Timestorm (30 page)

“Gatsby would never make the perfect husband,” Jackson says, sipping his beer.

“Oh come on. He’s amazing and mysterious and so … devoted to one woman.”

“The guy’s a nutcase. Mentally unstable and shut down,” Jackson says. “But maybe it’s an improvement for some people.”

I laugh and he glances in my direction. “Holly’s a sucker for Shakespeare.”

Just the way his eyes are zooming into mine gives me goose bumps and I run my hands up and down my arms. Jackson pulls a sweatshirt out from behind him and tosses it at me. “You look cold.”

“Thanks,” I say, and then roll my eyes. “I never said I liked Shakespeare.”

I slide my arms into his shirt and he motions for me to move closer. And I actually do. Maybe because I’m bored or possibly because I’m a little too curious.

“Forget what I said, Terri,” Jackson corrects. “She likes sword fights.”

Terri giggles again and then sighs. “I love
Romeo and Juliet 
… and
Hamlet
.”

“Hamlet’s awesome,” Jackson tells her. “Death, suicide, incest … what’s not to like.”

I laugh again and Terri glares at me. I’m not trying to be mean, but I totally can’t help it. It takes a halfway smart guy to actually remember what the story’s about, but to know it well enough to make fun of it, now that’s pretty freakin’ cool.

“Actually, I did like one line in the play,” he says.
“I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

“That’s a very useful line,” I joke. “Any metaphors? Or theories on the hidden meaning?”

He turns to me and pulls the borrowed sweatshirt over my shoulder. “I turned in a ten-page paper about how that line represented the male preoccupation with size and got an A. But really it was a complete load of crap.”

“That I believe,” I say.

He leans in closer and my voice stops dead in my throat. I don’t know why he’s moving so close and why my heart is racing and why I’m totally frozen. Then he whispers, “Are you going to scream if I tell you there’s a bug in your hair? I’m just asking because it would ruin my chances of hooking up with this chick.”

“In that case, you’ll thank me later,” I say through my teeth. “But please remove the bug.”

He reaches a hand in my hair and pulls something out before tossing it behind us. A shiver runs down my spine and Jackson smiles, and says, “It was just a beetle. No big deal.”

And then it’s like his face changes. He’s staring at me with such an intense look and I can’t look away. Then his free hand moves over my hair again and he tucks it behind my ear. “All clear now.”

“Thanks,” I say, and somehow I just know if he keeps staring at me like this, we’ll keep moving closer, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. And suddenly, I’m fighting this urge to touch his face. There’s a tiny bit of stubble on his chin and I’m dying to run my fingers over it. Instead, I take my free hand and sit on it.

He says something in French and it pulls me from my daze.

“Huh?”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Sorry, I meant to say that in English.” His eyes unlock from mine and dart in Terri’s direction and then back to me. “That was just one other
Hamlet
quote I can handle without gagging.”

“Which one is that?” Terri asks, although she’s supposedly fluent in French. Guess she forgot.

“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face and you make yourself another.”

“Yeah, I like that one, too,” I say. “So many ways to interpret it.”

Terri gets up to get another beer and I nudge Jackson in the shoulder. “Seriously, don’t hook up with her … I mean, do whatever you want … but I know her pretty well and she giggles and squeals way too much … Of course if that’s your type?”

Now I’m babbling like an idiot and Jackson grins at me. “It was a joke, Holly.”

I can’t help but love the way he says my name. It just sort of rolls off his tongue like the double R’s I can never pronounce correctly in Spanish. “But you and Terri have so much in common.”

He smirks. “Like French poetry, right?”

“Yep, something I know nothing about.”

“Me either. I just pretend,” he whispers dramatically. “But don’t tell anyone.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he says.

“Why do you have a job … I mean it’s not like you need the money?”

With the blazing fire in front of us, his blue eyes really stand out. More than usual. “Well … I used to be a camper … and me and my sister loved it so I thought it might be fun to do the whole counselor thing.”

“Your sister?” I ask.

He looks at something over my shoulder and then jumps up. “Sorry, I almost forgot. Adam’s got a little … project for me … I’ll talk to you later.”

“Um … okay.”

“Keep the sweatshirt,” he calls over his shoulder. “Happy graduation.”

I lean back and watch him retreat toward Adam, standing near the woods. What the hell are they doing? Maybe “doing a project” is polite, rich-kid code for finding a place to pee outside?

And then I see the shadow of a third person behind them. Someone following him? Or he has a bodyguard? I’ve never asked him what his parents do for a living, but the dude who always picks him up after work has this thing in his ear, like the Secret Service wear.

I wrap Jackson’s sweatshirt tighter around me and press the sleeve up to my face, inhaling the scent. That one little whiff of his cologne must have done things to my head because I got into my tent with David last night and had the most amazing and totally hot dream about another guy. Now I’m trying to figure out how to contact Jana while she’s on a cruise. I need some girl advice in a major way.

Love,

Holly

*   *   *

We’d reached the end of the second page and Holly looked up at me. “You remember this, right? You weren’t really trying to hook up with that Terri girl, were you? I remember her fairly well and she’s obnoxious.”

I was almost too stunned to answer. We’d somehow landed back in the 2009 I thought I’d erased. My head spun trying to figure out how we got back to this point, and I couldn’t come up with a solid explanation. Although this story wasn’t exactly how I remembered it, but it could have been Holly’s translation.

“No, I wasn’t trying to hook up with her, I thought she was obnoxious, too, but before my life turned crazy, I often entertained myself by having random conversations with annoying or weird people. Especially while in Jersey.”

Holly scooted back and turned her body toward me. “But you were totally trying to steal me away from David, right? Because it really seems like you did a good job of that. I had no idea you were such a flirt.”

That got me to laugh. “Yes, I was a flirtatious coworker but no, I wasn’t trying to steal you from David, though I toyed with the idea for a little while. Until I met him and decided he was a better guy than me.”

She held a hand to her heart and gave a dramatic sigh. “So tragic. But I told you there was potential, the fact that you didn’t steal me away, it’s like a soap opera, isn’t it?” She eyed me curiously. “You’ve been in my bedroom before, haven’t you?”

I laughed again and rubbed my eyes. We’d been awake for probably twenty-four hours. “Yes, I have, but that happened much later than today’s date. July or August, I think.”

Holly snapped the diary shut and jumped up, grabbing random items from her closet and heading toward the bedroom door.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m getting my own clothes, taking a shower with my own shampoo, and then I’m going to climb into my bed and go to sleep.” She shrugged like I should have guessed this myself. “Don’t worry about everyone else. Trust me, Adam knows me well enough to guess where I went. I’m sure they’ll be pissed off, but nobody is going to think we were kidnapped or anything.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s out of town,” Holly answered from behind the bathroom door now. “It’s in the diary. And I guess this means I’m in the clear with the duplicate-Holly issue. She doesn’t seem to be hanging around anywhere.”

While Holly was in the shower, I picked up her diary and flipped through it quickly. I could tell there were changes from the version Stewart had discovered, the same one Emily had read and begun recording on paper, back at Misfit Island. There were entire entries devoted to updates about Deludere Virus. In mid-May, she wrote an entry about having gotten into NYU and how the housing situation was up in the air. If they didn’t find a cause for how the virus was transmitted, they wouldn’t be able to offer student housing in the fall. And the camp I’d spent practically all of my childhood summers at was no longer busing kids out to the woods. Instead, everyone stayed in the newly secured YMCA building with hired security officers at the doors. But Holly still worked there and so did Adam and I, apparently.

Holly’s mom hadn’t wanted her commuting to New York every day and she had to promise to be home by dark. She even mentioned a few classmates who had been hospitalized and never returned to school.

“Finding anything juicy?”

Holly’s pajama pants and tank top seemed to fit better than any of the Misfit Island clothes she’d been wearing. She looked too happy for me to destroy that by explaining the differences between her life and the other original 009 Holly’s life. I inhaled slowly. “I remember that shampoo.”

The contrast between Holly’s cleanliness and my less-than-clean self gave me an excuse to escape to the bathroom and compose myself mentally. I decided to use her toothbrush without permission. I also found a washcloth and removed the dirt still left on my hands and face after the Eyewall explosion. It took me a while to return to Holly’s room mostly because I couldn’t shake that sad feeling that I kept getting hit with every time I thought of my life before all this. My time with the first Holly I ever met was truly gone. I’d never get it back.

“You look cleaner,” Holly said. She tossed me a T-shirt from her second drawer. “This should fit you.”

I yanked my dirty, long-sleeve shirt over my head and dropped it onto the floor. Before I could put the other shirt on, Holly moved closer, examining the scar on my chest.

“Maybe we should get tattoos,” she said offhandedly, her finger now tracing the scar. “Well, a second one for me, a first for you.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine. “Why don’t you look excited?”

I forced a smile. “I’m excited, totally. Tattoos, diaries, clothes that fit, candy bars, it’s awesome.”

The grin fell from her face. “What’s wrong? We can go back if you’re worried about your dad and everything. Of course you’re worried. I’m sorry, I should have—”

“It’s not that.” My eyes focused on the T-shirt in my hands and not on Holly’s face.

“What is it, then? What 2009 thing do you want to do? Just tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

I glanced around at the room, feeling myself smile a little, for real this time. Then I put Holly’s shirt on and sat down on the bed. “I think this is exactly where I’d like to be. It’s nice here.”

She folded her arms across her chest, staring me down. “You just feel sorry for me because I’m infected. My bucket list is more important than yours, right?”

I laughed and looked her right in the eye. “My bucket list has items that you don’t want to hear me say out loud, trust me.”

“Oh, I get it.” She plopped down beside me. “You had other things on your mind when I mentioned hanging out in my room. Of course you did, you’re Jackson Meyer the flirtatious coworker.”

“Exactly.” I stretched out on the half of her bed next to the wall and let my eyes close, enjoying the idea of sleep.

I felt Holly’s head rest on the pillow beside mine. “Tell me the truth, why are you really upset?”

“I can’t explain it in words, it’s just that feeling you get when you know something good is over and you can’t have it back,” I admitted, despite my desire to keep her happy.

“Me? That’s what you’re upset about? The Holly you met before?” Her voice was calm, not judgmental or defensive, which I took as a good sign.

“It’s not that exactly.” I opened my eyes and turned my body to face hers. “I can tell you’re afraid of me, being close to me like this. And the other Hollys were never afraid, and I hate thinking about the things that happened to change that for you. Mostly one thing.”

She was quiet for a long time, and then finally said, “I’m not afraid of you, Jackson, not even a little bit.”

I reached out and touched her wet hair. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you know that, right? I’m not capable of ever doing what Carter did to you.”

“I know that.”

“Then ask me again what I really want to do tonight.” I rested my hand on her cheek, barely brushing her skin with my fingers.

“What do you want to do tonight?” she whispered.

I scooted closer, moving my hand from her cheek to her waist, and then I leaned in. “This is just for this
you,
okay?”

She gave a tiny nod before her eyes fluttered shut and our lips collided gently. I kissed her probably a thousand times until we both fell asleep, our limbs tangled, our chests pressed together.

*   *   *

“Jackson?”

Tiny cold hands gripped my arm and shook me gently. I peeled my eyes half-open, squinting in the dark, catching only a flash of red hair. “Courtney?” I looked closer, catching more details.

I shot upright. “Emily!”

She reached out and clapped a hand over my mouth. “Shh!”

Then I felt the empty space beside me. “Shit! Where’s Holly?”

“She’s in the living room watching TV. Actually, I think she’s asleep.”