Page 96 of Kiss Slay Replay

“Is it sophomore year? What are we doing?” Evan says, swatting away a plume of smoke. I think of those strange, fuzzy gray clouds. The neon lightning. The alien. The way the light of the tractor beam felt, getting slurped up only to be unceremoniously dropped. I know I asked it to let me go, but still. Did it think it was being polite? Oh, sorry, my bad. Thought you were into it. Never mind! Have fun plummeting to your death! “Willa. Why are you shaking?”

I bring the cigarette back to my lips and notice my hand is trembling. It’s bad.

“Red Bull,” I say, pointing to the cans at my feet. “It gives you wings.”

“Again, I must ask. Is this sophomore year?”

I shrug and change the subject. “You’re so handsome.”

He smiles, his cheeks turning pink. “Flattery will get you everywhere. We’re sharing a cabin. Did you know? You, me, and Cassie. And Luke. And…”

He gestures to Wyatt, who gives a thumbs-up.

“Yeah, can’t wait.” I almost burn myself with my cigarette courtesy of my hand tremors. I give up and stomp it out. “Just like old times. You want to show me around?”

“Do I?” He taps his chin, pausing to think, or pretending to think, hard to say. “Yes, I do. Wyatt, can you take Willa’s suitcase to the cabin?”

“That’s okay. I can do it.”

“I’m happy to,” Wyatt says, circling to the trunk and popping it open.

“He is,” Evan says. “Any—”

“Opportunity to show off his brute strength. I know.” I finish his sentence with a wink.

“Cute,” Evan says, unamused at being interrupted and unimpressed by my mind reading. Wyatt lifts the suitcase out, closes the trunk, and kisses Evan’s forehead before plodding up the path toward the cabins.

“Thank you!” I call after him.

He gives an overhead wave without turning around.

“Shall we?” Evan asks.

“We shall.” I toss the empty cans back into my car because I can’t be bothered to find a recycling bin. I take my sole remaining Red Bull with me.

“All things considered, you seem to be doing well,” he says.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not, but I’m going to assume that you are.”

“No, I’m serious,” he says, threading his arm through mine and leading me down the hill, around the side of the reception hall to the series of Adirondack chairs facing the lake.

It is such an incredible view. The cobalt blue water, the lush green of the trees. A soft breeze carries that potent floral scent I noticed earlier. It’s promising, to smell flowers instead of rot. Instead of death.

“Sit,” Evan says, sinking into one of the chairs. “I was hoping for a moment alone with you before the festivities begin. How are you? I’ve been meaning to call you for a proper catch-up, but then I thought with the wedding coming we’d just talk in person.”

Instead of sitting in my own chair, I squeeze in beside him. He groans but lets it happen.

I look up at the cloudless sky, at the bright shining sun. I think about what to say next.

I think about this day; about every time I’ve lived through it. Every decision, every death.

I think about Evan.

I think about the two of us at eighteen falling asleep in my XL twin bed watching movies and gossiping about everyone on our dorm floor. I think about the two of us dancing at warehouse parties in Bushwick, in nothing but fishnets and glitter. I think about helping him pack up his apartment to move away and be with Wyatt, about the two of us eating pizza off paper towels while watching old Britney music videos on my phone.

I think about the last time I made it out to Chicago, us walking along the river a few steps ahead of Ravi and Wyatt, eavesdropping on their conversation about sports. We went over to Evan and Wyatt’s place and played board games. Then Ravi and I went back to the hotel, and he passed out, and I cried into my pillow because I missed Evan already, because I had no idea when I would see him next. Because the time together always goes by too fast and the time apart too slowly.

I think about the silver lining of the loop—at least I get to be with my friends. If we didn’t all repeatedly suffer vicious deaths, if we weren’t at this fucking wedding, then maybe I’d stay. Let it be. It’s not like I have anything to look forward to, any grand plans for the future. Any plan at all.