Page 15 of Insidious

His voice cracks like dead, brittle leaves skittering across a driveway.

“I’m here.”

Something warm and wet falls against my knuckles.

A warm, rough hand holds mine. I want to pull away.

“I’m here,” he repeats quietly.

But I wish you were not.

The beeping fades.

And suddenly, I am somewhere else.

***

Seven years roll back.

The smell of machine oil and metal dust fills the air.

I’m standing in the middle of the workshop, holding a clipboard and trying very hard not to look completely lost.

My hair is tied into a messy ponytail. I’m wearing the wrong safety boots, and the sleeves of my overalls are too long. They didn’t have my size. I had to make do with medium.

First day.

First job.

First time in a place where everyone seems to know exactly what they’re doing … except me.

Someone bumps into my shoulder.

“Sorry.”

I turn and look up. And up.

He’s very tall. Inky black hair. Clear blue eyes focus on me like there is nothing more interesting.

He looks younger than the other engineers. He also ticks all my boxes.

“New technician?” he asks with a smile as the shadow of a dimple appears on his left cheek.

I nod, unable to look away. He has shoulders for miles. His uniform shirt is trying its best to contain them and looks like the seams may give way any second. Where is the popcorn when you need it?

He smiles wider. Yep. Definitely a dimple.

“Welcome to 4space.” He reaches for the clipboard. “Luna, right?”

I blink.

“How did you—” I stammer, with all the grace of newborn giraffe on roller skates.

“I signed your training paperwork yesterday. You must have a copy on that clipboard in your hand.”

“Oh,” I reply eloquently.

He taps the page with a pen.