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All three pairs of eyes swivel to me. I don’t wave. I don’t move. I let Bryn feel the weight of my attention, intense and unashamed. Elodie’s eyes narrow, her posture shifting into something protective, perhaps even confrontational.

I can almost hear her: What the hell is he doing here?

I’ve always liked Elodie. She’s hot headed and easy to provoke. Tess is a little too soft, the kind of girl who lets louder people decide what she thinks. Bryn stands slowly. The corner of my mouth twitches. Is she coming over? The air feels charged with tension, as in the seconds before the lights go out in the maze, and I step from behind a false wall to make strangers scream. Only this time, I’m the one bracing myself. Tess grabs Bryn’s wrist gently, murmuring something. Elodie looks ready to march across the street and claw my eyes out, but Bryn doesn’t break my eye contact. I tilt my head slightly, asking silent questions.

Do you miss me? Do you want to see me?

Her throat moves as she swallows.

I step backward, deeper into the shadow of the marquee. I let the darkness swallow me, inch by inch, while holding her gaze until the last possible second, so she feels what it’s like to lose sight of me.

I wonder if she’ll dream about me tonight. I already know I’ll dream about her. I always do.

35

ASH

Five Years Ago

The house is dark when I get there.

She’s gone. Again. I stand at the edge of the driveway, staring at the windows like they might talk back to me and explain where they’ve gone – where she has gone. There are no lights on, and no movement inside the house. It’s different this time. The curtains are partially open, revealing the couch through the gap in the blinds. The furniture hasn’t been removed, so that’s a good sign – they haven’t moved again, but they aren’t here.

Grant took her phone, laptop, and any other way of contacting me. Or at least that’s what I assume. Even after everything, I still think she would hear me out if given the chance. I cross the lawn without thinking, my shoes sinking into the damp grass. I’ve done this a hundred times – I know exactly how to get in undetected – but the side door isn’t unlocked for me as it usually is. Peeling off my shirt like I’ve done before, I wrap it around my fist and throw my hand through the glass. For half a second, there’s nothing, just a sharp sting biting my knuckles and the rain of shattered glass hitting tiles.

Then the alarm blares. A violent, mechanical shriek tears through the house, bouncing off the walls. The sound drills straight into my skull.

‘Shit.’

My heart slams hard enough to make me dizzy. The sound doesn’t stop. It’s as if it’s screaming at me, shrill and relentless, pouring out of the house and into the street. I run, cutting across the lawn, jumping the fence easily and landing swiftly on the other side. I slow when I reach the end of the street, my chest heaving, and glance back. I breathe hard, trying to steady myself, but the panic keeps rising. It crawls up my spine and sinks its teeth into the base of my skull. I need to hear her voice; I don’t even care what she says. She can yell if she wants. Hell, she can even tell me she hates me. Pulling my phone from my pocket with shaking fingers, I call her again, like I have hundreds of times already. It goes straight to voicemail.

‘Come on,’ I mutter, pacing in a tight circle under the streetlight. ‘Come on, Bryn.’

The world feels too big and lonely without her in it. Every night I knew where she was, but now she could be anywhere. What if she’s somewhere crying and I’m not there? What if she thinks I stopped trying? My breathing turns shallow, releasing in short painful bursts. I start walking again, down streets I now know by heart. I feel untethered, as if I’ve been hanging on an edge and someone’s stomped on my hands, forcing me to fall. I built everything around her: the schedule of my days, the routes I take, the way I think. Without knowing where she is, there’s no shape to anything. There’s just a hollow, frantic ache clawing at my ribs. I slow near the park, bracing my hands on my knees, trying to pull oxygen back into my lungs.

‘I’m not done,’ I whisper to the empty dark. ‘This isn’t over.’

Desperation settles over me. I straighten slowly, my mind spinning. I’m not giving up on her. I’m not giving up on us.

36

BRYN

Now

Bass thumps from Tess’s speaker while she digs through her closet.

‘Wear the black one,’ Tess calls, muffled by hangers full of dresses. Her bronze hair is in a half-up and tumbles down her back in waves. ‘The short one.’

I stare at myself in Elodie’s vanity mirror before reaching for the dress that’s laid out on her bed.

‘It’s very tight,’ I mumble. ‘And short.’

‘The best combination, in my opinion.’ Elodie smirks, sprawled across the floor in silk pyjamas as she attempts to put on false lashes. ‘It’s my birthday. You don’t get to be modest on my birthday.’

She’s straightened her black hair, which stops just past her shoulders. I’ve opted to wear my hair out in long waves as well, knowing it would look striking against the black, especially since I’m wearing red lipstick. I step into the dress, sliding it up my thighs and pulling it over the lacy lingerie set I’m wearing underneath.

Tess eyes me with her brows raised. ‘Dressing for a particular somebody?’