AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It isn't exactly funny, but I laugh. Maybe it’s my guilt at the thought that this could somehow be my fault, or maybe it’s just the absurdity of trying to reconcile the last three years of my life with the last day. I clawed my way here, and I really thought the past was in the past, but now I’m not so sure.
"We work at a pizzeria, Remy. It's not like we're in an underground society."
"Right." He smiles almost apologetically as if he realizes he’s being silly. But this is the same guy who assumed that I was some sort of assassin sent to kill him just a few hours ago, so by contrast, it’s not that ridiculous. That dimple in his left cheek reveals itself for a moment before it disappears far too quickly. "No matter. Whoever fired that gun won't be back."
"You don't think?" I clutch the mug between my hands, content to let its warmth leech into me with no desire to actually drink it. My nerves are already jilted enough without adding caffeine into the mix, but the steam still rising up from the surface and the earthy aroma is certainly helping ground me a bit.
"They won't live to see the sunrise." He says.
A shiver passes over me at the finality in his tone and then again as Remy splays his hands out on the counter on either side of me, his strong arms caging me in once more. He’s closer this time, the heat rolling off his body tempting me to press myself against him. Those fathomless eyes meet with mine, and I can't help but be impressed with how infinite they are without betraying anything of his soul. I’m certain my lip quivers as I watch his and I have to actively fight the desire to lean into him. "Do me a favor, Claire?"
Anything.
The word springs to my tongue, but I manage to bite it back. When I answer, my voice is thick with desire. I’m torn between praying he doesn't notice and wanting him to recognize it on the off chance he will do something about it. "What?"
"Don't tell Rhea about this. Apparently, she still sleeps like the dead, and I'd rather her not be stressed the entire time we’re in Costa Rica. Will you do that for me?"
Lie to my best friend for him? Normally that answer would be a resounding no, but he’s right. Rhea doesn't need anything else on her plate while dealing with her father's passing. And if this somehow has something to do with me, I will gladly go to any length to shelter her from it.
I nod.
"Good." He brushes a strand of wet hair off my face as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His touch grazes my cheek, and though I’ve been wrapped in his arms and trapped beneath his weight, that brush of his finger is the most intimate thing that’s transpired between us. It ends far too soon, but the fluttering inside of me lingers even after his hand drops. "I'll have the mess outside taken care of. You should shower and be sure to get the glass out of your hair."
He stares at me like he expects something more, and I stare at him like he’s about to do something more. Part of me considers the idea of throwing myself at him for a kiss, but then I remember he’s my best friend’s brother, he’s way out of my league, and he’s going back to Costa Rica in the morning.
All the more reason to get him out of your system tonight, says the devil on my shoulder.
All the more reason you can’t. Rhea’s father just died, says the angel on my other shoulder.
After a moment, I nod, and he steps back. Situated between his legs, he’d not been touching me, and yet his absence leaves me cold.
I slide off the counter and make it halfway out the door before his voice calls me back. I turn upon hearing my name and see him standing there with his phone in hand, not even looking at me as he focuses on the screen before him. "Thank you."
I don’t know how to answer that, so I don’t. I just drag myself to the shower and stand under the stream for a long time before crawling into bed.
I feel like I’ve just closed my eyes when Rhea bursts in and throws the curtains open, ripping me instantly away from whatever shred of sleep I’d been clinging to. "Wake up, or we're going to be late!" She demands, flopping onto the bed next to me.
I groan, rolling over and dragging the blanket over my head with me. I don't appreciate the wakeup call or the sudden assault of light in the room. My head hurts and I’m confused for a moment before I vaguely remember knocking it against the ground when Remy pushed me out of the line of fire. “Late for what?”
"Our flight!” I feel her crawl over me so that she can get to my other side and pry the blanket away from me. Once she’s on the other side, she bounces a couple times like a child trying to wake their parents on Christmas morning. “Have you even packed?"
Our flight?
I pull the blanket away from my own face to scowl at her. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh my God, did you hit your head or something?"
I did, as a matter of fact. But that has nothing to do with my confusion.
"Do you know what year it is?" Rhea laughs. "Costa Rica. Remember? My dad died, my brother came to get me, the funeral is in Costa Rica? Is any of that ringing a bell?"
I remember it, of course. Remy told her to be ready for the flight at seven. "I don't understand. Why would I go to Costa Rica with you?"
"Why wouldn't you?" She laughs. "I mean, I guess you could stay here in this big old house all by yourself. Or you could go back to our apartment and read until school starts back up. Or..." She drags the word out, which is impressive, considering it’s only a single syllable. "You could come to Costa Rica with me and support me at my father's funeral. Please, Claire?” Her bottom lip juts out in a pout, and she clasps her hands together beneath her chin. Again, she looks like a child begging for ice cream before dinner, and it’s part of what I love about her. She’s so… innocent and hopeful, even in the wake of tragedy. “I know it's kind of heavy, but I don't know if I can do it alone."
"You won't be alone," I say, sitting up. "You have your brother."
"Remy?" Rhea laughs at his name.
