“‘Cause it feels like I’ve met you a hundred times, but I saw you for the first time last night.”
“Uh…” said Jack. His voice vibrated in his jaw. His throat felt like it was full of bees.
“Wanna tell me how that’s possible?”
Jack’s response caught in his lungs. He swallowed, tried again. “What if I told you the feeling was mutual?”
Maybe he shouldn’t admit anything. Boris was thunderously suspicious, his fiery gaze capable of melting steel. Jack might be reduced to ash under the weight of his scrutiny.
Then Boris lowered his head, forehead thunking against the desktop. “I’d believe you.” He let out a groan, long and low. “What the fuck is going on, man? Did we dig up a body in the woods? Am I losing my mind?”
“Oh,” said Jack. Horror crawled through his bones, nestled into his very marrow. “Oh, shit.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
They tradedthe whisky bottle back and forth. After about twenty minutes, Boris’s anger faded into incredulous despair.
“You feel like someone I met in a dream,” he complained, taking a swig of whisky, spinning in circles in his chair. At some point, he’d taken off his shoes, revealing grey socks that looked like something he’d fished out of a dumpster. “I barely remember you, but Irememberyou. You know?”
“Kinda,” slurred Jack, making grabby hands for the whisky bottle. Boris clutched it to his chest, mocking offense, then handed it over.
The whisky burned all the way down.
“I propositioned you, huh?”
Jack nearly choked on his next sip. “Uh, yeah. Twice, actually.” Something like panic crept into his throat. “Sorry, I just—I thought maybe it would be wrong to sleep with someone who wouldn’t remember what happened the next day.”
“Right,” said Boris slowly, frowning into the distance. “Thanks, I guess. Real thoughtful of you.” There was something strange in his tone—not quite anger. Disappointment?
Jack opened his mouth to say something reassuring, something to take the sting from the rejection, but Boris beat him to it. “So did we dig up a body, or what?”
Jack wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
“Aw, shit.” Boris scratched at his jaw. “Really?”
“Yeah. I, um… What do you know about what’s going on?”
“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, sharp as daggers.
“I mean, what’s your, uh, your perception of events?” Jack gestured around the lobby, as though this might help clarify things.
“My perception ofevents?”
Jack sighed. “What do you think is going on, Boris?”
“I don’t know,” Boris growled, reaching for the whisky. “I had weird dreams during my lunch break.” He shook his head. “I feel like I have these weird dreams a lot, but it’s only been one day.”
“Yeah,” said Jack, rubbing his temples. “About that… It hasn’t been. Not exactly, anyway.”
“The fuck do you mean?” Boris snarled, gaze snapping back to Jack’s.
He shifted uncomfortably, crammed his hands into his pockets. “It’s… We’re living the same day over and over again. Almost nobody has noticed yet.”
A scowl deep as a canyon carved itself into Boris’s perfect face. “No way.”
“I’m not kidding.”
