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My stomach turns over.
“I don’t know about tonight. I should head b…” He inhales, then he blinks, freezing. Realization ripples through his eyes before they inch toward me and widen.
I clap my hand to my mouth to trap a scream.
Breath fully fills his lungs and holds. He swears.
I step back, wing bones hitting the front door.
My nerves electrify.
Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a… How does one not be a creep? My best role model is a sister who grumbles Japanese at people in Walmart, only eats with her hands or chopsticks, and brings her emotional-support carrot cake plushie everywhere she goes. Creep isn’t just in my genes. It’s practically my inheritance.
“Ollie, you’re staring.”
Doliver’s eye twitches, and his attention jolts to the other man, who smirks as he bites into his cookie.
“Zylus, behave,” Willoughby notes as she turns the TV on, passes the remo—
What…was I thinking? Is the TV searching through movies on its own? What’s going on? Am I…am I breathing correctly?
I don’t think so.
Maybe I’m not breathing at all.
I…
Heat pours through me, rushing under my limbs. That scream I’ve held in builds and builds until the pressure is too much. Zylus blurs. Willoughby blurs. Doliver blurs.
The last thing I hear is Doliver’s swear as he lunges for me. The last thing I see, on the very edge of consciousness, is a dark-skinned woman in a flowing green dress seated on the floor before the TV, holding a remote.
Chapter 3
~~~~~~~~~~~~
brittnys_barely_breathing
“What is she doing here?” The furious tone pricks into my groggy mind, drawing me slowly out of the darkness.
“Ollie, calm down,” Zylus notes.
Blearily, I squint and find Doliver’s frantic pacing beside the soft white couch I’m stretched out on. My eyes close again.
I’m dreaming.
That makes sense.
What a lovely chaos dream I’m having. All full of my favorite things—the celebrity I’m obsessed with, cool people I wish could be friends, soft couches.
“I invited her to movie night,” Willoughby states. “She came for movie night.”
“That was a year ago.” Doliver’s usually level, melodic voice pitches.
“Ollie,” Zylus tries again. “Sit.”
Silence pervades, then Doliver’s wounded murmur comes a mere few inches away from my head. “…I don’t appreciate that, Zy.”
“Please take a breath.”
