“Mom!” she calls through the rest room door.
“Just a minute, baby.”
I wipe my mouth and run the cold faucet, patting my head and cheeks with the cool water.
Cereus is waiting for me as I exit.
“Where’s your Dad?”
“He left in a hurry. What happened?”
“Come and sit down.”
“Mom, you’re scaring me.”
I guide her over to the table and sit, taking her hand in mine. “There was a murder at your school. One of the teachers.”
She pulls from my grasp. “Which teacher? How? What?”
I stand up to get her some water, knowing she’ll take this hard. Art is her passion and her favorite part of school. I hand her the glass, which she disregards. “Just tell me, Mom.”
“Mr. Wallis.”
Her chair screeches back and she rushes from the room. I know she’ll need space so I fight all my instincts to follow her, and pick up the glass of water and drain it.
This is too close to home. Too familiar, too terrifying. It’s as if my nightmares have manifested into my waking hours.
I hear the front door slam, pulling me from my panic. “Blake?” I receive no answer. No one entered.
Cereus.
Cereus must have gone to the school to see what’s happening, and she’s in shock. I throw some sweats and sneakers on and go looking for her.
“DO YOU LOVE ME?” CEREUS asks. She’s wearing that white dress from the photograph her friend sent me.
“I can’t love you.”
“Are you trying to hurt me?” A tear leaks from her eye but it’s not clear, it’s red. It’s blood.
“No, not yet.”
“Are you going to?”
“YES.”
“You sound like you want to hurt me. Do you?” she asks, reaching out for me
“Yes. More than anything.”
I jolt awake. What the fuck? I never dream.
My breath tastes fucking awful. My first priority today is to buy floss and mouthwash. I peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth. I drank too much last night. I can’t remember coming back here, but here I am in my barren apartment, on the floor. The only difference is I have covers, and a pillow supporting my head. I squint against the light reflecting through every window and bouncing off the walls. I need drapes or blinds. I don’t need people looking in at me. I sit up and my heart pounds slightly in my chest when my eyes fall on a blonde woman lying on her stomach, naked, in the middle of the room. Fuck. I jump to my feet and look around to see how visible we are to anyone outside, and then the bitch makes a weird noise and I panic more. She’s not fully dead, and making noises when my neighbors will be up and getting ready to go to work. Any one of them can see in if they’re nosy, and let’s face it, I’m a new, single, good-looking guy. Of course they’re going to be nosy. I take a few tentative steps towards the body and bend down to move some hair away from her neck so I can check her pulse. Green eyes flash to mine.
“You seriously checking for a pulse?” she asks, shifting onto her ass and pushing her hair from her face. She has no make-up on and her eyes are a little glossy. She’s naked and comfortable enough not to cover up.
I’m so confused and I’m not sure what she’s doing here. “You’re the neighbor,” I say, and she studies me for a second.
“Wow, that drunk?”
“What the fuck are you doing in here? Did we fuck?”
She looks over at the duvet and pillow I woke up on and smirks. “Well, we didn’t cuddle.” She stands up and sways a little. I don’t steady her. I can’t believe I fucked her, blacked out and she’s still standing, breathing. “Don’t sweat it, Ryan. I was drunk too and it was fun. I’m not one of these clingy women. You don’t have to pretend you don’t remember.” She picks up her scattered clothes and gets dressed. “I know you don’t care but I just want to say I don’t usually do things like this. It was fun to laugh and fuck with no agenda or strings.” She shrugs and I’m lost. I feel like I’m tripping out.
She opens the door and crashes straight into Cereus, who looks like she’s just woken up herself. They do an awkward dance around each other and Blondie laughs and apologizes, but Cereus only has eyes for me. She’s out of breath.
I rush over to her and clasp her cheeks in my palms. “What’s wrong?”
“This is going to sound crazy and you may hate me for asking, but I need to,” she says quickly.
I drop my hands and fold them over my chest. She blushes when she notices I’m wearing only a pair of boxers. “I don’t know why I’m asking you and you may hate me for thinking it but . . .”