Page 124 of Kiss Slay Replay

The soft murmurs of the void deepen into something guttural.

It’s shrinking. The colors begin to fade, swirling into shadow, retreating into the big, dark, hungry maw of the universe. It’s almost gone. It’s…

A final flash of light and a gust of wind that hits me like a train.

For a moment, I think it might crush me. But then the heaviness evaporates. There is nothing on my chest, no weight on my shoulders—no weight at all. No gravity. There is no direction, no up or down, right or wrong. It isn’t pleasant or unpleasant. It just is. And the feeling is over as suddenly as it started.

—

I come to on my back, blinking up at the trees, at the big, big sky.

I gasp for air, jump to my feet, but I’m lightheaded, off-balance, and I immediately stumble backward. Into something. Someone. I whip around, a scream tripping across my lips.

“Whoa, whoa.” It’s Danny. He puts his hands up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I…” Everything looks the same. The universe still appears to exist. But there’s no grim reaper, no strange floating iridescent portal. Did I destroy it? Is it gone? Is it over? Am I in the same timeline? Did I reset the old one? I check my limbs for bugs.

“Are you okay?”

“I…” I don’t fucking know. Am I?

“I’m Danny,” he says through awkward laughter. He smiles at me, and I’m so hopped up on adrenaline that I want to kiss him, or punch him in the face. Maybe both.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I say, wobbling. “I’m a little disoriented.”

He reaches out for me, puts his hands on my waist. Our eyes meet. We stare. God, I could stare at him forever. “What’s your name?”

“I’m…sorry. I’m, I’m fine. No. Yeah. I mean, I’m Willa. Willa.”

“Are you working the wedding?”

“I’m…” I look down. I’m still in jeans and a T-shirt. He’s in a suit. “Fuck! What time is it?”

He takes his phone out of his pocket. “Five-oh-three.”

“On Friday?”

He laughs. “Ah, yeah? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No! I’m late!” I’m running again, which is hard because my ankle hurts.

—

I arrive just in time for the ceremony—my hair a damp mess, barely any makeup, in flats instead of heels. My dress is free of margarita stains, so at least there’s that.

I’m not sure where I am. When I am. I’m not sure if I collapsed the wormhole or if it pulled me in during its final flare. Did I mend the tear in space-time, heal the cosmic wound? Did I somehow marry all the tangent universes, the different timelines? Did I obliterate the horror of this world by sending it into the void? No fucking clue. All I know is that I woke up in the woods, wearing the clothes I was in earlier, with dirt under my fingernails, and that my ankle is still sore from when I rolled it.

When I got back to the cabin, everyone was there dressed and ready, on the front porch taking photos.

“Where have you been?” Cassie snapped.

“Um, I’ll tell you later,” I said, hurrying inside. The ticker tape of my inner monologue was moving too fast, and I couldn’t read it, couldn’t focus. Couldn’t come up with a solid lie. “Don’t worry. I’m good! I feel good.”

She followed me in. “You’re going to be late!”

“I’ll make it,” I said, closing the door in her face and bolting for the shower.

Now I’m shimmying over her knees to sit next to her in the seat that I’m assuming she saved for me. “See? Made it.”