“He knew that was the wrong file.” The words spill out of me as I make my way over to her.
The press release is still displayed on my phone, making me lose all sense of direction. Home? Aidan’s place? Every building is blurring together.
“You coming?” Her voice echoes as she walks away. The sea of people moving around me is in slow motion, just dragging my body along with the current.
“Stop sulking and move!” Her words boom pass the people. A sharp pang hits me.
“Now!”
What feels like a brief spasm around my heart swells into a deeper pain. The longer I stand here, nothing changes.
“It’s not going to be a pretty outcome if you just keep standing there...”
“Okay, okay…” I sigh.
One step forward and the pain around my heart stops.
One step back and it starts up again.
I repeat this a few different times until I have come to the conclusion that it is clearly a reaction to me following her direction. No one in the crowd seems to notice I am doing the hokey-pokey…
Catching up to her, the cool air wraps me up. The wind blows in the direction of where we are heading. Hugging my shoulders, I heave with every step we take uphill.
I take a large inhale to get my next words out. “I am really trying not to be an asshole at this moment, but I am having a hard time not thinking you are a Satanist.”
Her voice softens as she drops her shoulders to her side, stopping to answer me. “Isn’t it exciting not knowing what I am going to do next?”
“No, not really,” I say, forcing my feet to keep walking in her direction. Her hair flips to the side as she powers through the street. Each stride is purposeful.
Today, I had the brilliant idea of wearing a spaghetti-strap blouse. While everyone else on this street somehow knew to check the weather and wear a jacket for the random gusts of wind that decided to show up, uninvited.
I didn’t think that far ahead.
I rub my arms up and down, warming myself up—bit by bit. The majority of the walk, I am losing myself in my own thoughts. With my phone in hand, I open the screen to check for new messages.
The streetlamps flicker on and off as we tread down the street. A similar electricity issue as I experienced at Holden’s house.
“Did you do that?” I say as another streetlamp completely blows out.
“No. Just keep walking.”
My knees buckle when we make it over the steep hill, keeping my eye on her every step of the walk.
“Is it another block or what?” Along with my choice in shirts, my wedges were probably going to cause a sprained ankle.
“Funny enough, we are right here.”
“OH.” I take a long pause, looking at the building in front of me. My gut instinct should be to yell and scream. Instead, the only feeling lingering is my irritation. If I don’t go in, who knows what heart attack I might suffer.
“You could be sending me off to my own murder,” I say, stepping to the front entrance of a poorly painted yellow building with a red neon sign in front showing the restaurant, Casa Amigos is opened.
“I don’t wannaaa…”
The necklace is only growing brighter when I swing the door open. It feels as if everybody is lasering in on my entrance.
The entire restaurant becomes one giant popsicle, freezing me to death with their stares and cold air.
My posture straightens quickly when my eyes land on the familiar denim baseball cap and black aviator sunglasses in the corner booth.
