I nod, feeling so on edge I'm amazed I could even do that.
"I saw you in the hall. I would've said hello, but you seemed in such a rush."
I gaze at him, wondering what he's doing here, all alone, at this swanky hotel on a Friday night. Dressed in a dark wool blazer, a black open-neck shirt, designer jeans, and those boots - an outfit that seems far too slick for a guy his age, yet somehow looks just right.
"Out-of-town visitor," he says, answering the question I hadn't yet asked.
And just as I'm wondering what to say next, Sabine appears.
And while they're shaking hands I say,,"Um, Damen and I go to school together."
Damen's the one who makes my palms sweat, my stomach spin, and he's pretty much all I can think about!
"He just moved here from New Mexico," I add, hoping that'll suffice until the car arrives.
"Where in New Mexico?" Sabine asks. And when she smiles I can't help but wonder if she's flooded with that same wonderful feeling as me.
"Santa Fe." He smiles.
"Oh, I hear it's lovely. I've always wanted to go there."
"Sabine's an attorney, she works a lot," I mumble, focusing in the direction that the car will be coming from in just ten, nine, eight, sev"
We're headed back home, but you're more than welcome to join us," she offers..
I gape at her, panicked, wondering how I failed to see that coming. Then I glance at Damen, praying he'll decline as he says, "Thanks, but I have to head back"
He hooks his thumb over his shoulder, and my eyes follow in that direction, stopping on an incredibly gorgeous redhead, dressed in the slinkiest black dress and strappy high heels.
She smiles at me, but it's not at all kind. Just pink glossy lips slightly lifting and curving, while her eyes are too far, too distant to read. Though there's something about her expression, the tilt of her chin, that's so visibly mocking, as though the sight of us standing together could be nothing short of amusing.
I turn back to face him, startled to find him looming so close, his lips moist and parted, mere inches from mine. Then he brushes his fingers along the side of my cheek, and retrieves a red tulip from behind my ear.
Then the next thing I know, I'm standing alone as he heads back inside with his date.
And I gaze at the tulip, touching its waxy red petals, wondering where it could've possibly come from-especially two seasons past spring.
Though it's not until later, when I'm alone in my room, that I realize the redhead was auraless too.
I must've been in a really deep sleep because the moment I hear someone moving around in my room, my head feels so groggy and murky I don't even open my eyes.
"Riley?" I mumble. "Is that you?" But when she doesn't answer, I know she's up to her usual pranks. And since I'm too tired to play, I grab my other pillow and plop it over my head.
But when I hear her again, I say, "Listen Riley, I'm exhausted, okay? I'm sorry if I was mean to you, and I'm sorry if I upset you, but I really don't feel like doing this now at-" I lift the pillow and open one eye to peer at my alarm clock. "At three fortyfive in the morning. So why don't you just go back to wherever it is that you go and save it for a normal hour, okay? You can even show up in that dress I wore to the eighth grade graduation and I won't say a word, scout's honor."
Only, the thing is, now that I've said all of that, I'm awake. So I toss the pillow aside and glare at her shadowy form lounging on the chair by my desk, wondering what could possibly be so important it can't keep until morning.
"I said I'm sorry, okay? What more do you want?"
"You can see me?" she asks, pushing away from the desk. "Of course I can see-" Then I stop in midsentence when I realize the voice isn't hers.
Eight
I see dead people. All the time. On the street, at the beach, in the malls, in restaurants, wandering the hallways at school, standing in line at the post office, waiting in the doctor's office, though never at the dentist. But unlike the ghosts you see on TV and in movies, they don't bother me, they don't want my help, they don't stop and chat. The most they ever do is smile and wave when they realize they've been seen. Like most people, they like being seen.
But the voice in my room definitely wasn't a ghost. It also wasn't Riley. The voice in my room belonged to Damen.
And that's how I know I was dreaming.