Chapter 28
twenty-eight
Percy
I hesitate outside Chris’ door, knuckles hovering over the wood to knock. It’s hard to believe last night actually happened—that it wasn’t some stress-fueled hallucination.
What if Chris doesn’t remember? What if I open this door and everything’s back to how it was before?
The thought freezes the blood in my veins, sending a tremor through my entire body. I think if he forgot it all—if everything we’d shared last night had been swept away on the tides of time—it might break me.
Not that there’s any reason to think that would happen. I mean, sure, we’re dealing with some crazy temporal phenomenon neither of us understands. But so far, we’d both proved immune to forgetting. There’s no reason that should change because we’d been…intimate.
But logical or not, it doesn’t stop the fear gnawing at my gut.
Yesterday had been perfect. I mean, okay, most of the day had been anxious anticipation, and dinner had sucked.
But that enchanted carriage ride around town with some guy who’d remembered my parents?
Sunset Rock and the Aurora Borealis? The shared kisses and then the more that followed, falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms?
I hadn’t felt so at peace since…well, definitely since my mom died. Maybe ever. For once, I hadn’t worried about presenting myself in a certain way or agonized over what others thought of me. Enveloped by Chris’ passion, the emotion so raw and real, there’d been no doubt.
Yet still, my treacherous hand hesitates. I sigh at my own absurdity and, forcing down my out-of-control nerves, rap on the door.
It opens barely five seconds later to reveal Chris standing there, the black bangs hanging over his eyes still damp from a shower and a towel draped loosely around his lean hips.
I blush and run my fingers nervously through my hair as his eyes sweep over me.
What will he think now that the night’s over?
Will he regret what we did? Try to act like it never happened?
Relief floods me when his eyes light up and his full lips break into a wide grin. He’s happy to see me. Thank fuck.
“Morning,” I say, my voice coming out a bit rough. I bite my lip, and his eyes immediately hone in on the gesture, darkening with desire.
“Morning,” he replies just as huskily. We stand there for a moment, him staring at my lips, me staring at him staring, until he finally raises his eyes to meet mine. “Welp,” he says, breaking the silence with a grin. “I guess our experiment failed.”
Though he says the words jokingly, something in me tightens at the declaration.
Experiment. Right. That had been the whole point of last night, hadn’t it?
To see if the universe wanted us together.
We’re not actually trying to build a lasting relationship here—everything we have is fleeting.
Temporary. I’d do well to remember that if I want to avoid getting hurt.
Still. There’s nothing imaginary about the hungry way Chris is eyeing me, nor the way my body heats up in response.
No matter how nervous I am about last night, I can’t pretend our connection had been due to nothing but a shared commitment to science.
Just because this is temporary doesn’t mean it can’t be real for now.
Shoving aside my doubts, I return his grin. “I mean, I don’t know if I’d call it a total failure just because we proved love wasn’t the answer.” Chris’ eyebrows shoot up, and it takes me a moment to realize what I’d said. A furious blush coats my cheeks. “Um, that is, I mean…”
His grin widens, and he takes pity on me, stepping in closer. His face hovers only inches away. “I don’t know,” he says, his eyes smoldering. “I remain unconvinced.”
“Oh, yeah?” I swallow. “What do you propose?”
His lips ghost over mine, and I bite back a groan. His hands creep around my waist to cup my ass. My cock gives a little jump. We’re still in the hallway, where any of our classmates might see, but I can’t quite bring myself to care.
“I think our hypothesis demands further testing.” His hands roam over my back and around to my sides. He rolls his hips, his hardness rubbing against mine with nothing but his towel to conceal it. “You know?” he whispers. “For science.”
I can’t hold back any longer. I shove my lips to his in a furious kiss, and he responds just as desperately.
Our hands are everywhere, both of us groping the other as if each touch might be our last. Somehow, we manage to stumble into his room in a tangle of limbs.
One of us—I’m not sure which—slams the door in our wake as we move toward his bed.
I shed my clothing as we go, and he shoves me onto the mattress, climbing on top.
I stare up at him, reveling at how hot and naked and utterly aroused he is.
Then, all that bare flesh is pressed against me as he leans down, kissing my mouth, my cheek, my neck. I buck up into him with a loud moan as his mouth moves to my chest, then lower. Lower. Lower. Until—
Until there’s once again only him and me. Until I lose myself in his touch, laughing and kissing and groaning with abandon. Until my slip-up earlier (love) no longer seems like a mistake after all, even if I’d never admit it out loud.
Because of course I love Chris. I have for a long time. Even when I distanced myself from him, I never stopped loving him. And from the way he’s feathering me with soft kisses and worshiping my body with his eyes, hands, and tongue, I suspect he never stopped loving me, either.
Not that love was ever our problem. No matter what love still exists between us, it doesn’t change the reality of our situation.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give Chris what he needs, what he deserves.
And I can’t stand the thought of letting him down again.
What’s happening now is a reprieve—the equivalent of a vacation from real life.
But as I shudder and arch against him, fusing with him to become one, I resolve to set that harsh truth aside for as long as I can. To focus on the now for once in my life and enjoy this before it’s gone forever.
I worry things will be awkward after, but like last night, our interactions remain light and playful. I’m a little surprised Chris isn’t freaking out more. He must be rationalizing everything as much as I am. I don’t dare ask for fear of ruining this fragile thing between us.
We shower together (Chris grumbling about having to clean again), and it feels like old times. I marvel at how easy it is to slip into our familiar roles as if the last two years had never happened. We barely stop touching—a soft kiss here, a gentle caress there—until we make it out of his room.
It’s later than usual when we arrive downstairs—only a few minutes before Oshkoff expects us outside.
Still, we’ve got enough time to grab a quick breakfast from the cafe before we deal with her.
Usually, I’d be worried about the sheer volume of sweets I’ve been consuming, but that’s another perk of being trapped in an infinite day—no need to watch your sugar intake.
Owen is his usual glowering self behind the counter when I order.
Maybe it’s temporary insanity brought on by my good mood, but I clear my throat.
“So…” I start, not entirely sure how to continue.
Owen keeps angrily mixing my chai latte without acknowledging me.
I try again. “I know it’s been a while, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends and hang out like we used to. ”
Owen slams the milk jug down harder than necessary, the liquid sloshing around. He doesn’t reply.
I bite back a sigh. This is a fool’s errand, but now that I’ve resolved to give it a shot, I don’t want to give up that easily. Besides, if it goes horribly or embarrasses me, it’s not like it’ll last. Tomorrow will offer another clean slate to try again—or not, depending on my mood.
The thought bolsters me enough to get out the words I’ve been holding back. “Seriously, Owen, what gives? You must have heard what happened to my mom, so you know why I stayed away. It’s not fair for you to hold that against me.”
“Fair?” Owen tenses, his hands clenching the edge of the counter.
He keeps his back to me, and I realize his whole body is shuddering.
At first, I think he might be crying, but then he spins toward me, his jaw clenched and his eyes furious.
“Fair? Nothing about my life is fair. The thought of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me going. At least someone cared. But then you never came!”
I blink, taken aback by the venom in his voice. He’s clutching a scoop so tightly, I worry he might hurl it at me like a weapon. “Owen…what—?”
“I tried to call you, you know,” he says, and my words catch in my throat. “Do you even remember? I must’ve called over a dozen times, and when that didn’t work, I tried texting and emailing. Fuck, I even sent you a message in that dumb game you love so much. You never responded.”
Shit. Shame washes over me as I realize what he’s talking about.
That would have been in the middle of the worst of it with my mom.
I’d spent every minute I could at the hospital playing games with her, or listening to her talk, or simply sitting and reading by her bedside.
I’d ignored pretty much everything that summer, barely speaking to anyone except my dad, my mom, and her nurses.
Owen must have been one of the many things that slipped through the cracks.
Not that I’d been that great at keeping in touch before then.
Had I ever spoken to him outside of our summer trips?
I honestly can’t remember. Judging by the way he’s glaring at me, his eyes moist and his face scrunched with hurt, our friendship had meant the world to him…
and I’d hardly given him a second thought.
God, what sort of asshole did that make me?
“I’m sorry I never replied,” I say, feeling like the worst human being alive. “There was a lot happening, and I—”