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𝑹𝒖𝒃𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒙-𝒇𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆́.
“What?” Ollie asks, an eye cracking open.
“What?” I repeat, because did I just say that out loud?
“No,” Ollie replies. “But you know how you saw the highlight reel of my life when you first held my hand?”
I nod, pretty sure I’m not going to like where this is going.
“Well…” He hesitates. “I think, maybe, I can hear a sort of highlight reel of your thoughts when you touch me. Like just now I heard 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 and 𝒆𝒙-𝒇𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆́.”
“WHAT?” I practically scream, which freaks the cat out too, so much so that she springs up, nips at my hand, and zooms out of sight.
On instinct, I whip my hand from Ollie’s arm. I’ve grown used to what I like to call Goblin’s 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔, but when an animal seemingly attacks, you flinch. But I don’t just flinch. I lose my balance and pitch forward, knocking Ollie onto his back and me…𝒐𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒅…onto him. Like, we’re talking my stomach to his chest, my hand braced on either side of his head, and my lips smashed awkwardly and a little painfully against his.
𝑷𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔. 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓. 𝑶𝑴𝑮, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝑶𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔.ᐣ
Myriad thoughts war in my head, but I don’t move. Physically, I can. But mentally, I’m stuck in some sort of emotional time machine. At first I rationalize that this is all part of my experiment to prove to Ollie that it’s no longer dangerous to touch him. Of course that was before learning he could hear my thoughts.
𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒑.𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑹𝒖𝒃𝒚.ᐟ
But memories override logic. Suddenly, I’m no longer in my living room kissing the ghost of the man who once hurt me. Instead I’m that hopeful girl in front of a mailbox saying yes to her future and to a love that, for a time, felt like nothing short of magic.
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