Page 9 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

JOSEFINE

I’m not sure what I’ve done to make Vienna want to stick around, but she’s been meeting me for lunch since last Wednesday.

It wasn’t something we planned, but we ran into each other again on Thursday and by the end of it, she was saying she’d see me the next day.

Sure enough, Friday at the same time, we met and had lunch together.

I don’t know what to make of this. I thought by now she’d be put off by me. I have a track record of not keeping friends.

It’s so bad, people call me Wednesday. Though I’m not sure if they still do; I haven’t been around anyone enough to know.

Vienna—Vi, she insists I call her that, wipes her mouth and her gaze shifts all over S.S. Though it doesn’t look like she’s looking for someone, she almost looks like she’s a little nervous.

“You okay?” I hope to God she says yes because I’m shit at comforting people.

As her eyes settle on me, she huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be that person.” Oh no, here we go.

I knew this was too good to be true. “And I’m not going to be, I promise.

” Wait, what is she on? “I want to welcome you to the dead mom’s club.

I didn’t want to make things awkward and express my condolences because it’s weird.

I mean because I get it. The suffocating hugs, the overwhelming need people have to be all up in your space when all you want is to be alone, and the inclination people have to constantly remind you that she died when you know.

Like what do I know? She was only my mom for seventeen years. ”

A knot of ambivalence twists in my stomach, my mind blank because I actually don’t know how to respond to that.

Vi blanches, seemingly embarrassed. “That was weird. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just wanted you to know that I get it. I’m so sorry. I’ve been told to stop using humor to…I’m going to shut up.”

My lips involuntarily jerk, but only briefly.

I thought she was going to ask for tips and tricks about swimming because most people do. Once they get what they want I’m forgotten about.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t mind it. I’ve been told I have a dry sense of humor, so it’s nothing to me.” The reminder of how much Bryson hated my sense of humor rushes in my head. “I’ll welcome your humor over hugs any day. So please don’t hug me.”

She giggles as she picks up her sub. “No hugging you. Got it.”

Daniel is the exception because I wasn’t thinking when he hugged me on Christmas Day. But I’ll never let him or anyone hug me again. Hugs feel too personal and make me uncomfortably itchy.

Somehow as I think that, Daniel’s eyes clash with mine. I don’t know what’s going on, why the universe is so intent on me running into him. But everywhere I turn, he’s there.

He’s sitting with his friends a few tables away from us. I swear I wasn’t looking for him, and I doubt he was looking for me. Somehow, like magnets, we found each other, forced to connect by an odd electrical pull, and now that we’ve connected, it feels hard to look away.

He flashes me a lopsided smile, sweet and flirty, and that feels strangely dangerous.

Thankfully, Penelope stands in front of me, splitting the pull our eyes seem to have on each other.

“Josie, hey,” she perkily greets. “I thought I’d never run into you. I guess it’s my fault for not getting your number that day.”

“Hey, Penelope.” I smile but realize it might look forced so I drop it.

“Please call me Pen,” she playfully scolds then directs her focus to Vi. “Hey, you’re Vienna, right?”

She grins, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, how did you?—”

“You’re on the aquarium’s brochure and I’ve seen your pictures around campus,” she explains. “Speaking of the aquarium, I need your ab and makeup routine because you just look…” She kisses the tips of her fingers and tosses them in the air. “Chef’s kiss.”

“Please, have you seen yourself, Pen? Can I call you Pen?” Vi asks and pulls the empty chair next to her and pats it for Pen to sit. “You can call me Vi.”

She happily takes the seat. “Yes, of course. So tell me all your secrets. Don’t get me wrong—I love the way I do my makeup, but I could definitely improve.”

I eat my sub as they get immersed in their conversation. I make myself invisible and watch them so casually and easily talk to each other as though they’ve been friends for a while. That’s how effortless their conversation is.

Maybe I should say something, but a wave of apprehension unwinds in my stomach and uneasiness prickles my body.

“What about you? What’s your secret because your skin is so glassy,” Penelope asks me.

My brows hike up. “Oh, me? No, I don’t?—”

“Don’t be humble now,” Vi cuts me off. “Your skin is flawless.”

“It is.” Pen nods earnestly. “Thanks to Accutane my skin looks so much better, but I still have a few acne scars and don’t get me started on my pores,” she says but not in a way like she’s fishing for compliments but something she’s just pointing out. “I’d kill to have your skin.”

“I know this is hard to believe, but I don’t usually break out.” I have no idea who my father is, so I don’t know what his skin looks like. But I know Mom’s skin was impeccably flawless, so I guess I should thank her for that.

“No, I believe it. Danny’s dumbass best friend, Angel, never breaks out.” Pen scrunches her nose. Disdain flickers in her eyes. “Lucky asshole.”

My lips slightly jerk up again.

The few minutes we have left, they talk about makeup and what works for them. Even though I can’t contribute much because I haven’t worn makeup since Mom passed, they still include me.

It’s weird but kind of nice.

Before we part ways, Vi creates a group chat and insists lunch together is a must. I agree only because I wasn’t really given much of a vote. I know I’m being pessimistic, but I can’t help but wait for the shoe to drop.

It’s happened before. I’ll make friends, group chats will be created, and then I’m being excluded and not told everyone is going to be wearing matching pajamas. Or finding out through Instagram that everyone went out for dinner and a separate group chat had been made.

I blink the memory away and trudge down the brick way to my hiking seminar class.

“You never came up with your superhero name or secret identity.”

I gasp, head snapping up to my right at the idiot next to me.

Daniel leisurely walks next to me, the same smile from earlier still displayed on his face.

He’s wearing a hat, but it’s not backwards this time, and annoyingly, it looks good.

And right as I turn, I catch gold from the corner of my eye and realize he’s wearing a chain with a safety pin on it.

“We need names and secret identities, Jos.”

“Have you been behind me all this time?”

“No, but I caught up to you. You’re kind of a slow walker,” he says, amused.

I scoff. “I’m not a slow walker.”

“No, of course not,” he sarcastically draws out. “So, names and secret identities.”

“Why are you still on that? The discussion board is over; we got a hundred.”

“I’ll let you think about it.”

I cast him a deadpan look and stop in my tracks. He quickly catches on and stops too. We step to the side as a few students pass, and I wait until they’re gone to say what I need to get off my chest.

“What’s wrong?” Worry and confusion flicker in his gaze as they sweep over me.

My chest clenches, but I push past the discomfort at his expression.

“I’m not dead and I’m not going to kill myself.

So, for the love of God, stop acting like I am.

Stop following me. Stop looking at me. Just fucking stop.

Because before the cliff, you didn’t know who I was, even though I knew who you were. ”

I was going to pretend like our past interaction didn’t happen, but it did. He was the one who drove me to my house when Bryson was too drunk to do so.

“Josie, I?—”

“You’re free from obligation. You can stop pretending like you care.”

I leave it at that and stalk off.

He obviously pities me. Why else would he be this persistent?

I think I’ve read the first sentence in the email Monica sent me like twenty times. Every time I restart, my mind wanders to Daniel.

After I walked away, he showed up to class a few minutes later after I did. He didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t care to attempt to make conversation with him. Though we really couldn’t because Professor Carleson spoke the entire time. And Daniel ended up leaving forty-five minutes early too.

Twirling the ring on my middle finger, I shake the memory of him away and attempt to read the email again. But the moment I reach the second word, my laptop dings, announcing I’ve got a new email.

I blink a few times, dumbfounded at the name that appears on the top right corner for a few seconds before it disappears. I find it hard to believe until I go back to my inbox and see an email from Daniel Garcia, but it’s the subject line that severely throws me off.

Swimming Lessons

I stare at it for a long beat, my vision blurring in the process until I blink to clear it. Tentatively, I click on it and don’t feel any less shocked when I read his email.

——————————————————————

From: Daniel Garcia [email protected]

To: Josefine Resendiz [email protected]

Subject: Swimming Lessons

Date: Monday, January 13 11:11 PM

——————————————————————

Don’t laugh but I don’t know how to swim. I hear you’re the person who makes it possible. How’d you like to make that possible for me?

I’m so happy you’re here, Josefine! And I mean that.