We share a little laugh that feels out of place amid the teenage angst swirling around us. For a moment, I almost forget we’re trapped in our old bodies with no clear way out.
A familiar figure catches my eye. It’s Chloe, making a beeline for us with murderous intent in her eyes.
“Skyla,” she hisses, grabbing my arm. “We need to talk. Now.”
I glance at Logan, who gives me a subtle nod.
“Fine,” I tell her. “Let’s see what the heck you have to say. Lord knows I’ve heard it all before.” Literally.
Chloe drags me toward the stairwell that I know leads to the basement where Emily’s paintings are stored—the same basement where, in our original timeline, we fought and I swallowed the flower of terror.
We descend the stairs, and I glance back, relieved to see Logan in hot pursuit, and a thought hits me.
“Are we sure we should be following Chloe down here?” I whisper his way. “Last time this ended with my face sliced open and a haunted you-know-what slicing open my other end.”
Logan glowers at the chestnut-haired beauty, ready to wreak way more havoc than that haunted rose could ever hope to accomplish. “You’re right. Let’s not repeat past mistakes.” He takes my hand and pulls me back up a few steps. “Bishop, we’ll catch up with you later.”
Chloe spins around with a fresh new fury flashing in her eyes. “Excuse me? You don’t just walk away from me, Skyla Messenger.”
“Actually, I do.” I manufacture a smile just for her. “And you get to watch me do it, too.”
We backtrack up the stairs, leaving a fuming Chloe behind us to seethe and pull her hair out, dig out her own eyes, or whatever else turns on the Queen of Mean when left to her own demonic devices. Chloe belts out a scream with enough force to rattle the walls.
Ah, teenage drama—so much more entertaining when you’ve already lived through it once.
“What now?” I ask as we make our way back to the tangle of half-drunk bodies. “Candace said we need to stay here to secure a happy place we can come back and visit, but she was pretty vague on the details.”
“I guess we just live in the moment. And make sure we don’t accidentally start a war.”
“Sounds like a solid plan to me,” I agree. “And since we’remaking the best of it per my mother’s orders—if I remember correctly, there were some pretty spectacular brownies at this party.”
“And Ellis provided the special ingredients.” He shrugs. “What the hell.”
We’re about to head for the kitchen when we spot Gage across the room, leaning against a wall and staring at his shoes as if each one broke his heart in turn. Gage was sort of a professional brooder back then. And well, in the future, he’s still known to make an art out of it on occasion.
“We should talk to the poor guy,” Logan grunts. “He’s moping pretty bad.”
“Oh, let him hone his skills,” I say as we start moving toward the kitchen once again. “At least this time we can enjoy the party without all the jealousy and angst.” I was going to addand the raging hormones,but I decide to leave that part out—mostly because I happen to have them in number and can’t seem to shake them.
We make our way across the room, and I marvel at how different everything feels the second time around. What once seemed like the end of the world—Logan’s secrets, Chloe’s horrid manipulations, Gage’s wounded looks—now feels like nothing more than stepping stones that led us to where we needed to be.
And yet a part of me wonders if those stepping stones are about to become a path that leads us much farther from home than we ever planned to go.
8
Chloe
Emily’s house finally starts to empty out now that it’s almost one in the morning, leaving behind the usual carnage of red Solo cups and the lingering stench of cheap beer mixed with even cheaper cologne—West Paragon High’s signature, sorry ass scent. I should be exhausted, but instead I’m electric, every nerve ending firing with frustration.
This is supposed to be MY night. My welcome back to the land of the living party. Idied. I came back. And yet somehow, Skyla Messenger still manages to make everything about her.
I lean against the railing of the second-floor balcony, watching the last stragglers stumble toward their cars through the fog. From up here, I can see everything—including Skyla Messenger’s pathetic attempt to avoid me. Running away must be exhausting when you’re dragging two leashes behind you.
But that wasn’t even the worst part of tonight. The worst part was Gage. I had him. Actually had him listening to me, letting me touch him, looking at me like I mattered.
Then Skyla shows up, and suddenly I’m invisible. He practically shoved me away the second he laid eyes on that blonde idiot. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it. Just extracted himself from my arms and walked off like I was contagious.
The rejection stings worse than Skyla’s dismissal. At least with Skyla, I expect the hostility. But Gage? For a minute I thought maybe... But no. One glimpse of precious Skyla Messenger and I cease to exist.
