Page 69 of Head Under Water

I could ask her to swap, but I can already hear the shouting from the crowd as the strangers are asked to step forward and volunteer. There’s no time. I rush into the last remaining room and shut the door behind me.

Now I really don’t know who will find me here.

Not Paul.

Is that better? Worse?

Completely anonymous.

Darkness swallows me whole, so consuming I can hardly think. I force out a slow, steady breath and the old wood groans, settling around me. Dry leaves rustle underfoot when I shift my weight.

I freeze. The sudden silence is loud in my ears.

They’re coming.

I hear footsteps approaching, and then a door in the distance opens. Another immediately follows. Those same footsteps stop outside mine. My door opens just slightly, and my heart lodges in my throat.

Whoever it is, they’re right there. Close enough that I can hear the shift of weight on dry leaves and see their shadowy silhouette.

They linger, watching.

Silence stretches, tight and suspended.

I draw in a deep breath.

Without warning, the door closes with a slam and the footsteps retreat, heavy and sharp. Almost storming away.

They left.

I swallow, listening to the silence. What am I supposed to do if no one comes for me? Just wait here the entire time? How embarrassing would that be? But it would be worse to leave, wouldn’t it?

This time, the footsteps approach slower. There’s a pause, like someone is lingering just outside. I clasp my hands together in front of me.

Creeeeak.

The door opens again slowly, and I track the same shifting shadow entering the small space. They came back.

The door clicks shut, cloaking us in silence together.

Slow, heavy footsteps drag toward me. My breathing hitches as I wait.

I’m not scared, though maybe I should be.

I’m…thrilled. Excited.

I’m anonymous here, and so is this person. We’re going to have fun. I’m allowed to have fun.

Jess would love this. She’d want me to do it. She’d be proud of me for putting myself out there. I can’t wait to tell her about it.

I squeeze my hands together as the person finally draws close enough I can feel their body heat through the pitch-black. I have no idea how close they are, so I reach out a hand. My hand connects with flesh. An arm. It’s ropy, fit and defined. I brush my fingers across the soft hair there.

He lets me feel him, my hands roaming over his forearm and up his bicep.

There’s a sharp inhalation of breath, and when I step closer, the room spins. Because I know that cologne. I’d recognize it anywhere, the lingering trace of ocean, rain, and drenched earth that remains on the couch after Will visits.

My stomach drops. Pulse spikes.

A flame smolders in my core.