Chapter 25
twenty-five
Chris
Surprisingly, it’s Percy’s idea to go for a joyride down the Michigan expressway as fast and as far as we can get before our current time loop resets. Well, okay— he’d wanted to test the boundaries of the time loop’s influence and see if greater distance might disrupt or dilute its effects.
Doing it by traveling at eighty down the expressway is all me.
I’m in the passenger seat, Percy in the back behind me.
Quinn perches behind the wheel, her sunglasses up on her forehead and her sequined yellow blouse pooling around her like liquid sunshine.
Inviting her along today had also been my idea.
There was a ready-enough excuse—this was her car, after all.
But that wasn’t the real reason. I could’ve stolen the keys out of her room if I’d wanted to, or hell, just asked to borrow them.
Knowing Quinn, she’d have handed them to me with a smile, no questions asked.
But after spending the better part of the last dozen iterations alone with Percy, the truth is, I need a break.
Not because I’m getting sick of him—far from it.
I’ve never felt closer to him, even when we were dating.
He’s confided in me like he never has before about his family and how much he worries about being the perfect son, especially in his mom’s echoing absence.
And there are parts of me—like my writing—I realize only now that I’d kept back from him as well, wary of letting him see the real me.
Compared to our endlessly repeating day, however, all those insecurities start to seem a lot less significant.
Why bother with such things when you’re trapped within some strange twist of the cosmos, unsure if you’re going insane or will ever wake up from your eternal dream?
It makes it easier to be vulnerable—to talk about the things that really matter—when you’re forced to confront the fleeting nature of existence.
It’s wonderful and glorious but also frightening because, sooner or later, I know it’s bound to end.
The time loop will fade, or we’ll find a way to break it, or we’ll piss each other off so much we stop talking all over again.
Either way, things will go back to how they’d been before—to the awkward stiltedness that was all that had remained of our crumbled relationship.
Because, in the end, none of this is real.
Such thoughts plague me as I stare out the passenger window listening to Quinn’s music blare over the speakers.
We’ve been driving for hours now—long enough we’ve already had to stop once to refuel, and the sun is past its zenith, falling into late afternoon.
Some of the trip passed with us chatting about nothing consequential or sharing stories with Quinn from our past incarnations.
But for most of it, Percy’s been as quiet as I have.
I wonder what’s going through his head and glance up at the dashboard mirror to catch a glimpse of his mop of brown hair in the back. Does he feel similarly torn by the conflicting desires to get as close as possible and run as far away as he can at the same time?
Averting my eyes, I sink deeper into my seat, playing absently with the AC vent in front of me. Hardly likely. Unlike me, Percy isn’t foolish enough to get attached to a daydream.
I shift again, suddenly needing some air. “Can you pull over at the next rest stop?” I ask Quinn.
Her eyes flick to me, assessing. It’s been less than two hours since our last stop, and we’ve still got plenty of drinks and snacks stashed in the back. I look away as she shrugs. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
To my relief, she doesn’t ask for more of an explanation, and ten minutes later, we’re pulling over into a gas station.
The car’s barely slowed to a stop before I throw myself out the door.
I feel Percy’s eyes burning a hole in my back as I flee to the convenience store.
As soon as I’m inside, I hide in the candy aisle and take a moment to collect myself.
Christ, I’m acting like an idiot. How much time have Percy and I spent together these last few days, most of it more intimate than this?
My mind flashes back to the adventure park—to the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, my chest pressed to his—and I clench my jaw.
Nothing is happening between us. Nothing is going to happen between us.
Even if I wanted it to (which I don’t), the asshole abandoned me.
He betrayed my trust. He discarded me when I needed him most, just like everyone else.
Because his mom was dying. Because he was hurting. Because he was scared and confused and didn’t know what to do.
Oh, yeah? And what about the two years since? What about his obvious reluctance even now to accept his sexuality? No, fuck that. Hoping for more than fleeting friendship is a fool’s errand.
Which is why it’s good I don’t. Why it’s amazing that I never sit up at night, imagining his fingertips ghosting across my skin, or the firm press of his lips to mine, or the way his azure eyes glint when they catch the light, or the warmth of his laugh when it burbles out against his will, surprising even him.
Yeah. Good thing I don’t think about any of that.
The attendant behind the counter is giving me strange looks by the time I pull myself together and peruse the aisles. I’m too distracted to process what’s there, so I grab a random bag of chips and a candy bar to avoid returning empty-handed.
I pass Quinn as I’m exiting the shop. She shoves past with a breezy “Bathroom!” in explanation. I blink, eyes tracking her. She hadn’t seemed rushed only a couple minutes ago. Shaking my head, I start toward the car…and slow my steps when I see Percy standing outside, shuffling his feet.
His gaze flicks up, meeting mine before quickly looking away. He gives me a little wave, and my heart flutters even as my stomach drops. Damn you, Quinn. This is a setup. I don’t know if Percy asked to talk to me or if this was Quinn’s idea, but I suspect she’s going to be taking her sweet time.
Briefly, I consider waiting for her or even retreating inside, but I stop myself, gritting my teeth.
This is ridiculous. There’s no reason to run away from Percy.
He’s a friend, like Quinn—that’s all. There’s nothing else there.
And if I sometimes picture him naked, well, so sue me.
What self-respecting gay guy wouldn’t fantasize about their hot nerdy ex trapped in a time loop with them? It doesn’t mean anything.
Schooling my emotions, I try to project confidence as I cross the otherwise deserted parking lot, fixing Percy with a smile I’m pretty sure is more akin to a grimace. He looks a heartbeat away from bolting himself when I reach the car. I stop a couple feet away and lean against the car’s hood.
Neither of us speaks for a long moment. Then, I sigh, dropping my act. “Was there a point to this intervention, or are you trying to make us both die from awkwardness overload?”
Percy’s cheeks flush, but at least he stops shuffling and meets my eyes. “I thought we should talk. Quinn agreed.”
I cross my arms. “Of course, she did. About what?”
“About why you’re acting like this.”
“Like what?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. You’ve been withdrawn and moody all day.”
I scowl. “I’m not moody!”
Instead of shrinking back like I expect, he cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Then, what would you call the way you’ve been ignoring both of us to sit in sullen silence?”
“I’m not ignoring you.” My eyes flick away, and I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “It’s just…”
He takes a step toward me, and my body reacts involuntarily to his nearness, my skin tingling as if it yearns to be pressed against his. “Just what?” he asks softly. “Come on, Chris. You know you can talk to me.” He chuckles darkly. “Who else have we got right now, if not each other?”
I think he means the words to be comforting, but instead, they stab into me like jagged shards. He makes it sound like he resents our proximity. Like the only reason he’d even consider spending time with me is that the universe didn’t give him a choice.
Not that I have any high ground to stand on.
We’d both lived through that first Saturday before either of us knew the time loop existed and seen how disastrously it would have gone without the universe’s intervention.
We’d have woken up on Sunday, ignored each other during the ferry ride back, and then never spoken again.
Once upon a time, that outcome would have seemed inevitable. Now, it fills me with melancholy. What happens when all this ends and we return to our normal lives? Do we go back to being virtual strangers? Friends who say hi when our paths cross on campus?
“Is any of this actually real?” I whisper. Percy doesn’t answer. I can’t bring myself to look at his face, so I focus on his chest instead and notice the way his body has stilled. I hate how my voice quavers when I add, “Does any of this matter to you?” Do I matter to you?
“Chris.”
Percy’s voice comes out strangled, and my eyes flick up to see his face pained.
He takes another step toward me, and he’s so close now we’re practically pressed together.
Part of me wants to slide back to put some much-needed distance between us.
Another part wants to close those last few inches and press my lips to his, damn the consequences.
I do neither, remaining perfectly still as he tentatively raises a hand, his fingers hovering over my cheek.
His eyes are wide, pupils dilated. I’m frozen, unable to do anything but wait with bated breath for his next move.
Delicately, so light it could almost be the chill October wind, his fingertips brush my cheek.
I close my eyes, shifting my head to lean into the touch.