“No.”
Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten . . . I was counting the beats of his heart between questions and noted with some interest that his pulse had just increased. His heart was beating faster, which meant mine—which had been in sync with his for the last quarter of the movie— also began beating faster.
“What do you want to do?” His voice deepened, and there was no mistaking the grumbly, suggestive quality to it.
“So many things,” I whispered. My leg constricted over his thigh, my arm around his waist now squeezing, I scrunched my eyes tighter.
He waited, his breath becoming shallow.
Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two . . .
And then he waited, his breath returning to normal.
Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine . . . Inexplicably, his heart rate slowed. Mine fell out of sync, because mine was still racing.
Abram took another deep breath, speaking as he exhaled, “Okay. We have time. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.” His arm around me tightened briefly and then relaxed. He kissed my forehead. “I’ll always be here.”
As his words sunk in, a small, silent huff of bitter amusement escaped my lungs.
Time?
No. We had no time. Lisa was due back any day. There was no more time. Time was up.
Here?
Here he was. Here we were. Here was I. Experiencing the first and only time in my life where I didn’t want someone to ask permission or for instructions prior to touching me, and that’s exactly what he does.
Oh. The IRONY!
Hot tears of frustration pressed against the back of my eyelids, stinging my nose and throat. I rolled my lips between my teeth, firming my chin to keep it from wobbling. Meanwhile, Abram’s heart had returned to its steady beat, his hand still smoothing languidly back and forth along my forearm, his breathing regular and even.
My mind worked to extinguish this reality and replace it with an alternate one, one where he knew I was Mona, but we’d still found ourselves at this singularity in time.
I wanted it so badly, so badly. If wanting were a means by which travel between dimensions was possible, surely my want would have carried us there. But the gulf between wanting and reality was just as vast as the chasm between wanting and action.
Not insurmountable, but well beyond my reach.
Unless . . .
Unless I actively made a choice to betray my sister by telling Abram the truth, or betrayed Abram by taking what I wanted with the lies between us. Those were my options. Neither were the logical path forward and both would fundamentally change who I was, thereby changing my reality.
These were the circular thoughts in my head as I fell asleep in Abram’s arms. I didn’t remember falling asleep. But I must have drifted off, because I was awoken from delightful dreams of alternate realities—where I told Abram the truth and he forgave me at once, offering to help with Lisa’s plight just before removing my clothes—by someone holding my nose closed.
It was a peculiar thing, something Lisa and Gabby and I used to do to each other during sleepovers as children. As such, I wasn’t able to incorporate it into my now deliciously dirty dream and it woke me at once.
Blinking scratchy eyes open, I squinted at the face above mine.
Gabby.
Her eyes were wide and she was mouthing something. I frowned, not understanding.
She huffed and then pressed her index finger to her lips, tilting her head to my right, her left while shifting her eyes meaningfully. Clearly, she was indicating to something on my right, so I glanced that way.
Abram. Asleep.
Oh. Oh yeah!
Understanding at once that she wanted me to be quiet so as not to wake my sleepy, messy Adonis, I nodded faintly, lifting the hand that rested on his stomach to gesture that I was getting up. This seemed to immediately relieve whatever anxiety she was feeling, because the crazy quality behind her stare ease and she nodded.
Rubbing my eyes, I scooched to the end of the couch as unobtrusively as possible, making careful movements so as not to disturb Abram. I met Gabby just outside the entrance to the theater, where—again—she pressed her index finger to her lips and waved me forward toward the hallway that led to the stairs.
Fuzzy headed, I followed, up the stairs, past the kitchen landing. It wasn’t until the second flight that I spoke, asking and thinking at the same time, “How did you get in?”
Gabby glanced at me briefly over her shoulder. “Lisa has her keys.”
I stopped.
Every cell, every atom, electron, neutron, positron, and quark within me stopped.
Time might also have stopped. The ability to see and hear certainly stopped, my brain and heart and body all aligning to become a void of absolute nothingness, which was accompanied by the strangest thought.
I no longer exist.