Page 40 of Burn for Me

Clearing my throat, I dab my napkin at my lips, trying to manage the saliva pooling in the corners of my mouth due to my nausea. I have no idea what the others are discussing. I lost track of that when I realized I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I can't express what's wrong, or I'll raise alarms, but I’m alsonotenjoying this slowly dying feeling.

I look down at Sam's hand, still wrapped tightly around my thigh. The spot went numb long ago, so I don't mind it anymore, but I know if I don't move soon, I might throw up. My head starts to spin, so I slowly redirect my gaze to the candle.

Get up. Move around. Where’s the waiter?

I dab at the corners of my mouth again. Sam eases his grip on my thigh to wrap an arm around my shoulder and draws me closer.

“What's going on?”

“Cover Sam.”

It’s becoming difficult to recognize the voices and where they are coming from.

“She gets like this when she’s too full.” There's a forced laugh. “All content and ready for bed.”

My hand drops to Sam's, hoping it will make him lower his voice. As soothing as I usually find it, it’s only adding to the throbbing in my temples.

“Jasmine…” Sam's voice is in my ear, his nose brushing through my hair as he quickly flicks his wrist until his fingers dig into my pulse point.

Everything is hazy, creating tunnel vision around the glowing orb of the candle, dancing in the dark spots that line my vision.This is my karma.I failed one side of the people I care for, then switched priorities to fail the other. Amidst the more incoherent voices, it takes all my willpower to concentrate on the flame so I don't lose sight of everything else.

“Darlin’ take a drink…”

I cough as my head tilts back, and a liquid goes down my throat, but as I feel the fizz, I start to gulp. Turning my head up properly so I can wrap my hand around the one holding the glass.

“Keep covering before they get suspicious.”Tide crackles.

There’s a clearing of a throat, and then a strained voice says, “You didn’t take your medicine today, did you, darlin’?”

I collect my thoughts as best as possible to raise my hand off his in a dismissive wave.

“I must've forgotten…” I pause, darting my tongue out to wet my bottom lip.

“Hypoglycemia,” I rasp while pushing the glass away, and Sam reluctantly sets it down.

“We have a dessert bar in the back. Since you’ve been granted access, I’d happily lead you to that area.” I turn my blurred vision toward the waiter, who looks genuinely concerned. “Mygrandmother has it. A little peanut butter cake always brings her right back up.”

Jonathan clears his throat, but I don’t look in his direction. If I do, the world will start spinning, and at this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if I passed out, so I nod.

“Please send the owner our thanks. He’s been so generous.” someone says in a voice so angelic that I’m convinced this is it–I’ve been granted access to heaven since I already served my sentence in hell.

Unlike usual, Sam is silent, but his fingers flex on my shoulder as he pulls me out of the booth to his side.

“You can thank him yourselves. He’s present tonight.” the waiter says.

“We’ll lose sight of you guys in there. In and out.”Tide commands.

I just want to be away from here, in a reality where I don’t have to choose between one persona or another, like in the hotel where thick covers engulf my form and Sam’s soft breaths lull me to sleep.

Sam's arm wraps around my waist as soon as we're up, supporting most of my weight without straining a single muscle. Everything feels like it's happening in slow motion. The waiter walks by, and the flickering lights illuminate the sideways glances we receive, but it's still hard to make out any individual faces.

I recognized someone earlier, but they didn’t see me. It's unlikely that I’ll encounter them again during this mission, but for a moment, I felt stuck. An overwhelming urge to run toward that person gripped me, but I mustered the willpower to remind myself that Ichosethis path.There’s no turning back now.

The room shifts from the smell of burning candles and Italian food to something sweet and musky. Strobe lights dance acrossthe floor that my heels click against, and the music swells into a deep rumble that vibrates through my bones.

I lean further into Sam, fighting the impulse to squeeze my eyes shut and dig my fingers into my eardrums.

“Can… hear—”Tide begins, but then it cuts to static.

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