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It was a little early in the morning to get turned on. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet, and there my roommate went, sticking her perky little ass in my face and pirouetting around our postage stamp living room in her leotard. I swiped my thumb and fingers across my eyes until they pinched the bridge of my nose. “Morning, Beth.”
Beth spun on her dainty metatarsal, holding her body aloft like a music box figurine. Her frizzy, dark hair created a delicate halo around her round face, and she gave me a brilliant smile. “Morning!”
I shuffled across the parquet flooring, my pink bunny slippers a perfect match for my crop-top and pajama shorts. It was my favorite loungewear set, which had only been solidified further when I had savagely bested Ghost and all his rippling muscles and assassin-style glares in this exact outfit. Served him right. He had deserved to get trounced by a bunny for choosing a profession that kidnapped people.
I crossed our A-frame, top-floor apartment and rounded the corner into the enclosed, itty-bitty kitchenette. I shared a space with Beth above her parents’ picturesque Leavenworth home, and it had a whole lot of charm and very little space. There were lots of windows lining the walls, and the peaked ceilings added some breathing room, but the one-bedroom, one-bathroom, renovated area was more for sleeping than living. We did have one love seat and a TV the size of a poster in the living area, but neither of us had time to use it, anyway.
I shivered as I passed a window wall to my right, and looking out, I found that the patches of grass along the narrow street beyond had been covered in frost overnight. A heavy fog had settled over the mountains, trickling down the pine forest and into the charming, old-world village. Leavenworth had retained so much of its history, with its brightly colored, German-style homes and businesses, it felt like living in another era.
Beth had already brewed a pot of coffee in our cheap coffeemaker, so I grabbed a random Santa mug from the sunshine yellow cabinet above and filled it with coffee that warmed my face with steam as I poured it. Beth literally danced into the kitchen, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead and her cheeks flushed. She’d put on a simple, long-sleeved, black leotard, and her white dance tights were bunched around her ankles because she was so short. I had a crush on her, but alas, Beth was straighter than uncooked spaghetti.
She leaned around me to get a glass from the cabinet. As she filled it with water from the tap, she glanced at me. “You slept like shit again.”
Ah, shit. It was getting harder to hide my ever-looming fears as time dragged on. I was free for now, but the terror that trailed behind me like weights was beginning to make its mark on my psyche. I took a sip of black coffee and then cleared my throat. We both turned and leaned against the counter next to each other. “Sorry. Did I keep you up?”
“Not really.” She sipped her water, her hazel-green eyes searching my face. “I know we’ve only been roomies for like two months, but you can tell me. About the nightmares.”
I gulped down a scalding, bitter mouthful of coffee and stared forward, my eyes resting on the little dinette set on the other end of the narrow room. “It’s not nightmares. Just insomnia.”
Beth had one of those cherubic, round faces that always looked a little soft, no matter how stringently she tortured her body to be thin and willowy. And at the moment, she looked almost child-like as my rejection settled over her. “Oh.”
I swallowed more coffee and pushed away from the counter. “Thanks for asking, though. How did your practice go?”
“Good,” she smiled. “Although, I still can’t believe I’ll be starting at CAL in like three months. It’s freaking me out.”
“You earned it,” I reminded her. When I’d met Beth, she had just gotten her acceptance letter to CAL Arts in California—an opening that had been made available after another dancer had dropped out. It was the chance of a lifetime for her, and she’d worked her entire career for it.
“Yeah, yeah,” she smiled, waving a hand. As she set her glass in the sink, she perked up, like she’d remembered something. “Oh, Dylan texted. He wants to know if we want to go on a hike with him this morning.”
“Which hike? Because if he says the traverse, then he’s out of his fucking mind.” I toed a chair away from the table and sat in it, pulling the bunny hood of my top over my head to combat the chill seeping in through the windows.
Beth snorted. “That was a disaster. No, I told him if I’m hiking, I’m not doing something that will break an ankle and ruin my entire life. We’re just doing Blackbird Island.”
One of the more tourist-friendly hikes, it looped around Blackbird Island for two miles, and the trail was well-worn, flat, and most importantly, easy. I saluted her with my Santa mug. “That, I can do.”
“I’ll use my parents’ shower downstairs,” Beth said, traipsing across the parquet floors gracefully. “Bathroom is all yours.”
I finished my coffee, relishing the quiet solitude with the mist swirling around outside the windows and autumn colors exploding in bursts around the quaint village below. As I put my empty mug in the sink, a floorboard creaked behind me. I assumed Beth had forgotten something, and I turned to find her. The empty room held its breath, perfectly still. No Beth. Frowning, I shuffled forward, and my slippers shushed against the smooth floors as I leaned out of the kitchen to look around the small living space. From where I stood, I could see the three-piece bathroom with its door open, and then our bedroom on the opposite wall. No one else was here.
“Old houses,” I muttered.
I went to the bathroom and started the shower, undressing as I waited for it to warm up. The square mirror above the pedestal sink fogged up, and I stared at my opaque reflection, surveying my face that already looked foreign to me. Two years of this life had taken a toll on me. Brown eyes that had once been bright and feverish with excitement were now shadowed by light purple bruises from sleepless nights. My skin had gone dry and flaky along with my lips, and my long, blond hair hadn’t seen a salon in years. I tried to stay active, but maybe turning twenty-six was likely to change my body no matter what I did. I still retained my tall, lithe frame, but my breasts had grown fuller and the definition in my arms had faded away. It wasn’t easy to get gym memberships on the run.
Sighing, I stepped into the porcelain, clawfoot tub. As I pulled the shower curtain closed, a shadow shifted on the other side. My heart kicked to life with a painful lurch, and I swished the gray shower curtain aside. Steam curled around the small bathroom, swirling over black and white tile, and disappearing beneath the narrow wood door. My chest rose and fell fast, matching the tempo of my galloping heart. My eyes danced around the bathroom. Nothing.
Sighing, I closed the curtain. This was going to kill me, I decided. Being constantly on the run, constantly alert to danger—it wasn’t healthy. But what other choice did I have? If I relaxed for one moment, if I let my body settle and my mind relax, then I’d find myself in a penthouse in New York in two blinks.
And he’d be waiting for me there.
We met Dylan at the trailhead just off Front Street, and he waved at us from where he stood at the edge of the bridge that would take us over the Wenatchee River. Dylan had on a swishy, navy-blue jacket and dark green cargo pants that were just very Dylan. The guy loved hiking, canoeing, geocaching, and probably trail mix. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure about the trail mix thing, but he looked like he enjoyed trail mix. He had a soft, friendly face and a lean body that I couldn’t help but admire, and he had put a worn ballcap over his curly black hair.
The crowds in Leavenworth were especially busy around Oktoberfest, even if the event had been more than a week ago, so we certainly weren’t alone for our hike. While Dylan and Beth chatted about the new “Dancing with the Stars” episode, I let my gaze meander through the sparse crowds of tourists. Most of them wore puffy jackets and warm hats and gloves, and their breath plumed out in opaque mists as they chatted and laughed. A flash of someone in all black caught my attention, and I whipped my head to the left. Tourists. I scanned them frantically, but the splotch of black I had imagined was just that—a figment of my terror. I released a slow breath as we walked, and the thin trees stretched out under a cloudy sky.
I’m losing it, I thought with despair churning my thoughts into a murky sludge. I’ve been on the run too long, and I’m starting to see things. Maybe I should join a nunnery. Are nunneries still a thing? Oh, God, but then I won’t be able to have sex. Maybe I should have myself committed.
We walked for a while, meandering to the right of the river that spanned a fair distance with a wide, slow-moving expanse of water. It hadn’t snowed this season yet, but the chill from the water drifted over us with each breeze. The further we walked, the fewer people we saw, and I forced myself to be calm, to take in the moment and enjoy the fresh air.
“Oh my God,” Dylan exclaimed.
