Page 109 of Burn

“It was a few times. But it hasn’t happened in a long time.” He looks at Cally. “I swear, bro.”

“Okay,” I say, bringing the conversation back on track. “So, you’ve been hanging out with Rosie. Is this a… paid situation?” I ask tentatively.

“No!” He sounds disgusted at the insinuation, but a spade’s a spade, right? “Fuck. This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you would react like this.”

A pang of guilt hits me. I’m being a judgmental prick, and I hate that he felt like he couldn’t tell me. “Okay, Cally. I’m sorry. So, she’s coming, and you’re stoked?”

“Yeah, you fuck. She’s coming. I gave her two fucking tickets.”

He’s clearly still pissed.

“She texted me a bit ago to let me know the other ticket was claimed.” His eyes lift back to mine, and there’s something there that looks vaguely like excitement.

My throat goes dry, and my heart kicks into gear. I don’t need to ask, but I do. “By whom?”

Identical grins spread across their faces, confirming it.

She’s coming.

I turn back to the ice, and tepid hope spreads through my chest. It coils around my heart.

Ronan leans forward, setting his beer on the ground, and slaps my knee to get my attention. “So, what are you gonna do if she’s here?”

“Fuck it up, I’m sure,” I say, swallowing hard.

As I always fucking do.

Cally nods thoughtfully, looking like he’s considering my answer, and then says, “Alternative option.” He nudges my arm. “Maybe… don’t.”

Flicker

Lex

Phonein hand, I navigate to the browser and Google ‘déjà vu.’ I know what it means, but the intense sense of it makes me want to read the definition.

Déjà vu is a French term (literally “already seen”) describing the feeling of having experienced a situation, event, or place before.

Hordes of people pass me while I wait, and when Rosie slips her arm through mine, it all comes back to me. She plants a kiss on my cheek. “Miss Alexandria!” she squeals.

“Hello, Rosie,” I respond, my tone cautious.

I must be out of my mind.

My own voice plays in my mind, reinforcing the strong sense of déjà vu.

“Home opener!” she chirps as she pulls me toward the ticketing gate. “I’m so happy you could come.”

She shows her phone to the attendant, who scans it and signals for us to move ahead. Rosie holds her arms out for security and turns to me. “This is going to be so much fun! We have amazing seats.” She pauses, and her eyes scan me from head to toe. “What are you wearing?”

I look down at myself. My black jeans are full of tears, letting glimpses of color show. I’m wearing the massive black hoodie that’s been my first choice for months. I’ve worn it so much that the cuffs now match the hood; tattered and worn. I tuck my hands inside the sleeves as I step ahead and spread my arms out.

“Clothes?”

She’s wearing a bright blue mini dress. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her legs covered. Her breasts have dropped in the last few months and sit at a more natural level, but are still unnaturally round with a wide gap between them. Over the dress, she’s wearing a short fur jacket. She fidgets in place, and it slips off her shoulders, catching in the crooks of her elbows. She added low lights to her hair, giving her skin a glowy appearance. Her hair looks air-dried, but not unkempt. She looks sexy, like she was recently rolling around in bed. She’s so vibrant and full of life that I’m now very aware of how dark and depressing I appear.

“We should stop at the shop and get you a jersey!” She doesn’t say it, but I can feel her disappointment in my current attire, and there’s no chance in hell I’m buying a jersey. I learned my lesson last time.

“I’m good without, thanks.” I step away from security and drop my eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you with my outfit choice.”