Page 57 of Perfectly Us
Me:You don’t have to tell him anything right now. We can take it slow.
Whateveritis.
Shiloh:Ok.
Another text comes through.
Shiloh:I really wanted to kiss you tonight.
I smile and snuggle more into my pillow, holding the phone up so I can text him back.
Me:Me too. Your lips are like my favorite thing ever.
Shiloh:Better than a burger from Papa’s?
My smile widens, and my chest gets this weightless sensation to it, like maybe I’m still flying from when Shiloh kissed me the other night on his bed.
Me:Definitely better <3
I don’t know what the future holds for me and Shiloh. I go off to college in the fall. It’s only twenty minutes away, so not far, but anything can happen. Feelings can change. People do too. Will we still be seeing each other by then?
There’s no point in thinking about it right now.
All I can do is make the most of the time I have and live each day as it comes.
Chapter Twelve
Shiloh
I’m running down the street, my shoes pounding on the pavement but somehow not making any sound. Dark clouds stretch above me, and there’s a distant rumble of thunder.
I haven’t had this dream in a while, not since I talked to Dr. Larson about it. The scenery is the same: a row of empty houses on each side of me, the street deserted. The awareness that it’s a dream doesn’t change the fact that I do the same thing every time.
I run.
And I keep running.
Because I’m searching for something. Whatever it is, I know it’s at the end of the street. I just have to be fast enough and reach it before I wake up. Areas of the pavement begin to darken as rain begins to fall, one drop at a time. The harder I run, the longer the street stretches out in front of me, like I’m stuck in one of those fun houses at carnivals.
I’ve always hated those. They do a number on my anxiety, especially the hall of mirrors. The one and only time I ever went inside one, I panicked and curled up into a ball on the floor, the carnival music playing overhead on an endless loop. My dad found me like that. I was seven.
I was anxious even back then. It should’ve been a sign, I guess.
“Have you considered the possibility that these dreams aren’t you running toward something, but rather, you running away?”
I skid to a stop on the pavement as I remember what Dr. Larson said. I don’t turn around though. I stand still, the rain coming down harder.
For some reason, I’m scared to look behind me. Not because I think there’s a ghost or Jason Vorhees or that creepy doll from theAnnabellemovies. I could handle those.
I’m afraid of something else.
A truth I can’t quite face yet.
I open my eyes to a dark room and turn over to check the time on my phone. 5:45 a.m. The sun will rise in another twenty or so minutes. There’s no point in going back to sleep. I doubt I could even if I wanted to.
After getting out of bed, I take a quick shower, then get dressed and go downstairs to start a pot of coffee. Soft voices come from the landing at the top of the stairs. I pause as I pour water into the machine and accidentally spill some. I grab a rag and wipe off the counter as light steps sound on the stairs.
I creep over to the arch in the kitchen and peer out into the entryway just as a man reaches the front door. He’s dressed in a nice suit and has short blond hair. I’ve never seen him before. He turns and looks up the stairs, smiles, then quietly leaves.
