Page 6 of Accidentally Mine
She smacked me lightly.“Don’t do that!You can’t just keep spacing on me like that.I worry that you’re about to have some sort of seizure again.”
“Sorry, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I snapped sarcastically, the big joke being that it didn’t matter how hard I tried.
She’d seen me seize once before, so she had a reason to worry.She’d said that before it happened, I’d simply spaced.The next thing she knew, I was on the floor, thrashing in the subway car.Medication had helped reduce the frequency of them, so I’d only had one in the past six months, but like Claudia had told me, once was enough.I’d officially scared her to near death.
After that, riding the busy T became only something I did out of necessity, and Ernest became my chauffeur, in addition to my everything else.
I became aware of the heavy award I was holding in my hands.I had a place in my living room for such awards now, a shelf to show how important I was.This award, like all the others, had my name engraved in gold, the date, and:For outstanding contributions to fellow humans.
I should’ve been happy.Just be happy you’re alive!That’s what everyone said.
Fuck that.
I would give up all the awards if I could just have my fucking life back.
I placed the award on the seat beside me and stared out the window at the people walking the Common, trying to shake away the memory of that night.
But all I saw, still, clear as day, were those eyes.
Those brilliant turquoise eyes that felt like the answer to all my dreams—and haunted my every nightmare.
2
Roselynn
Jaywalking across a narrow side street, I hitched my bag higher onto my shoulder and pulled my cardigan tighter.Early May in Boston was warmer than Chicago, but I couldn’t ditch the chill that had overtaken me the minute I stepped foot in Beantown.
I pulled my Red Sox cap down over my wayward blonde curls and knew that I’d probably end up sweating by the afternoon.But that was okay.Give me thick sweaters and infinity scarves and wool socks any day.I hated the cold and loved being toasty.Plus, more clothes always felt like an added layer of protection against all the evil in the world.
When I stepped into the little café near Boston Common, the Sunday breakfast rush was over.There were mostly college kids, hanging out with their laptops, cramming for looming finals week.I scanned the place for threats, as I usually did, knowing I probably looked like a paranoid nutcase.
But that was so much better than the alternative.
There was one guy in a Red Sox cap leering at me, but he looked like an ordinary college creep.He pointed at his hat—he was wearing the same one as me.
I gave him a cautious smile.You found another Red Sox fan in Boston?Wow, what a stroke of luck!I’d learned that as a blonde, I got a lot more looks from the harmless kind of losers who just wanted a quick lay, the ones with horrible hygiene and cringeworthy pick-up lines.
Those guys, I could deal with.
It was the other kind I was worried about.
I squeezed into a booth in the corner and powered up my Mac.As I did, I pretended to focus on the screen as I checked again, to make sure I was alone.Peeked out the window to make sure that no one had followed me.
I was safe.Or as safe as I could feel in this town I’d grown up in.
As I entered my password into my computer, I felt someone’s presence hovering over me.I nearly jumped when I looked up at a familiar face, the cranberry-haired waitress who’d waited on me the past three days.She was probably middle-aged but had a youngish, cute, hip vibe to her, and I’d instantly liked her the moment she handed me a menu that first day.
“Hey, girl,” she said, holding her pen and pad at the ready.“You look like you could use a double.Tough day already?”
Par for the course.These days, I alternated between unhealthy suspicion and utter paranoia.
I smiled at her, noting her nametag.“Just a coffee, thanks, Anita.Regular, please.”
“And a chocolate croissant?”she asked, raising an eyebrow.“Just baked.Extra chocolatey and good.”
My mouth watered.Chocolate always got me.“Sold.”
She winked and disappeared as I returned to my laptop.I started to open up my latest story, but curiosity—and a little of that paranoia— soon got the better of me.I entered the Wi-Fi password and took one more peek around the place.Then I typed:Lyndon Reece.
