Page 26 of A Thousand Second Chances

Maybe they did it last night or yesterday afternoon, and it took me this long to notice the ruse?

I know I’m spiraling, standing there in the middle of the cafe wide-eyed and trembling. But I have no idea how to reconcile the apparent evidence with everything I thought I knew about the way the world works.

Pull it together, Wentworth!Theremustbe a way to prove this is all some cruel trick. A method to disprove my faulty hypothesis.

I barrel out of the cafe, searching the rooms downstairs for something to counter my line of thinking. A gaggle of people waiting to jump out and shoutsurprise, perhaps? Anything that would prove the past isn’t repeating itself right before my eyes.

Reaching the front entryway, I pause and glance around. My eyes fall on the front windows, and I can’t stifle my gasp. Professor Oshkoff stands outside, along with a growing group of students.

That’s why everyone is up so early, a voice whispers in the back of my head.They’re all getting ready for the bike ride.You know, the one that hasn’t actually happened yet.

No. No!No!

“Excuse me?” I say, snagging the first person to pass me—a husky guy with terrible acne. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”

His eyes flick to my own phone, still clenched tightly in one hand, then narrow suspiciously. “What for?”

“Please, man,” I beg. “There’s something wrong with mine, and I’ve got to check something. It’ll only take a second.”

Reluctantly, the guy unlocks his phone and holds it out to me. I snatch it and check the date, holding my breath.

Saturday, October 14th, 8:49 AM.

It’s the same. The goddamn same!

The guy’s still watching me like he thinks I’m going to run off with his phone, so I shove it back to him. “What day is it today?”

The guy’s lip curls, stretching the acne across his cheeks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The day!” I practically shout, and he takes a step away from me. “Whatdayis it?”

His brows shoot up. “Seriously?”

I nod frantically. “Please. Tell me!”

“Okay, okay!” The guy holds up his hands. “It’s Saturday, dude. You know, the day of the trip? The one we’re currently on?”

Saturday…

I don’t reply,can’treply. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I feel like I’m going insane, and by the look the guy gives me as he beats a hasty retreat, so does he.

This doesn’t make any sense! How the hell is this happening? Am I asleep, stuck inside some incredibly vivid dream? Or maybe an accident last night left me in a coma.

For some reason, I can’t quite bring myself to believe it. Impossible or not, this feels too real to be only in my head. And if it is…well, if it is, then I’m all sorts of screwed anyway. This must be what a total mental breakdown feels like—as if your entire world is crumbling around you. My vision wavers, and I search for someplace to sit before I faint or collapse or do something equally embarrassing.

Yeah, as if making a fool of myself is my biggest problem right now…

I’m about halfway across the room toward an adjacent parlor when I spy another familiar figure barreling down the stairs, his face panicked. He shoves his way past several other students, his wild eyes leaping around the room before settling on me.

Such expressive eyes, my dazed mind supplies.The perfect mix of green and gold. God, I’ve missed those eyes. And those lips. And…

And even through my brain fog, heat races down my skin when Chris’ long fingers tighten around my arm. He’s speaking to me, I realize, the words lost to the incessant buzzing in my ears. It takes every ounce of control I can muster to focus on what he’s saying instead of staring at his plump, perfect lips or the faint stubble along his narrow jaw.

“Do you know what day it is? Perce, come on, talk to me.Do you know what day it is?”

“Sunday,” I whisper, locking onto his intent gaze. “It’s supposed to be Sunday.”

Relief floods Chris’ face. “Oh, thank God! I’m not the only one. I’m not crazy!” Then, he blinks, his relief fading to horror so quickly it might’ve been comic under other circumstances. He groans and presses a hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Out of everyone else on this damn island who could’ve remembered what happened, why did it have to beyou?”