W hen I get back to the apartment after school, I rush to my bedroom. I rummage through my drawers until I find a pair of black gloves. Slipping them on, I look on my bed for the journal. I need to find out more about Onika.
I stare at the rumpled comforter, confused. Where is it? I left it right here. I begin yanking off the sheets, checking under the bed. But it’s not here. It’s gone.
I spin around, looking from the side table to the dresser, but nothing. Where is it?
“Alex?” I call out. A few seconds later he appears in my doorway, a sandwich in his hand.
“You rang?” he mocks, his hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Did you see a journal on my bed?”
He laughs. “Since when do you keep a diary? I would have certainly read it by now.”
“Did you see it or not?”
“Nope.”
My heart is pounding. I hadn’t finished reading it.
“Do you think Mercy would take it?” I ask.
Alex takes a big bite of his sandwich and talks through the food. “Probably. But when I got home she was walking out with Monroe.”
I freeze. “What?”
“You know, the superhero Doctor Swift? He was here when I got home. Then he left with Mercy.”
“Why?”
“Charlotte.” He waggles his food at me. “Do you think I know? Holy hell.” Alex exhales and turns to go back down the hall toward the living room.
I stand there, thinking this over. Monroe. He must have seen the journal and taken it back. Is he mad that I stole it from him? Quickly I check my phone to see if I have any missed calls, but I don’t. Not from him or anyone else.
Just then the doorbell rings. I think it’s Monroe and swallow hard, smoothing down my hair (because that would help?) before walking toward the door.
Alex is on the couch flipping through the stations as I walk past to the door. I brace myself for a fight with Monroe, but when I open the door and see who’s standing there, a whole new feeling comes over me. Harlin.
“Hey,” he says quietly. Folded over his arm is a gray cover on a hanger, holding his suit. His face is clean-shaven. His normally shaggy hair is combed smooth, sleek. Sexy.
“Hi.”
In his other hand, Harlin’s holding a white paper bag and holds it up for me. “It’s from Frankie’s. Thought maybe you’d be hungry?”
“You read my mind.”
“I’m hungry too,” Alex says from the couch, poking his head over the side. Harlin nods at him and reaches in the bag, pulling out a wrapped burger.
“Bacon and cheese,” he calls, tossing it to him.
Alex smiles. “My man.” He unwraps it and bites into it before wandering over to the kitchen. “Mmm . . .” he adds, looking over at us. “Bacon cheeseburger is so good.”
I take the bag from Harlin and set it on the counter as Alex breezes past me, grabbing his jacket.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He curls his lip. “God, nosy. Can I spend time with my own boyfriend? Oh, and tell Mercy I’ll be home for dinner.”
I laugh, but secretly I’m thrilled that he’s leaving. There’s no one else home. No one at all. I look back over to Harlin and see that he’s watching me. He makes no moves toward me, just leaning casually against the door. Like he has all day. It’s insanely hot. When he licks his lips, I just about die. I saunter back over toward him and wait. Alex needs to hurry up.
“Leaving now,” Alex calls, as if reading my mind. “You kids be safe.”
“See you later, man,” Harlin calls to him as he leaves. But once he’s gone, Harlin steps forward, reaches for me and pulls me into him. With his boot he kicks the door closed and brings his mouth incredibly close to mine.
“Been thinking about you all day,” he whispers, his eyes closed.
“What sort of thoughts?”
“I’ll show you.”
“I’m guessing it doesn’t involve equations or logarithms?”
“Don’t even know what those words mean. Now come here.” His mouth is warm against mine as he walks me backward and eases me onto the couch.
“I love you,” Harlin whispers in my ear. I snuggle into him, careful to keep myself covered. To hide the gold. “I was thinking about California today,” he adds, twisting strands of my hair around his finger.
I smile. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm. I’m looking at the weekend after you graduate—we could stay in Monterey for a few days, then head down to San Diego. Stay a week, maybe two.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“It will be. Who knows,” he murmurs, moving to kiss my neck. “Maybe we won’t come back.”
I close my eyes, lost in this moment. Lost in him.
But it’s amazing; when I’m with Harlin everything feels right—like pieces of a puzzle that fit together to make a picture. And in the big picture, it’s just him and me. Without the Need.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, turning from side to side. Harlin is getting dressed in my room for the charity ball while I shower. But now . . . I’m not sure I can go.
The sickness of my reflection is washing over me, and I’m too stunned to cry. I had hoped that the injections Monroe had given me would help my skin. Help it grow back. But the flesh on my shoulder is gone. There is a golden shimmer underneath, although I’m not quite sure what it is. I touch it, but there’s nothing, no feeling.
I want to be normal. I just want to be a regular person with all of her skin! Standing over the sink, I start to cry, but then I remind myself that Harlin is here.
Quickly I wipe my face and then turn on the shower. The stitches in my head will get wet, but that’s the least of my concerns.
The steam is all around me as I step in, letting the water hit my face, wash away the streaks of tears. I can’t help thinking about my Needs. The pharmacist and how easily he would have ended his life. How he didn’t change and that’s why my Need switched to his mistress. That was the first time I didn’t convince someone. I wonder if the Need will always find a way. If it’s that strong.
Suddenly Onika’s face pops into my head and it’s as if she’s right in front of me, standing under the water. It’s washing away her makeup, and her skin underneath is gray, filled with cracks like a desert floor. She smiles.
My eyes fly open and I step back from the water, swinging out my arms. I can’t see her. The steam is thick and I feel a chill, like I’m not alone. I’m gasping as I reach for the knob to turn off the water. But I’m fumbling. What’s wrong with her? Why does she look like that?
My hand wraps around the faucet and turns off the water as I’m pushing past the shower curtain. But just as I step onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor, my foot slips out from underneath me. In a swift motion I fall back into the tub, grabbing the curtain for support but pulling it down with me.
When all is still, I look around the room, feeling confused. The steam is fading and I’m alone, the plastic shower curtain crumpled on top of me. She’s not here.
I sit up in the tub, touching the back of my head to make sure my stitches are still in place, and I’m not bleeding. But the horror of my thoughts still clings to me.
There’s no one here but me. I’m starting to go insane.
I wrap myself in my robe and peek out the door. I hear the TV blaring a football game from the living room, so I know Harlin is in there. I dash into my bedroom and lock my door.
I sit on my bed, breathing heavily. Onika’s face. It was so horrible, so decayed. Is that how she looks, or is my mind playing tricks on me? I push my robe off my shoulder and stare at the gold. It’s vibrant and bright.
I’m pulling my robe tight around me when I look up and see the dress from Sarah’s closet hanging on the back of my door. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but realize that it must have been here all day. Sarah had it delivered.
They love me—Mercy, Sarah. Harlin. Even if they’ll forget some of the memories we’ve created, they’ll never totally forget me. Not when I’m still here, seeing them every day. Loving them back.
I walk to the closet, looking over the navy blue dress and jacket. It’s pretty, and thankfully, it’ll cover the gold. When I reach out to touch the fabric, I catch sight of my hand—the skin there missing and obvious without the gloves. Mercy has thick foundation in the bathroom, and I can use it to disguise the spot. Just enough to get me through the night. A night without the Need—I hope.
I don’t take long to get ready, mostly because my hair dries quickly. The foundation works well enough, maybe not to close scrutiny, but enough for a charity event. A touch of lip gloss and a dash of perfume, then I make my way out to the living room.
My boyfriend is sprawled on the couch, the remote in his hand as he watches the TV intently. God. He looks good. He’s wearing a black suit with a thin tie, his hair smooth. His shoes shiny. It’s like he could walk the red carpet of a movie premiere. But instead he’s on my couch, waiting for me. Watching SportsCenter.
“Miss Cassidy,” he says without looking over. The fact that he knew I was here checking him out but didn’t say anything turns me on.
Sarah had texted to say she was sending a car because she didn’t want us showing up on a motorcycle. I supported this idea. My hair would not hold up in the wind.
I see Harlin’s lip curve with a smile as he looks sideways at me. “Come here,” I say quietly. Without any hesitation, Harlin clicks off the TV and walks over, looking me up and down.
“So beautiful,” he says. I grab him by the tie and pull him closer to me, kissing him hard on the mouth. I can’t wait anymore. I need him.
I’m a combination of heat and desire as we stumble down the hall toward my bedroom, attached at the lips. His fingers are knotted in my hair and my hands have slipped off his fancy jacket. The town car can wait a little longer.
When we get into my room he pushes me against my door, closing it and pinning me.
“I love you,” he says. “I’ll always love you.”
I unbutton his shirt as his hand lifts up the hem of my dress. My clothes will stay on, and that should work well. I just want to be lost here with Harlin.
Always.