“What I mean is, how well do the two of you really know each other? You were together, what . . . a week, ten days before he got sick? That’s less than two weeks during which you fell madly in love? Are you kidding me?”
“Shut up,” I insisted. “You’re wrong.” Tyler and I might only have had two weeks together after I’d been returned, but that had been two weeks added to the rest of a lifetime that we’d known each other.
Okay sure, a lifetime where we’d been virtual strangers, where I’d barely given him the time of day because he was younger than me back then . . . but that didn’t change the fact we had a history, whether Simon understood or not. We’d gone to the same schools, our families had been close . . . and we’d spent our entire lives across the street from each other.
Those experiences counted for something.
I started to walk away, but Simon reached for me. “Seriously, Kyra, hear me out. Are you just hanging on to Tyler because he’s part of your history? Because he reminds you of your past? Is that enough to make a relationship? Is it really about memories—the things you think you shared? Or is it about having a connection?” His fingers curled around my wrist, insistent, and I stopped trying to get away from him.
Hadn’t I wondered those same things, when I’d first come back . . . and in the weeks since? Not just about the people around me, but about myself. What made me who I was—was it my memories and past experiences? Or the person I was now and my actions going forward?
It was kind of like my old bedroom at my mom’s house. After I’d come back it was no longer my room anymore. Sure, it was the exact same space—the same room in the same house—but it wasn’t the same. Not really. My mom had packed up all the things that had made it mine—all my pictures and posters and trophies, my stuffed animals and clothes, ticket stubs from the movies I’d seen, and my journals and CDs. Everything personal to me. Everything that had given it character.
Everything that made it feel like home.
Maybe my body was just a new bedroom where all my old stuff—all the things I’d collected and cherished—had been moved. A new home filled with Old Kyra’s memories and feelings. A place where I could start all over again.
“Think about it, isn’t it better to really know someone . . . to see the other person for who they are, flaws and all, and still want to be with them?” Simon’s grip loosened but I stayed still, trapped by my swirling emotions, and by eyes that were so vibrantly copper I got lost in them. “You and I,” he went on, “we’ve spent more time together than the two of you ever did.” His voice swept over my skin like liquid silk. He inched closer, a playful smile tugging his full lips. “We’ve survived so much. We can survive this too.” He reached underneath my chin and nudged it up. My breath hitched and I wanted to look away, but the only place I could look was there . . . at those molten eyes of his. “You and I might not have history, not yet anyway. But I know you. I see you, and that means something. You just have to give me a chance, Kyra.” He leaned closer, coming right at me. My brain sent the signal to shake my head, to tell him, No . . . no way! But my heart was thumping out of control, and all I could think was, This isn’t happening . . . this isn’t happening . . . this isn’t happening.
But it so totally was. Simon was positively-for sure-without a doubt going to kiss me. “I can’t promise you won’t regret it, but I can guarantee we’ll have fun along the way.” He exhaled then and his breath was there, fusing with mine. His lips, those lips of his that I’d been watching just a moment earlier were right there, and I was helpless . . . hopeless to stop them.
It was the light above us that made me pause. It flickered. Just like that, out of the blue it went on and off, then back on again.
Without realizing what I was doing, my hands flew to Simon’s forearms, which were sinewy. I felt stupid when I saw he was grinning down at me. “See? Together, we’re electric . . .”
I was about to tell him what an idiot he was for being so cheesy, but then the bulb above us exploded. Tiny shards of glass shattered down on us, landing in my hair and hitting my exposed skin.
Simon’s arm clamped around my shoulder as he dragged me out of the way. “What d’you think that was?” I asked as I reached up to brush fragments of glass out of my hair.
Forgetting his whole seduction act, Simon surveyed the hallway. The rest of the overhead lights flickered but stayed on. He shook his head.
As I followed his gaze I realized something was terribly wrong. We needed to get to the others.
But before I could warn him or take a single step, I was gripped by the sudden knock-me-to-my-knees kind of pain.
I knew what this was.
Simon was at my side, the concern thick in his voice. “Kyra. What is it? What’s wrong?”