Page 15 of Don’t Let Me Go

I’m drenched in sweat when I return from my morning run. It’s barely nine but last night’s storm has left the air so hot and

thick, it’s like moving through soup. It’s not the kind of day you’d want to be outside if you can avoid it. Which is why

I’m surprised to see Riley in my driveway. He’s pacing nervously next to his Prius, his face twisted with worry. But when

he sees me, his entire expression melts into palpable relief.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as I make my way over to him. I wish I were wearing a shirt to wipe some of the sweat off my face,

but I settle for the back of my hand. “Did I forget we had plans?”

Riley looks down at his scuffed-up Chucks like he’s suddenly too shy to meet my eyes. “No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush

you. I tried calling but...”

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t bring my phone when I run.”

“Right. Of course. Makes sense.”

He’s still not looking at me, and the tension radiating out of him is starting to make me tense. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods unconvincingly. “Yeah. I—sorry—I don’t know why I’m here. I mean, I know why I’m here. But now I feel really stupid.”

“What’s going on?”

Riley shakes his head and lets out a sardonic snort, like even he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “I sort of—I sort of had a nightmare. Last night. A really intense nightmare. About us. Or people who looked like us. I mean, it was us, but it also wasn’t. You know what I mean?”

“Not really...”

Riley sighs. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, we were in Italy in my dream. But we were in ancient Roman times. And there

was this huge volcano that erupted. And you and I...”

“You and I what?”

“We died .”

“Oh.” That’s definitely a weird thing for someone to dream about. But I still don’t see why he’s so upset.

“I know. I know ,” he says, shaking his head again. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m telling you except?.?.?.?except it felt so

real, Jackson. I felt us dying .” Despite the hot-soup air, Riley shivers. “And then, when I woke up—I don’t know. I knew it was a dream, but part of me

still felt like I was in danger. And that you were in danger. And I—” He finally forces himself to look at me, and his green eyes are full of concern. “I just wanted to

make sure you were okay.”

I’m not quite sure what to say.

Part of me wants to laugh. No one’s ever rushed over to my house to check if I’ve died overnight in a volcano eruption before.

But the other part of me is oddly flattered. It’s touching how worked up Riley is. I can tell he’s worried about me. And despite

knowing how bonkers he would sound, he still came over and risked making a fool of himself to see if I was okay.

If that’s not a good friend, I don’t know what is.

Riley, though, must mistake my silence for annoyance. He flushes, and his cheeks burn so pink, they’re almost crimson.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he mumbles. “This is so fucking stupid. Forget I said anything.”

He turns to get into his car, but he’s so rattled, he drops his keys.

“Dude, where are you going?” I ask, forcing a laugh and putting a hopefully not too whiffy arm around his shoulder. “Come

on inside. We’ll have some breakfast.”

“No, I need to get home.”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” I insist. I don’t want him driving when he’s this upset. Especially when the reason he’s

so upset is because he was worried about me. “My aunt started teaching summer classes at her community college today, so no

one’s here, and I’ve got nothing to do. Let’s hang out. You came all this way to save me from a volcano, right? Well, now

you can save me from a boring Monday.”

Before he can protest, I steer Riley inside and lead him to the kitchen, savoring the refreshing chill of the AC along the

way. At the sink, I fill up two glasses of water and hand one to Riley, who still looks skittish. Like any second he might

dash out of the house.

“So,” I begin after a satisfying gulp that empties half my glass, “tell me more about this dream.”

I want to be supportive and show him that I’m taking his feelings seriously. If his nightmare upset him, we should talk about

it. But Riley gives me a dismissive shrug. “There’s really nothing more to tell,” he says before sipping at his glass.

“Sure there is. Give me some context. What were we doing in the dream before we died?”

Riley chokes on his water, and a second later, he’s fighting off a full-on coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Water just went down the wrong pipe,” he wheezes, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine. He looks like he wants to run and hide or be anywhere other than here with me.

I’m guessing he’s embarrassed about almost being killed by a glass of water, so I try to take his mind off it by asking him again about his dream.

For some reason, though, my question seems to make him even more uncomfortable.

“We were just friends,” he mumbles. “In the dream. We were just?.?.?.?hanging out.”

“Just hanging out? In ancient Rome?”

“Pompeii, actually. It’s a coastal city on the Bay of Naples that got wiped off the map when Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79.”

“Okay, Google.”

Riley blushes. “I did a paper on it for my world history class last year.”

“Okay, well, that explains why you dreamed about Italy.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Riley agrees, though the skepticism in his voice doesn’t match his words.

“So what were you and I doing in Pompeii? You know, before the volcano erupted?”

Riley hesitates and again I’d swear his cheeks color. “You were?.?.?. getting ready to meet your fiancée.”

“My fiancée? Nice. Was she hot?”

Riley scowls. “Does it matter?”

“Hey,” I say, unable to keep from laughing. “I’m just curious what kind of love life you’ve concocted for Dream Jackson.”

“Dream Jackson’s love life is fine . Trust me. He has no complaints about—”

Riley stops himself and stares at the floor. Nervously, he grabs his glass and drains what’s left of his water. I’m afraid

he might choke again. But when he sets down the empty glass, he seems to have pulled himself together.

“It was just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, of course,” I agree. “I’m just trying to understand what happened. Get all the details.”

“I don’t remember much more,” Riley sighs. “Seriously, the whole thing is so hazy now. I can’t really tell you anything.”

I nod, though I’m not sure I believe him. “Okay. Well, if you ever do remember more or you want to talk about it...”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s probably just stress. I’m starting that internship in a week, so my brain is just freaking out and being a drama

queen about it.”

“Yeah. Could be,” I concede, remembering some of my own sleepless nights from these past few months. “When I was going through

all that stuff with Devon, I had nightmares all the time.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t dream about volcanoes or time traveling. It was the usual anxiety dreams, you know? People yelling

at me. Feeling trapped. It was more stressful than scary. But it wasn’t fun.”

My words seem to have a reassuring effect on Riley. “When did the nightmares stop?” he asks.

“When I moved in with Aunt Rachel.”

Although that’s not exactly true. My first week in Orlando, I still had plenty of restless evenings. I don’t think I truly

had my first solid night of sleep until after I went to the carnival. After I met Riley.

Maybe it’s the breeze of the AC on my damp back or maybe it’s the unpleasant memory of those sleepless nights back in Tallahassee,

but a shiver creeps across my skin. For some reason, I suddenly feel?.?.?.? exposed .

Though that’s probably because I’m standing around in nothing but my running shorts, smelling like a dirty locker room.

“Anyway, um, I’m gonna grab a quick shower,” I announce, edging toward the hall. “Make yourself at home. When I get back, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Riley arches an eyebrow and smirks. “You cook?”

“I can pour two bowls of cereal like a pro.”

Riley laughs. “Go shower. I’ll cook breakfast.”

“What? No. You don’t have to do that.”

“Please. I’m the one who came over uninvited and made you listen to my ludicrous dream. It’s the least I can do.”