Chapter 26 Dead
Reed and his family shoot down to their house, leaving me shivering on their neighbor’s lawn, feeling like one of Ursula’s shriveled-up worm victims in The Little Mermaid.
My fingers dig into the edges of my stolen For Sale sign, like if I will it hard enough, the thing will remold itself into a makeshift dress.
What now?
I’ve got nothing. Systems truly down.
Why? Why did he have to come around the corner? Why did I have to test this creepy fucking journal with his address? Note to self: Test foreign magical teleportation object with a control address before attempting to leap through space across the country.
I literally could have written down Jordyn’s apartment! I could have gone fifty feet and walked right back to my door.
What the hell am I going to say? I never got to parse out my feelings via journal. And he’s going to ask why I’m naked! This is bad. This is so bad.
Should I just stick to the plan? Run to the red house? Get the fuck out of here. Figure out an explanation later.
“Do you need us to call the police?”
I yelp, falling out of my crouch and onto my naked ass, clutching the sign against my front. There’s grass in my ass.
“Oh no! You don’t need to call anyone,” I say, quickly scrambling to my feet. “I’m fine. This is just a silly miscommunication that got out of hand.”
Reed’s mom. She’s back. I can see the resemblance now. She’s fifteen feet away, under the nearest lamppost, with a large red-and-black plaid Sherpa blanket draped over her arm, approaching cautiously like I’m a rabid animal.
“Are you sure you don’t need medical attention? Are you all right?” she says gently.
I nod adamantly. How do I say I’m not hurt, I’m a naked teleporting stalker, without ruining my potential relationship with her son? “Yes, I am so fine! I am all good. So good. Excellent. Thank you! I’m so sorry to interrupt your night,” I squawk. “Thank you for your help.”
She accepts this with a slow nod. “Can I wrap you up?”
“Yes, please, that would be wonderful.”
His mom moves forward, spreading the blanket and expanding her arms for a second before engulfing me in it via bear hug. I drop the sign, but my hand clutching the journal ends up smashed up against my butt as Reed’s mother burritos me tight and vigorously rubs my arms.
She holds my eyes, studying my face. Hers are a deeper blue than her son’s but just as bright. Like the feathers of a blue jay.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” I squeak. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Tyler nods hesitantly one more time. “All right. Reed’s waiting for me to give the okay that I’ve wrapped you up. I’ll let you chat. If there’s anything you’d feel more comfortable speaking to a woman about, my name’s Michelle. I’ll be right inside.”
“Thank you—that’s so kind. I’m fine, though.” I move to raise my arm to give her a thumbs-up, but it’s straitjacketed to my side.
The second she disappears behind the landscaping dividing the houses, I take off, waddling toward the red house. Stick to the plan.
I proceed to almost immediately fall to my death via the curb into the street. As luck would have it, I manage to extract an arm and stay upright via frantic flailing. Keep moving. I do my best to loosen my blanket restraints without letting the entire thing fall off my body.
I make it to the next lawn. One more to the red house.
“Rikki?” I hear Reed’s voice behind me.
Shit.
I take off faster, causing the blanket to fan out behind me like a cape. This is the stupidest thing that’s ever happened to me. I switch tactics, pulling the fabric up over my head like a cave troll.
Now you can’t confirm I’m even Rikki!
“Rikki!” Reed yells. “Where are you going?”
I don’t know. What’s the new plan? I clearly can’t stop at the red house now. He’ll just catch up.
The intersection is looming.
I’ll breeze by the red house and hang a left. I’ll lose him! If I do, maybe I can gaslight him into thinking he never saw me and I, too, have a twin? I could have a twin.
I glance over my shoulder as I round the corner: rookie escape artist mistake. A millisecond later I’m falling over a bush and into the street.
My hand not clutching both journal and blanket lets go of its grip to break my fall against the pavement. I grimace as shards of gravel shove into my open palm. Stupid fucking gravity.
“Rikki! Shit!” Reed’s voice. “Are you okay?”
I feel insane. “I’m fine!”
Before I can push to my feet, Reed’s hands are on my torso, helping me from behind, pulling the blanket back up over my shoulders. I stand and hastily secure it under my chin. I don’t even know where to begin processing what has just occurred.
Reed appears in front of me, wide eyed with concern, hands stretched out like he’s going to touch me, but he must think better of it because he pulls his arms back and folds his hands behind his head, highlighting his biceps instead.
They strain against the long sleeves of the black button-up he’s wearing.
“Rikki, seriously, are you okay?” He says each word slowly. With feeling, like I’ve been in a car accident, and I’ve suffered a brain injury.
“Reed, I’m fine!” I blink at his arms, too chickenshit at the moment to look him in the eye. What do I say? What’s an uncrazy thing to say? Why am I naked? Why am I here? Don’t you dare look at him until you have an idea!
“You don’t seem fine,” Reed says. “You’re . . . nude.”
Of course I’m nude! I couldn’t magically teleport clothed like a normal person! That would be too easy.
I remain silent, pleading with my brain for a reasonable excuse. You can do this. Think!
“Rikki?”
I snap my gaze to his. “I was streaking.” It comes out matter-of-factly and much more confident than I was expecting.
“You were . . . streaking?” he repeats.
I guess I’m a streaker now.
“Yes? It’s a hobby. People do it. I just turned thirty. It’s time to try new things before I die.”
“You’re making streaking your new hobby?” he asks pointedly.
“Yeah. I love naked-ing publicly.”
“On my street?”
“Every street. I don’t discriminate against streets.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not in some kind of trouble?”
“Are you streak shaming me?”
Reed bites down a grin. “Do you need help? Are you hurt?”
“Nah, I’m all good. Just having a weird night.”
That sentence comes out casual, like this is a normal thing that would normally happen to a normal person on any normal, weird night.
Reed blinks at me, utterly nonplussed. “Why did you run?”
Ah, great question. Working on that one myself. I was going to try to lose you and pretend this never happened.
Do I tell him the truth? I should try the truth.
I raise my hand, clutching the notebook. “Okay.” I suck in a deep breath. “This is going to sound wild but hear me out, remember this j—”
I choke, keeling over as my windpipe squeezes shut. Holy. I glare at the journal as I wheeze like a dying man.
Once I can breathe, I straighten, hold it out, and try again. “This j—”
I have to brace myself against a fire hydrant as another painful bout of spasms racks though my lungs. So that gag-order thing is real.
“Jesus, Rikki. Are you all right?” A pleasant shiver runs through me as his hand lands on my shoulder.
I heave in a clear, blissful breath, and straighten, turning back to him. “Sorry, what were we talking about?”
He studies me for a beat before dropping his hand. “Why did you run after my mom gave you the blanket?”
I press my lips together for a moment. “Remember that heart you sent after the beach?”
“Yes?”
“I was not expecting that.”
Reed closes his eyes. Presses his thumb and pointer finger into his forehead. “What?”
“I didn’t text back at the time because it threw me after a second date. I got suspicious. Sus, if you will. You know how the kids say sus.”
“We all say sus.”
“I wasn’t sure if it was like an I actually like you a lot heart emoticon or just like, an I’m trying to get you to think that I like you a lot, but in actuality I want to break the pact and have sex with you then ghost manipulative heart emoticon—nowadays you just never know with a heart emoticon.
You know? Hearts. Emoticons. You get what I’m saying about the heart?
What do you think? Was it a nice heart or like a diabolical heart?
I’ve been really losing sleep over this heart. ”
Reed opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I’m babbling like a Chihuahua that’s been gifted the power of speech, so I really can’t blame him.
A breeze hits my chest a little too intimately, and I glance down to find that the blanket has slipped, and my right boob is out. “Shit.” I reposition the blanket.
Reed throws his face toward the sky.
“Sorry, my boob was out. I didn’t mean to—I’m not trying to be naked.”
“I thought you were streaking.”
“I was.”
“Isn’t that by definition trying to be naked?”
“That was before. Now the streaking is over.”
His face is still tilted toward the sky.
“You can drop your face now.”
He shakes his head, bemused as he meets my eyes.
“I am so confused . . . Do you need clothes? Are you okay? Didn’t you need a phone?
Can I offer you shelter? Can we take this conversation inside?
My house is right there.” He points down the road.
“You keep saying you’re fine, but you don’t . . . really seem it?”
I throw my shoulders back, gripping the notebook carefully as I knot the too-long blanket-dress over my chest. “Well, Reed, I really am fine. But yes, clothes might be helpful.”
“That was not a manipulative heart.”
I nod. “Good. You always gotta check. It’s the only way.”
Reed peers at me, confusion still etched into every aspect of his face as we start shuffling in the direction of his house. “So . . . you’re in LA, and you didn’t text.”
“Yet,” I clarify. “I didn’t text yet. I was in the process of texting.”
“You thought first you’d give streaking a go?”
“No . . .” I look up at him, face burning. “I lost a bet.”
Reed tilts his head. “And what was the bet?”
What was the bet, Rikki? I swallow at the dryness coating my throat. “A bet with my cousin. The one whose husband we found back at the beginning of the month.”
He nods. “Go on.”
I focus on the sidewalk ahead of us, pulling together pieces of truth to forge a more well-rounded lie.
“We were playing Ping-Pong in her garage, and she knew I was thinking about reaching out to you because I got your chapter, and she suggested—if she won I’d have to streak down your street.
And if I won, I’d be done giving them couples therapy unless they wanted to start paying me. ”
Reed’s mouth stretches into a disbelieving smile. “What?”
“I’ve been giving her and her husband, the one who went missing, free couples therapy sessions.”
“Why was her bet so much more savage than yours?”
I shrug. “I have older-sister syndrome with her. I don’t ever want her life to be difficult.”
“Do you have your things hidden out here somewhere?”
“Things?”
“Your clothes and stuff?”
“Oh, no . . . I was dropped off with nothing . . . and she left.”
Reed arches a single brow. “What kind of person is your cousin?”
I snort. “The kind that pushes you into traffic if you’re afraid to cross the street.”
A laugh barks out of him. “With nothing but a journal to document your experience? I can’t believe you got out of the car. How un–control freak of you.”
“Yeah.” I hold up the journal and wave it guiltily. “What can I say? Always trying to work on my flaws.”
His mouth resets into a smirk as we start moving toward the house again. “She casually shows up naked after three weeks of radio silence.”
I fiddle with my fingers as a hard blush scorches up my torso. I sigh. “Yeah, well, I told you I was a lot.”
A low laugh rumbles out of Reed, but he doesn’t respond.
“We did agree to no texting, right?”
He dips his chin, grinning now. “Yeah, I just like talking to you. I regret not vetoing that rule.”
“I like talking to you too. I just figured you’d probably ghost me before we could see each other again, and I, well, I was trying to prevent things from getting messy.”
Reed nods diplomatically. “That’s fair.”
“But . . . this now feels messier than any sporadic texting could have ever been.”
He snorts.
“You just found me . . . naked outside your house on a random Wednesday.” I swallow nervously, before looking up at him. “So I understand if you want to end our pact.”
Reed lifts a brow. “My neighbor’s house.”
“Oh, trust me, I was outside your house too.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. We got the Ring notification.”
My eyes widen as a full body flush burns up my torso.
Reed nods. “Yep. You’re blowing up on Nextdoor.”
Not just a flush, a hot flash. I’m having a hot flash. We’ve stopped moving again.
“No shit,” I croak.
“They’re calling you naked journaling girl.”
I swallow. “Wow, I’ve always wanted a nickname.”
“Well, you can check it off the bucket list.”
A bead of sweat trickles down the small of my back as I hold his gaze. “Make sure they include it in my obituary.”
Reed nods again, a somber expression smoothing out any crinkled lines of amusement in his face. “Rikki ‘Naked Journaling Girl’ Romona. Respected therapist. Columbia graduate. Relationship Columnist. Viral Nudes on Nextdoor.”
I blow out a slow exhale, grateful as the hot flash ebbs. “I want those exact words. No edits.”
He smiles, and a triumphant warmth washes across my chest. I snort, drop my head into my hands, and drag them down my face.
“Seriously, though,” I say quietly, “I understand if this was a deal-breaker. It was creepy and weird. I shouldn’t have agreed to Whitney’s bet.”
Reed studies me without comment.
Okaaaay. “Uh, yeah, so I’ll make this easy.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m gonna count to fifteen, and if you’re not here when I open my eyes, I totally get it. Text me the goodbye phrase. I’ll have my phone back eventually . . .”
I give him a second to reply, but he stays quiet.
Okay, and here we go. Eyes closed, I clear my throat. “One, one thousand. Two, one thou—”
I pause as Reed’s palms glide up both sides of my face. I hope they’re Reed’s palms. My eyes open.
Reed’s ice-blue irises burn into mine with an intensity that roots me to the sidewalk. Swallows the embarrassment lingering in my veins. Swipes across my thoughts like Windex on a whiteboard. He’s so close.
All I see. All I feel is him. The heat of his chest rising against me. His feverishly hot hands. His fingertips grazing my ears. The five o’clock shadow on his sharp jaw.
He peers at me until my heart is galloping against my chest.
Until my skin begins to hum.
Slowly, his thumb tips up my chin. His lips draw up at the corners. “Come inside with me, Renee.”