Page 36 of Switching Graves

“Will you still come home for Thanksgiving?” I have no idea what the rules are around her situation. Can she come and go as freely as she pleases, or is she stuck with that group until she’s ready to fully part ways? Even in the days leading up to our departures, she wouldn’t give me a straight answer.

“I’m not sure. I hope so. Hey, can you go outside or is there like . . . a curfew?” I smile at the teasing in her tone.

She’s never seen college or Ravenshurst as anything other than a punishment—a prison her parents tried like hell to force her into. If only she could see how amazing it is here without the weight of their expectations.

“I can probably go out. Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine. One sec.” I whip my covers off me and rush through my dorm, slipping into a pair of slippers and a hoodie on my way out. Poppy is silent as I quietly open and close my front door, opting for the stairs instead of risking anyone catching me from the elevator pinging.

“Don’t run too fast, Forrest. You might sprain an ankle before the big day,” Poppy teases as she listens to my labored breaths, and I flip off my phone.

“Shut the fuck up,” I huff out breathlessly.

Finally, I break through the front doors and sneak along the front of the building until I reach a bench that sits just outside of the light from the lamp posts.

“I’m here,” I practically gasp, a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion weighing heavy on my chest.

“Now, look up at the moon.”

I obey, immediately finding it in its crescent state. “It’s hardly there, but okay . . . ”

“No matter how far apart we are, we can always come outside and look at the same moon.”

“Did you just . . . try to quote ‘Dear John’ to me?”

Poppy’s laugh fills my ear, encouraging another bout of giggles to burst out of me. “Something like that.”

“I love you,” I finally say when the moment dies down. “I couldn’t take on this world with anyone else, Poppy. Please stay safe.”

“I am. Don’t go wandering off into the woods or blacking out drunk,” she replies in jest, but I can hear the truth behind her words.

Why she would think my situation is comparable to hers is beyond me.

“Hey, there’s something I need to tell you—” I begin to say as a loud thud sounds off in the background of Poppy’s end, and then she interrupts me.

“You should get some rest and I have an early day tomorrow. Text me whenever you have a free minute to let me know how your classes are. I want to know everything.”

“Oh . . . yeah, for sure. So you can relay it to your mom?” I stumble out sarcastically.

“No, asshole. Because I care. I’ll talk to you later. I love you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I end the call, my eyes immediately drifting back to the moon. I imagine Poppy doing the same thing and realize she’s kind of right. It somehow makes the distance between us seem a lot smaller.

Damn her, and her corny movie quotes.

There’s a rustle in the grass behind my bench that has me practically jumping out of my skin to turn and see what it is. A tall man looms a little too closely, his dark eyes peering down at me from beneath a black hood.

“Curfew is ten on weekdays,” his low, even-timbre voice practically growls.

Standing, I slowly back away from him to put some distance between us. “I-I was just getting some fresh air.”

He pushes his hood back, revealing a mess of black hair. I watch with wide eyes as he plucks an AirPods bud out of his left ear and shoves it into the front pocket of his hoodie. He seems too old to be a student, yet I can’t imagine he could be a professor. Not with the tattoos snaking down his legs and peeking out from beneath his pushed up sleeves.

Maybe he’s a janitor.

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