Prologue #2
“My turn.” Kate hoists herself onto Colin’s lap, and he gives a loud oof despite her being generally twiggish.
Plucking the solid wax from the surface, I chuck it over my shoulder, and tip the candle a second time.
Kate’s wax forms on top of the water and I scrunch my nose.
“It says your future husband will leave you over your misguided crush on Channing Tatum and you’ll spend your old age alone writing Magic Mike fanfic. ”
She fake gasps, then snort-laughs. “I’ll negotiate the house in the divorce, right?”
“Obviously.”
Colin groans and they lock eyes, grinning at each other.
It’s like watching a ship go down, slowly and inevitably.
I’ve seen this before—Kate with her claws in someone.
Kate sees, she wants, she takes. All the years I’ve known her, I’ve never stopped wondering what that must be like.
Probably like jumping from a cliff with cement blocks for feet.
“Is there a fee?”
I look up to find the guy from before standing beside my shoulder, grinning at me. The rest of the party may as well have poofed out of existence. All I can see is him.
“A fee for what?” I manage, more than a little mesmerized.
“For the fortune telling.”
Those moody brown eyes lock onto mine, and now that he’s closer, I notice they’re slightly asymmetrical.
His right eyelid is heavier, hooded where the left one isn’t.
It’s something only a person who’s been taught to draw faces would notice—a perfect imperfection—and my fingers subconsciously mime the pencil stroke I would use to sketch it.
“Oh. Um… yes, actually.” My drink has been lost to the game, so I point to the makeshift bar tucked into the corner of the rooftop. “A shot gets you one reading.”
His grin widens, flashing a straight white smile, and my belly dunks like a duck into water.
“What’s your poison?”
“Uh…” I blurt out the first bottle I spot on the bar: “J?ger.”
Oh, God. My stomach preemptively turns at the horrible decision I’ve just made, but I’m not the type of person who has a drink order at the ready. Especially not a shot.
“Your hangover,” he says, shaking his head and laughing. “I’ll be right back.”
Kate’s jaw hinges open as the stranger steps away. “Do you know him?”
I shake my head.
“Hottie.”
Colin makes a noise in the back of his throat like a snort and my cheeks burn, feeling called out in the worst way. Like I’ve let some secret slip that could make me look foolish.
“He’s here with someone,” I reply. It’s silly, the deep disappointment when I say it out loud. It’s not like I was going to do anything about it even if he wasn’t.
He returns with my shot, and I down it quickly, hoping the burn will dull this weird tingly feeling in my blood.
“What’s your name?” I ask him as he takes the seat across from me.
“Jamie Bishop.”
“Okay, Jamie. I’m Noel. Remember, you have to be open to it.” I wiggle my fingers over the candle, making the flame jump. “You know, let the spirits in.”
He nods, eyes suddenly serious.
“Is there anything specific you want to know about?” I ask like I’m not just going to make up something ridiculous for the sake of the game.
“No. Just, ah, whatever in general.” Long, comma-shaped dimples carve into his cheeks when he gives me as lightly- nervous smile. I get the feeling he might actually believe in this, which is kind of cute.
I twist my long hair over one shoulder and lean forward, grasping the jar near the bottom to keep from burning my fingers while playing psychic. Slowly, I raise it just over the cup of water and let it hover.
Kate has moved to my couch to let Jamie sit across from me and I hear her snicker.
“Are you ready to see your future?” I ask in a creepy, mystical voice.
Jamie’s Adam’s apple bobs and he nods once.
I tip the candle, watching the wax pool at the edge, then drip over the side, but the J?ger must hit me at the exact same time because my head rushes, stars appearing behind my eyelids. I blink them back.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Fine.” I cast my eyes back to the water. The wax is still shifting shapes oddly.
Why hasn’t it formed yet? There must have been some beer left in the cup. Kate’s right. It’s messing with the buoyancy or whatever.
I clear my throat to tell him it’s not working but then it’s as if someone grabs my chin to redirect my attention away from this table. Here, it says. Listen.
But I don’t hear it, I feel it. Like a nagging hunch stirring in the back of my brain.
“Are you worried about money?”
I immediately regret asking it. First, it’s an incredibly rude question, and second, I have no idea why I’m even entertaining the idea that I might know something about him. We’re playing a game.
Jamie sits up straighter, cocking an eyebrow.
“I think you’re supposed to turn down a job,” I blurt.
What the hell? It’s like someone has injected information straight into my brain, translating what’s barely a gut feeling and spitting it out as words.
Jamie blinks at me, his full lower lip slowly separating from his top until he’s slack-jawed.
“Do you know what that means?” It’s clear from his face and the way he’s gone mute that he does. My pulse takes off in a sprint.
Kate is looking at me now, concern all over her face. It’s the right reaction. I’m acting unhinged, giving this man career advice based on whispers in my drunken brain.
That has to be what’s happening. It’s the J?ger. What is it they say? Beer before liquor, never been sicker. Maybe there’s more to that than just the likelihood of vomiting. Maybe it makes you say crazy things to people you should have just walked away from.
“You know what? This was a bad idea,” I say, reaching for the candle to blow it out. Whatever I’ve tapped into, I want it gone.
“Wait.” Jamie wraps his fingers around my wrist, and before I can extinguish the flame, a picture flashes so vividly in my head that for a moment I think I’ve been dreaming this whole time and I’m just now waking up.
It’s the blonde he’s here with, sprawled out in something scant and lacy and definitely not meant for my eyes.
I pull in a startled breath and my nostrils fill with the scent of perfume and sex. It’s so strong, my cheeks burn in second-hand embarrassment.
Jamie’s fingers still circle my wrist and I yank it back, gaping at him. My instant reaction is to warn him to keep his brain PG while we’re doing this, but what the hell does that mean? That’s not even how this works.
I mean, it doesn’t work, because it’s a game, but the game is to seethe future, not read someone’s horny thoughts.
God, I hope Nana couldn’t read my teenage mind all of the times she did this with me and Kate.
I’m deep in that mortifying thought when a wave of emotion hits me square in the chest. But it’s not a vague inkling like before. This time my heart feels like it’s cracking down the middle. I have no idea what I’m feeling but it’s so strong, tears come to my eyes.
And then I see it, playing somewhere in my brain like a movie I didn’t buy a ticket for. The blonde again, her head tipped back in pleasure, and there’s a new problem. It’s very clearly not Jamie she’s under.
What the hell is happening?
I crush my palms into my eyes, trying to rub away the sight, but it doesn’t work. It’s there every time I blink, and I don’t know how to make it stop. “Shit.”
“Noel,” Kate says at the same time Jamie asks, “What is it?”
Colin sits up straighter, and I pretend to scratch my forehead, discreetly pointing over Jamie’s shoulder with my pinky. “Um, the woman you’re here with. She’s your girlfriend?”
Jamie turns to look at her and the wariness on his face flashes briefly to the kind of smile any woman would be happy to have pointed at her. My stomach descends another floor. “That’s Becca.” He lowers his voice. “I’m thinking about proposing. Thought maybe you could tell me how it’s going to go.”
Oh. Guess I misread the flirty eye thing from before. Foolish, Noel.
That’s the least of my problems, though, considering what I just saw. This game isn’t fun anymore. Nana’s supposed fortune-telling was basic and vague. If you wanted to believe, you could find away. This is really freaking detailed, and I have no idea where it’s coming from.
What I do know is I don’t want any part of it.
My hands are shaking, stomach sour. Jamie can tell I’m stalling, and whatever hopeful awe he had quickly slides off his face. “Shit,” he mutters.
“I think we should stop.” I get to my feet and so does Jamie.
Colin stands too, saying something to Kate, and tension ratchets in my chest. The last thing I want is to be the reason for a scene. My mother makes scenes. I avoid them.
It’s obvious Jamie doesn’t share that inclination, though. He doesn’t even bother to lower his voice. “Noel, wait. Just… tell me.”
Oh, damn it. I want to ignore it, tell him I haven’t seen anything at all because I’d like to believe that myself, but I can’t. Not knowing what I know about the unfairness of a thing like this. The way love can absolutely ruin a person when it implodes.
“She’s um… Becca, she’s um.” God, how do I explain this? “I’m sorry. I think maybe there’s something she’s not telling you.” I shove my thumbnail between my teeth. “I’m sorry.”
“Holy shit.” He pushes a hand beneath his hat, rubbing his head.
I need to get out of here. This is too much. I reach for my coat.
“Noel,” he says, rounding the table so we’re face to face. “Hold on, just… Please.”
I stop, my heart in my throat. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. What if I’m wrong because this is insane?
But I also know I’m not wrong. Like I’ve never known anything else.
“I thought this was a joke,” he whispers.
“It was.”
He glances at Becca, then back to me, eyes desperate. “Are you sure?”
I’ve already said enough. It’s time for me to go, but he’s blocking my exit. I put my hand on his elbow to slide past him and nearly whimper when I realize my mistake. I’ve touched him again and the stars are back behind my eyelids. Then a new picture.