Page 75 of The Crush Next Door

"Nice try, bro," Josh said with a smirk.

"What?"

"We either write it down or say it at the same exact time."

"Okay. Fine. I'll ignore the fact that you think I'm some kind of cheater," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "Just say it on the count of three. Ready?"

"Ready."

"One, two, three... 4.9."

"4.3," Josh said.

"Oh, wait. What are we betting?" I asked, digging for the remote that always slid down between the couch cushions.

"Play-offs game," Josh said with zero hesitation.

"Ooh, I'll enjoy that one," I boasted prematurely.

I found a local station and they were just reporting on it, showing the seismograph needle scratching up and down.

"...and the U.S. Geological Survey has announced that the quake occurred on a previously unknown strike-slip fault near Palmdale. We've had reports of people feeling it as far south as San Diego. Emergency personnel is currently out on patrols to assess any damage, but so far nothing significant has been reported."

"Well, that's good at least," Josh said, jiggling his knee. "But we need numbers."

"Despite the late hour," the newscaster continued, "Dr. Lucy Jones will be calling in soon to discuss how there's a five-percent chance that this quake could be a foreshock to a larger earthquake still to come."

"Oh, God. That's always reassuring." Dropping the blanket, I stood up and went to the kitchen. "You want some beer and ice cream?"

"Uh, what do you think?" came Josh's slightly sarcastic response from around the corner.

Laughing, I grabbed two beers and two cartons of Ben and Jerry's, plus several spoons. Right when I walked back into the living room, I spotted the magnitude displayed on the TV. 4.7.

Yes!

"Hey, how long's that been on the screen?" I accused Josh as I sat down and placed our much-needed supplies on the coffee table.

He didn't answer, instead grabbing the bottle opener and popping the top from his beer. He did the same for mine, and I couldn't help thinking that was a kind gesture. Or maybe he was trying to distract me from my question.

"Well, it doesn't matter," I said, watching him inspect the ice cream carton, reading the flavor. "I won. I won. I won. You lost. You lost. You lost," I sang.

Finally, he met my eyes, grinning and shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Sing away. Overall, I'm still the victor, four to two."

"Well, that's not much to brag about really. Very slim margin."

"It's still a winning record."

"Whatever," I muttered, giving him a sideways glance before returning to my half-baked ice cream, digging around for some cookie dough.

For a while, we sat in comfortable silence, eating and drinking while listening to the amazingly smart Dr. Jones talk all things earthquakes. I knew from the past that there was always that five-percent chance of something bigger happening, and it was a bit unsettling, especially in the middle of the night.

During the day, in bright, hot, sunny Los Angeles, it was easy to forget that we lived on shaky ground in the Ring of Fire. But nighttime was always a different story. Or maybe it was just me.

I glanced at my phone. Almost three in the morning. Wow. Devon would probably be getting up soon. All the way on the opposite end of the country. Three-thousand miles never seemed so far away.

And then, the date hit me. Hit me like an avalanche of grief that suffocated me, flooding my soul with pain and remembrance. August first. That night was what haunted my dreams, careened me off into nightmares that replayed that horrific moment over and over.

"What's going on?" Josh asked. "Is it Devon?"

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