It felt strange to move now, like his joints were full of glue. His keys hung on the hook by the door to the garage. Gordon dangled among them. Wordlessly, he lifted the keys off the hook and handed them to her. Emmy took them, separated Gordon from the rest, and stared. She didn’t sayanything for a very long time, but her breathing hitched like she was holding back a sob. Finally, she whispered something, her voice strained.
“What?”
“It’s red,” she repeated, then pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. After taking a deep breath through her nose and letting it out slowly, she ran her finger over the flashlight and spoke again. “It’s red… and it’s a cylinder.”
“Yeah? What does that mean?”
She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of unshed tears. “When I read about it… I pictured it blue and with that traditional flared shape on one end.” She paused, twisted the end of the cylinder to turn it on. Stared without seeming to see for another beat of silence. Finally, she twisted it again to turn it off. “I pictured a little button on the back to turn it on and off.”
When she reached out to hand the keys back, they jingled because her hand was shaking. He took them and replaced them on the hook more due to habit than a conscious decision. He was still watching her, waiting for the pieces to click. He was also still reeling at the fact that she’d known he’d named his flashlight.
“Did you name it Gordon because ofFlash Gordon?” she asked, smiling weakly.
“Yeah. I was seventeen and thought I was clever.”
“That was my guess.”
“Can I ask… why you’re so sad now?” Will said carefully.
“I’m sad because… if I was hallucinating this interaction, this house, this… flashlight… based on a book I’d been reading… then the flashlight should have looked howI imagined it. If this is a world conjured up by my mind, everything should look how I imagined it, shouldn’t it?” She pressed a hand to her mouth for a moment before speaking again. “I prepared myself for proof that this was all in my head. I didn’t consider, even for a second, the possibility that instead I’d prove to myself that I’m really in a book. But I just don’t see any other explanation right now, and I’m freaking out.”
Will didn’t want to respond because her reasoning made a little too much sense. He was right there with her, reeling from the implications of what she’d said and done. She absolutely should not have known Gordon’s name. However, he was not ready to take the same leap as her. There simply had to be some other explanation for what was going on.
“Are you trying to convince me that I’m a book character and you were… what? Magically transported into the book?”
Emmy threw her arms out in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. This shouldn’t be real. Thiscan’tbe real.” She paused, frowned a little. “That damn sex psychic.”
“The damn what?”
She shook her head. “Look, I have to go find something to wear besides my duck pajamas, and you’re probably going to be late for work again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, after your car broke down, you were—”
“Woah, hold on.” Will held up a hand to stop her. “My car didn’t break down.”
“It didn’t? But I read… Wait, what day do you think it is?”
“It’s Thursday.”
Emmy tried to adjust to yet another mental blow in what had been a long series of them. She’d fallen asleep on a Tuesday. How was this happening? Was she really in a book? Jesus, was she missing from the real world? What would May think when she missed her wedding due to being trapped in a fucking romance novel?
No. Stop. One step at a time, Emmy.
“Okay… okay. That means what I read hasn’t even happened yet. Your car broke down in the beginning of the book. You had to go to a mechanic and that’s where you met your love interest.”
“Stop saying me! It’s not me!”
“Right. Sorry. Will, the book character, has a meet-cute at the mechanic.” She paused, bit her lip. How much should she reveal? More detail meant he might believe her quicker, but too much, and she might change something. “Her name is Bright.”
“Come again?”
“Bright. Her name is Bright. Like the opposite of dim. That’s literally how she says it. If meeting a beautiful woman named Bright doesn’t convince you you’re in a romance novel, I don’t know what will.” When Will just stared at her, she steeled herself for the next step. “So, you have to get to work. I have to get away from here. And I don’t have any money…”
“You want me to give you money.”
“Enough for a change of clothes, yes. I’d also like a shirt or something so I can cover my bra-less tits.”
