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“Your guess? That’s comforting.” I laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious? I’m not supposed to worry when you can’t even give me a decent answer to my first question?”
Michael focused somewhere over my left shoulder. His voice was firm when he spoke. “I’ll get the answer. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” I said, doubt almost crowding out curiosity in my mind. “Have any of the rips ever known anything about you?”
“What do you mean?” His gaze returned to my face.
“Like your name, or …” I trailed off. Maybe I should keep that specific incident to myself. I pictured the list of questions in my mind. “Um, when you know you’re seeing a rip—how do you approach it?”
“Very slowly.” Michael grinned, breaking the tension.
I was still fiddling with the rosebud in the vase. Sidetracked by his smile, I stopped paying attention and tipped it over, spilling water onto the table.
Good thing I wasn’t on a date. I might’ve been embarrassed.
We reached to pick up the vase at the same time, and our fingertips touched. A current of energy pulsed through his hand to mine. My skin felt too small, stretched too tight, as if searching out more exposure to his. I heard several pings, and the table went dark.
Something was very, very off.
I slowly raised my eyes to meet Michael’s. The muscles in his face tensed; his expression was completely unreadable. Confused, maybe scared, I pulled away. I could still feel the way electricity had flowed through his fingers to mine, all the way to the roots of my hair. The remaining lights returned to normal.
I could’ve sworn I was twitching. Michael tucked his hand under the table and stared down at his menu.
“Um … what was that?” I asked, my voice wispy air again as I watched the water from the vase soak into the white tablecloth.
“It’s kind of complicated.”
So it really happened. “Did we cause it?”
He nodded, his face poker straight.
“Have you ever experienced that before?”
“Not exactly.”
The waitress arrived to take our orders. The interruption did nothing to resolve the tension. I just wanted her to go away so I could touch him again. Instead, I held my menu up in front of my flaming face, willing my body back to normalcy. Michael ordered the special, and without even looking to see what it was, I did the same.
“I’ll have that right out,” the waitress said, taking our menus. She eyed the sconces above the table, her hot pink lips pursed. “And I’ll bring y’all a candle … it’s dark over here, isn’t it?”
Neither of us answered, and she walked away. I felt exposed without my menu to hide behind.
“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” I asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you it’s better to leave it alone for now?”
“Is there another option?”
“Probably not.” He lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile, but his eyes didn’t get the memo. “Maybe you could go ahead and ask me your other questions.”
“How about ‘what the hell was that?’”
His expression practically hung out a shingle announcing the topic was off-limits.
“Fine.” I tried to catch one of the thoughts racing through my mind so I’d have something to say. I couldn’t, so I retrieved my list and laid it on the table in front of me. “How do you tell the difference between real people and time ripples?”
“You mean besides punching them in the stomach?”
I blushed, not because I’d hit him, but because I was thinking about his abs. “Besides that.”
