“You look like you want to kill me,” I mumble, unsure how else to address the fact that the versions of us across the room seem about to throttle each other.
“Something like that.” His eyes follow the action as intently as mine.
“It’s funny … when you leaned toward me, it’s like you were almost going to …” I don’t finish the thought, doubt creeping back in. Almost going to kiss me, I think at him instead.
As the Reed across the room leans toward the other Tessa inside the séance circle, the Reed in front of me leans forward, too. “Like I was almost going to … what?” His eyes sparkle, daring me to finish the sentence.
My gaze flicks to his lips, betraying me.
From somewhere far away, the other Reed seethes, “Are you going to walk through him, or should I?” I don’t turn to follow that conversation.
I’m lost to the boy in front of me, distracted by the way his brows pull together in concentration, two sharp black lines, adding a kind of punctuation to his face, as if when he looks at you, he means it.
There are four very light freckles spilling across his nose, which I somehow never noticed before.
And his lashes—long, dark, and feathered—hover over a pair of eyes that burn into mine while he tries to ferret out my secrets.
Reed is revealing himself to me piece by piece, and it’s far more than I ever realized was there.
Just as I’m studying him, he’s studying me. And if there is one thing Reed and I know how to do, it’s study.
He ducks his head down, nose skimming mine, until he breathes against my mouth. “Almost …” he prompts.
His lips—so very close—are an excruciating promise.
I can no longer tell if he wants me to complete my thought, or if he’s referring to the almostness of this moment.
All our could bes are balancing on a knife’s edge.
We don’t have to subscribe to the prior versions of ourselves here, or fall into old patterns.
This could be something different. Something more. I want it to be more.
“Almost …” I repeat, whisper-quiet, as my lips brush, feather-light, against his.
He lets out a low sound in the back of his throat. His mouth is almost on mine. My heart is almost his. Almost. Almost, I chant. An incantation. A prayer. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything more.
My lips part in invitation. When he sighs against my mouth, my breath catches.
Please kiss me. Kiss me. My entire body is screaming. I’m a tuning fork newly struck, every part of me vibrating. I want your lips all over me. What are you waiting for?
Before I can second-guess myself, I step forward and grab two fistfuls of his shirt, pulling my body taut against his.
I can feel him smile against my mouth as I press myself to him.
My hands knot in his T-shirt, skimming the skin of his stomach.
He knows he has me wound up tight. His fingers flutter gently over my arms, tracing a path down to my wrists and back.
It’s everything I can do not to surrender entirely, but somehow in this moment, I can feel the competition building between us.
I will not be the first to give in. The distance between our lips is a fraction of an inch—a gap that somehow manages to feel both minuscule and canyon-wide.
Somewhere, far away, in some other universe, the other Reed has fallen to the floor along with Brandon. Everyone else has jumped to their feet. I can hear them tumbling over one another as the shutters knock against the siding and the candles blow out.
Maybe it’s the thrill of everyone racing out of the room, or of being back in time.
The rules keep bending and shifting here, and our relationship shifts right along with them.
Or maybe it’s the permission that comes with being plunged into darkness, but whatever was holding our careful composure in place snaps.
His lips are on mine, hot and urgent. My hands weave through his gorgeous hair, which I’ve wanted to run my fingers through countless times but always stopped myself. No more.
As our friends run down the garden path and out to the front gate, and the other Reed and Tessa brainstorm suspects, the Reed in front of me slips his fingers down my spine.
We stumble out of the room and into the foyer.
A light rain pings off the windows as the wind picks up speed.
We’re traveling blind, bumping into tables, laughing against each other’s mouths.
Too hungry for this moment to pause. Reed chucks his shirt onto the floor as his feet back against the stairwell and we fall onto the steps.
I run my hands along his chest, marveling at his skin soft and cool under my touch. He reaches for my hip, fingers dipping under the hem of my dress as he hitches my leg over his.
I gasp.
He freezes. “Is this … all right?” he whispers.
“Are you kidding?” I laugh, taking his face in my hands.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, and to you of all people, but yes.
This is more than okay. It’s perfect.” I kiss him slowly, savoring the moment, unsure how we got here exactly but not wanting it to end.
The rain is really falling now, pelting the roof, running down the windowpanes.
“God, I always knew we’d be great together if we ever got the chance,” he mumbles against my skin, trailing kisses down my neck.
“You did?” I catch his hand and lace my fingers through his.
“Tessa, you must have guessed.” He stops and leans his forehead against mine. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since the sixth grade. All those years watching you and Brandon, I just …”
I sit up. “What?” He can’t mean that. “You hated me.”
“No.” He smiles. “If I was an idiot, it’s only because I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was jealous as hell that Brandon got to know you in all the ways I wanted to.”
“But … you’ve had girlfriends.”
“Yeah, on and off. But they weren’t …” His cheeks flush in a rising pink tide. “They weren’t you.” He glances to the side, as if afraid he’s said too much.
I stare at him, open-mouthed, but no sound comes out.
I feel like a cavernous hole in the earth has swallowed me up.
All the shaky foundations I built my understanding of the last years on, suddenly gone.
Reed was my nemesis, gunning for valedictorian against me, spending his every waking moment trying to best me, embarrass me, annoy me. Not … win me.
He sits forward. “Did I freak you out?”
“No, it’s just …” I bring my eyes up to his, searching. All our past interactions are slotting into place in my mind with this whole new context. “I really thought you couldn’t stand me.”
He shakes his head, warm eyes alight. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hardheaded, stubborn, and completely infuriating sometimes. But the thing is, I like that about you. I guess I’m a big weirdo.” He shoots a sly grin my way.
“You are a big weirdo. Way weirder and more fun than I thought.” I wrote him off too soon before. I lost all this time I could have had with him. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner, that I didn’t really see you sooner. I think we could have—”
“Been great together,” he finishes for me.
“So great,” I confirm. We’re beaming at each other now. “Maybe we still can be.” I shrug. Then, to prove my point, I pull his mouth back to mine. Back where it belongs.
We kiss endlessly. On the staircase. Through a rainstorm. Suspended in time.
Brandon never kissed me the way Reed is kissing me now—like he’s drowning and I’m his only salvation.
We pour ourselves into the moment.
I love all the new ways I get to know him—the low, happy sounds he makes in the back of his throat, or how he runs his lips along my jaw, whispering about the times he wished we’d done this before.
I even love how we crack ourselves up over the dorky, awkward ways we bump into and maneuver around each other.
I can’t help wondering, how far does this go? How far do I want it to go? Because right now I feel ready to tear my clothes off and say, Yes, you and me together like this forever, please and thank you.
Only we don’t get forever. We only get these few perfect moments.
My heart squeezes at the notion. Then Reed nips at my mouth, swallowing my tiny gasp in return, and my thoughts fracture all over again.
My lips are swollen as the storm ebbs and the first streaks of morning light stream through the windows.
“We should go back in time more often.” I laugh, slowly coming to my senses, realizing the other Reed and Tessa will be heading out to the police precinct in not too long.
“Yeah, can you imagine if we—” Reed pops up beside me and pulls the phone out of his pocket. “Oh my God, I can’t believe we didn’t think of it.” He’s on his feet.
“Think of what?” I ask.
He thrusts the phone at me. “Tessa, we need to set the clock back and find out how we died.”