25. LINC
TWENTY-FIVE
LINC
It didn’t matter that her face had basically formed a permanent film over my vision.
It didn’t matter that I’d thought about her every day for the last seven years. Just like earlier in the Veranda, my brain processes the sight before me through some kind of filter, one that captures the past in the shadows of the present.
Blinking rapidly, my mind flicks between seeing the two of them, standing not even a foot apart, backdropped with the starry night sky. When I blink again, they’re seventeen. The memory of them on the hill, playing the Moon and the Fisherman takes its place.
Back and forth, back and forth.
“Linc,” Ellis says, and I breathe deep, pulling my awareness to the voice. “Did you come from the club?”
He’s a step closer to me now, I can feel myself settling back into the moment —into reality— but unlike usual times, she’s still here. Ellis stares at me, expectantly, and my eyebrows pinch, just as his eyes widen a bit.
Right. This isn’t actual curiosity about where I’ve been.
He can tell I’m zoning out, and he’s trying to get me to stay alert. Aware. Which I know I need to do if I have any hope of making it through whatever is about to happen.
It seems impossible that she’s here. Why did she come here? She should have called the cops. Gone back to her place. Maybe that . . . guy I saw was looking for her.
But she came here . . .
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “I-I was at your apartment,” I croak, speaking directly to her for the first time and her eyes shoot up.
I can’t even begin to dissect the dark indigo swirls of anger, the icy glint of hurt that matches her hair. Her nose scrunches in the exact way I remember. “How do you know where I live?”
I shake my head. “I d-don’t. N-Not really,” I stutter. Shit. It’s impossible to breathe right now, let alone make a sentence.
And her voice—oh my God. In all my imaginings —rememberings— nothing’s prepared me for the warmth that shoots through my veins at the sound of her voice. It has an angry edge I remember well, a bit deeper, but the sound is fucking music to my soul. A full breath to my lungs. After another deep inhale, I add, “Rio gave me the cross streets.”
She huffs, crossing her arms over her petite body, thankfully now covered with a slouchy gray zip-up and leggings. A flash of her outfit from earlier blinks past my vision but I clear my throat in an attempt to force it away.
If I get a boner right now, I’ll throw myself off the balcony.
But God, in all the times I imagined seeing her again, I never thought my physical reaction would be so . . . fucking insistent.
Yes, you did. That’s why you had to stay away.
The voice finds me, the words choking me like there’s a hand gripping my neck.
It’s true. Any thought I’ve had of her for the last seven years has always elicited some kind of reaction, but I . . .
Ellis clears his throat louder than necessary, and I’m aware enough to know it’s again for my benefit.
Fucking stay here.
I swallow again, working my jaw to loosen the tension gathering at the base of my neck and crawling up to my clenched teeth. “I th-think I saw someone there.”
Her brows drop, the angry dark swirls of her eyes cloud just a bit with confusion before she says, “At my apartment? Someone from the club?”
I shake my head. The relief that she doesn’t immediately assume it’s someone —like a boyfriend— gives me an irrational wave of calm.
Paige’s eyes widen, flicking to Ellis, then to me before they settle on the wood planks of the floor. God, she’s so close. I think my knuckles are about to split from the restraint it’s taking to not pull her into me and crash my lips into hers. Sink my tongue into her mouth.
Fucking no.
“You should stay here tonight,” Ellis says quickly. “Until you talk to people at The Window and find out what’s been done about the . . . situation.”
My heart drops. Stay here?
It’s like my greatest, deepest wish is dangling in front of me but it’s wrapped in the electrical barbed-wire of my bullshit.
“I—I can’t,” she says, quietly. “I have . . . Cheeto.”
“I’ve got Cheetos,” Ellis says, easily. And he does. Of every variety.
“No, she’s my gecko . . .”
Well goddammit, if that’s not the cutest thing.
I take a steadying inhale. Even though it will be a mild form of torture to know she’s sleeping walls away, I know Ellis is right. She can’t go back there.
He says, “Well, let’s all pile in the batmobile and go get your lizard.”
“Gecko,” she corrects him. “But I shouldn’t—I can’t—”
“Paige,” Ellis cuts her off. “We’re sidestepping our bullshit for a minute. We’re gonna forget that I’m mad at you, and you’re mad at him, and he’s mad at . . . well, he’s just mad,” he says, and I huff. Asshole. “There may have been a guy lurking around your place after an . . . incident at the club. Better to be safe for right now. Okay?”
The reminder of how I’d first seen her in the Veranda ticks a knot in my already tense body, but I’m still somehow able to appreciate Ellis’s “take charge” attitude. I need him to take the reins right now because I’m floating between my realms—her eyes my only anchor.
An unsteady one at that. She’s been looking at me on and off since I came out here—never too long, but also frequent. She sighs slowly, looking at Ellis, then again to me before she says, “This is really happening?” as she walks toward the sliding door.
And all I can think is the same fucking thing.
I think I’m about to defy the laws of science and start a fire with the way I am rubbing the small bumpy surface along the penny in my hand. I swear I can feel her eyes on me from the backseat. Ellis is driving, his jaw tight as his eyes flick between the rearview mirror and the road. Like he can’t believe she’s really here either.
This whole night feels surreal and now, with her in the backseat, and Ellis and I up front, it feels like we’re sitting in the Bermuda Triangle of our past, colliding with our present—rattling awkwardly in our seats as we drive to Hollywood.
“So this incident tonight,” Ellis says, cautiously, then angles his chin just slightly toward me. “Was there security there?”
I swallow hard. My own eyes flick up to the rearview and see hers meeting mine. An itchiness crawls up my throat and I dig my thumb into the ridges of the penny. “No,” I finally say, then take a breath. “Th-There was a breach with an old security guard that I guess has been banned.”
“Banned? I thought he was just fired?” Paige pipes up from the backseat.
My eyes meet hers through the mirror again, and I shrug. “Jackson said they asked him not to come back.”
Paige mumbles something and I pull my gaze over to Ellis to give myself a breather.
But, like a magnet, my eyes pull back to the mirror, unable to ignore her reflection. I take another breath, then say, “Either way, it ended up being a shitshow. A-And we only ended up at the Veranda because we were chasing him a-around the building. When I talked to Jackson after, he made it sound like there’s n-never security in there.”
“What?!” Ellis barks.
I shrug, just as Paige says, “It’s the VIP room. The guy who rented it knows the owner.”
Ellis shakes his head, muttering, “What the fuck?” then wipes a palm down his face as we come to a red light.
“What was the guy’s name?” he asks.
Paige’s eyes squint, she seems to be dazed too—I can’t blame her. This is the night that will never end. But at the same time, I’m not sure I want it to. It’s like in between all of this speculating and silence, little pockets of light find me, reminding me that she’s really here.
“Tariel,” she finally says.
“Could he have been the guy that came to her building?” Ellis asks me.
I shake my head. “He looked y-younger than the guy in the Veranda. Shaggy brown hair, t-taller—I think he was wearing a leather jacket.”
Ellis’s eyes peek into the rearview mirror. “Sound familiar?”
My eyes also move to the mirror again, seeing her shake her head.
Another few seconds pass as Ellis mutters a curse. Peering around the cross-streets, I can see now that we’re only a few blocks away from where I had staked out a couple hours earlier.
The silence through the car thickens again. It starts to feel suffocating, and my steady rotation of the penny between my fingers is barely enough.
The cool air hits my face, and I breathe deep and close my eyes for a second.
As the car slows to a stop, Ellis puts on his hazard lights, then says, “I’ll wait here. You guys go grab her Cheeto.”