Blackout, p.14
Blackout, page 14
Zoe peeks at me out of the corner of her eye. “You were with Mason again this morning.” I don’t respond, squirming in my seat. “You were with him at your party too.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
She crinkles her nose as we round the corner. “Still sore about that, huh?”
“Possibly.”
“Is something going on between you? You had that dream about him too.”
“No!” I protest, cheeks burning. “Why would you think that? I barely know him.”
Zoe shrugs innocently, pulling up to the coffee shop that Audrey and I walked past yesterday. I find myself looking over my shoulder, hoping that Officer Edwards won’t make a reappearance. We exit the vehicle, ducking under the overhang of the shop roofs to escape the rain. She pulls open the door to the coffee shop, gesturing for me to go first, and I step inside.
The air inside is significantly warmer, and the smell of espresso and coffee beans reaches my nose, making me feel a little less on edge. For the past week, my body has been a tightly wound coil of tension, and I can’t get it to unravel.
“The two of you have a weird vibe,” Zoe remarks, and I take a break from perusing the menu to give her a look. “I’m not blind, Allie. I remember you saying you were friends in elementary school, but that was ages ago. What’s up with you guys now?”
“I don’t really know,” I admit.
An unreadable expression crosses over her features. “Kind of odd, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
She gestures as if it should be obvious. “You weren’t friends for years, and now that you suddenly lost your memory, he wants to reconnect? It just seems kind of suspicious to me.”
I frown, pondering the accusation, and she steps up to the counter to order two Americano mistos. As we wait for our drinks at the side, I listen to the gentle music floating down from the speakers and the coffee grinder.
“I don’t think that’s what he’s after,” I say. “It doesn’t seem like he wants to be my friend.”
“All the more reason not to trust him. Who knows what he might have to gain by getting close to you.”
She grabs both of our coffees then leads the way to a table near the window, and I feel a surge of annoyance. She doesn’t even know Mason—granted, I don’t exactly know him either—but the feelings I get from him are genuine. Kind of like Parker, yet different altogether. I’ve never felt like he’s had any ill will toward me.
But maybe I’m being naive. I have no idea what his true intentions are.
I settle into the seat across from her, my mind once again going to the day I was reintroduced to Amber and Whitney. Bringing my mug up to my lips, I let the drink warm my fingers.
“Did anything happen between us?” I ask.
Zoe frowns. “Who?”
“You and me. I just remembered what Whitney said about us making up.”
She looks confused for another beat, before laughing and shaking her head. “Whitney doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “Allie, we used to get into arguments all the time. They never really meant anything.”
As she takes a sip of her drink, I watch her carefully, noting how she keeps her gaze riveted to the table. “Are you sure? Because if I did something to offend you . . .”
“Trust me,” she remarks. “I’m not easily offended.”
She fixes me with a knowing smile, and I do my best to return it, trying not to let my hesitation show on my face. Audrey hadn’t seemed all that surprised about how Zoe treated me at my birthday party, and she essentially implied I used to do similar things to her. Best friends one moment, at each other’s throats the next. It wouldn’t be a stretch to conclude that things might not have been peachy between us before my accident. Maybe it’s something Zoe doesn’t want me to know, or maybe she’s trying to be courteous of my condition by hiding the truth.
“Anyway.” She sets her mug on the table, looking at me sympathetically. “I thought you might want to talk about what happened with Damien.”
I hold back a groan at the sound of his name, placing a hand to my forehead. My coffee curdles in my stomach as the image of his dejected face pops into my brain. “How is he?”
“He’s . . .” she begins, her voice light, before deflating. “Not that great.”
“Judging by the way he was looking at me today, I figured as much.”
Zoe winces. “You kind of destroyed his heart.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says quickly. “He feels everything very strongly. And he’s used to getting what he wants. Life has been easy for him. His future was looking bright, he got a soccer scholarship to UBC, he was seen as a promising athlete who was going to make it big one day, he had you . . . I think he feels like part of his perfect future is slipping away.”
Tension builds in my shoulders. “He wanted too much from me,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t feel like I had any other choice. I understand that you’re his friend, so I don’t want to make things weird by—”
“Allie.” She reaches out, placing her hand over mine. “You’re my best friend. You made the right decision. I’m not choosing sides, I’m here for both of you.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” she emphasizes. “He’ll get over it eventually. James and I are your friends. I wanted to tell you that on Friday, but you ran off before I had the chance.”
I sag in relief. It’ll be hard to figure out how to navigate my relationship with Damien, but school is suddenly sounding a lot less lonely than it felt today. Despite the times when we’re at odds with each other, Zoe is essentially my only friend. “Thank you. I was worried you guys might hate me now.”
A flash of my nightmare comes back to me, the three of them descending in my direction with soulless eyes, and I clear my throat, suddenly tense.
“Please, we’ll never hate you.” Zoe swirls her coffee in her mug. “Do you think there’s any chance of you guys getting back together?”
“God, no,” I choke out, nearly spitting out my drink. Zoe sits up straighter, lips twitching. “If I’m being honest, I don’t even understand how we were together in the first place. We just seem so different.”
“Good to know,” she says lightly.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I start, leaning back in my seat. “People keep telling me I used to get into all kinds of trouble, and I’m assuming you must have been there for at least some of that. Is that true?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she remarks, looking amused. “We were real-life partners in crime.”
“Tell me more.”
“Last summer we spent a week in Vancouver pretending to be other people, sneaking into clubs, and other places we definitely shouldn’t have been,” she says. “Don’t even get me started on that guy we met who claimed to be a prince . . .”
As she tells me stories of our scandalous adventures, I realize there are times when I feel at ease being with Zoe. It makes it seem as though all the bad stuff never happened, like I really can trust her, almost to the point where I wonder if I’ve created all the drama in my head. She’s self-assured and sturdy, and there’s a safety that comes with being in her presence sometimes, like no matter what happens, we’ll be able to handle it together.
I wish we had more days like this.
The rain is aggressive by the time Zoe drops me off at home, angry dark clouds hanging low, pummeling the pavement with water, and I make a mad dash for the front door. It’s quiet in the house when I enter, and I assume both Audrey and Sofia are at work.
After ditching my coat and shoes by the door, I head up to my bedroom, schoolbooks in tow, hoping to get some work done while I’m alone. It doesn’t take long before I’m immersed in my biology textbook, eyebrows creased in concentration.
Out of the blue, my cell phone rings. I dig it out of my backpack, going still when I read the name on the caller ID.
Mason.
My time with Zoe nearly made me forget my conversation with him this morning. A flurry of nerves forms in my belly, and I stare at the phone for another beat before answering it, placing it against my ear.
“Hey,” I say timidly.
“There’s something I think you should know,” he remarks, skipping over the pleasantries. “Meet me outside.”
The call disconnects before I can say another word.
13 | Reveal
Moving to my bedroom window, I peer outside. Beyond the rain-splattered glass, there’s a pair of gleaming headlights parked on the street below, a little ways down from the house. I back away, wondering if Mason saw me.
The abrupt nature of his call paired with the urgency of our conversation at school leaves me with a bad feeling, yet I can’t tamp down the intrigue I feel at the prospect of having a chance to talk to him alone, uninterrupted.
Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror, suddenly self-conscious. There’s no time to do anything about my appearance, so I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to detangle it.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I throw on my raincoat and Blundstones again, preparing to head outside. But the door bursts open before I can, and I move out of the way as Sofia enters, her arms laden with grocery bags, droplets of rainwater resting on the shoulders of her woolen coat.
“Help me with these, would you?” she asks, huffing out a breath.
I quickly relieve her of a couple of bags, follow her into the kitchen, and set them down on the island. Anxiety wriggles into my brain, and I catch a glimpse of the street outside where Mason is waiting in his car. He might leave if I end up taking too long.
Sofia sighs, shrugging out of her coat and draping it over one of the stools. “Can you help me put them away?”
“Actually,” I say, fidgeting with my fingers. “I was just on my way out.”
She stops moving, looking as though she’s properly noticing me for the first time, taking in my jacket and boots. “Where are you going?”
For some reason, I feel compelled to lie, and the words come easily. “I was with Zoe earlier,” I say. “I left something in her car and she’s dropping it off. We might talk for a while. She’s outside already.”
Sofia’s eyes flicker to the window, noting the pair of headlights. Between the night that’s fallen and the rain, it’s impossible to tell the make of the car. “Oh,” she remarks. “Well, don’t stay out too late.”
Exhaling subtly, I nod. “I won’t.”
I hurry to the front door before she can change her mind. When I step outside into the rain, the world feels muted. My boots splash in the steadily forming puddles as I toss my hood over my head and stick my hands into my pockets, trying not to squint at the bright lights.
Reaching the car, I brace myself before grabbing the handle of the passenger door, pulling it open, and sliding inside. I instantly feel the rush of heat blasting from the air vents in the car, and I shiver involuntarily as I push back my hood.
“Hey.” The low voice comes from beside me, and I turn to look in Mason’s direction for the first time.
His blue-green gaze is riveted to my face, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead, and I can see that the ends are damp, as though he rushed over here and it wasn’t all that long ago that he was out in the rain too. I’m suddenly very aware that we’re in a small, enclosed space.
“Hey,” I return, the word coming out breathier than I intend. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry for acting so strange.”
“You’re kind of freaking me out,” I admit.
“For weeks, I’ve wondered if I’m reading too far into things,” he remarks. “But I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I lied to you.” When he sees my look of confusion, he continues. “On your birthday. I didn’t actually leave when I said I did.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Why?”
“I had a hunch.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, agitation emanating from his posture. “Something is off about your friends. Have you noticed?”
“What do you mean?” I press, shifting in my seat to angle myself toward him, listening to the downpour hammer on the hood of his car.
“They’re hiding something,” Mason says, before looking at me squarely. “I overheard them talking about you.”
My fingers tangle themselves together anxiously. “I got into a fight with Damien that night,” I confess. “He was really upset. I have no doubt in my mind he was telling them about it.”
“It wasn’t that.”
“You’re scaring me,” I say again.
“That might be a good thing.”
“Mason, just tell me.”
He hesitates, an uneasy expression on his face. “They said they were worried about you remembering the truth.” A chill runs down my spine. “And that they’re going to make sure you don’t.”
“The truth about what?”
“I don’t know,” he says, searching my face. “That’s all I heard.”
Letting out a breathy laugh, I turn away from him and look out at the poorly lit street. It suddenly seems a lot more threatening than it did only moments ago, despite the fact that my house is only a few steps away. “Well, that could be anything,” I reason. “Right?”
“It could be,” he offers. “But it doesn’t sound good.”
“Anything can sound bad out of context.”
“Alina,” he says. “Do you really believe that?”
I don’t say anything, and he seems to accept that as an answer.
“There’s something in my gut telling me there’s more to your accident than what everyone has been told,” he finishes. “Have you felt it too?”
In my periphery, it feels like branches are creeping steadily closer to the car, but when I blink, they disappear.
Yes.
I begin to feel lightheaded. “This cop keeps questioning me. I thought it was weird, but . . .”
“Something isn’t right,” he reiterates.
“Hold on,” I say, lifting a hand, feeling my eyebrows pull together tightly. “Are you seriously trying to say that my friends had something to do with it? What reason do they have to do something like this?”
When he doesn’t immediately deny my claim, it deepens my feeling of dread. Distantly, I hear a peal of thunder, and it sets my teeth on edge.
The lights from the houses on the opposite side of the street illuminate Mason’s face, and he swallows visibly, taking the time to consider his words before answering. I feel a flicker of doubt.
Mason suddenly dropped back into my life after years of being absent from it, and though some of that was my own doing, could that mean he has ulterior motives?
All the more reason not to trust him.
A motion light snaps to life outside my window as a cat saunters by, and it causes me to startle, heart pounding.
“The night of your accident,” Mason says, not seeming to notice my uneasiness. “I—I was at the party.”
I frown, my fingers inching closer to my door handle. “I thought you didn’t like parties.”
“I don’t.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I went. But I saw you and Zoe get into a fight.”
“Apparently, we fight all the time,” I counter.
He glances at me warily, not seeming to appreciate my defensive attitude. I can’t help it; I’m starting to learn that trusting people blindly isn’t a wise thing to do. “It looked serious. Lots of people saw. And when you left that night, you weren’t alone.”
Panic creeps into my chest again. “How do you know?”
“I saw you leave, Alina,” he tells me. “Your friends followed you out. But you were found alone.”
The second the words leave his mouth, I’m plunged back to being in Dr. Meyer’s office, deep in the throes of complicated visions. Leave me alone, I’d heard myself say, my voice clogged with anger, straining to be heard over a pounding bassline as I stalked to the front door. And then I see the scene from my nightmare again, Damien holding on to me with a viselike grip as Zoe and James block the door.
My hands begin to shake, and I look away from Mason’s prying stare. “Why are you even telling me this? What’s in it for you?”
The atmosphere in the car changes, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him flinch, clearly put off by my accusation.
“You think I’m doing this for me?” His voice is louder now, incredulous.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
He scoffs. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know you, Mason,” I blurt, turning to face him again, and a flicker of hurt dashes across his features. “What am I supposed to think? Who am I supposed to trust?”
Mason’s mouth opens and closes before he presses his lips together firmly.
Feeling agitated, I drag my fingers through my hair. “You tell me we used to be friends, but you won’t tell me what happened.” He looks away. “Maybe you did something to me. Maybe I shouldn’t be friends with you. I mean, I don’t even know what you think of me. Zoe has supposedly been my best friend for years.”
“I didn’t . . .” He trails off then shakes his head, his jaw ticking. “I have nothing to gain by telling you this. What reason would I have to lie?”
