Page 2 of Twice as Twisted

Like it always does, the darkened window that overlooks the street calls to me, and I find myself standing at it, staring down, stroking Seeley’s head as he perches on the sill. As usual, nothing out of the ordinary catches my attention below. I sigh and pick up my bag.

I’m about to turn away from the window when Boots lets out a fearsome sound that’s halfway between a hiss and a shriek. He leaps from the sill and streaks across the room, darting under the bed. His silver-moon eyes gleam from the shadowy recesses. A prickle slowly climbs my spine like icy threads of barbed wire come to life. My heart gives one hot, hard thump before it slowly and dreadfully crystallizes in my chest. Only one person has ever elicited that reaction from my cat.

He’s here.

I shiver again, this time violently. For another minute, I watch the street, searching, scrutinizing. I can’t find a single car out of place.

Still, I know it. I can feel it too.

I can sense my nightmare lurking in the shadows, as if his ragged breathing still echoes through my room after the screams have ceased.

After three years of silence, he’s going to make contact, to end the delicate dance we’ve been doing for months.

I stand at the window staring out, waiting. When I still haven’t spotted him, and I’m going to be late for my date, I check Seeley’s food and water and then head downstairs. I don’t bother locking my door. There’s no reason to. If he wants to get in he will. A lock has never stopped a Dolce boy.

I don’t ask myself if I imagined it, if I’m going crazy. I stopped asking that years ago, when everyone else did it for me.

Why you acting all crazy? It’s not like we haven’t done it before.

Why are you protecting them? Have you lost your fucking mind?

We are sorry to inform you, we have no record of a student by that name…

I drive slowly all the way there, checking my rearview mirror every few seconds. At last, I spot a pair of headlights that keeps a few blocks back and never changes lanes, and I know that I have him in my snare. I park my Volvo outside the restaurant and hurry inside, knowing he can’t park and grab me that fast. I request a table by the windows, smiling spitefully to myself.

Schooling my expression into one of nervous excitement, I turn and survey the waiting area, searching for the familiar face of the gamer man. When I spot him, I sway my narrow hips seductively as I mince over to him on my kitten heels, giving a flirty wave of my fingers.

“Oh,” he says, drawing back in surprise. After a moment’s hesitation, he adds, “It’s you.”

I give him my most coquettish pout. “Of course it’s me.” I do a little twirl so that my little white skirt flares out around my bare thighs. “Have you forgotten me already?”

“No,” he says quickly, standing and wiping his hands on his chinos. “It’s great to meet you, Skyler. I—I just didn’t expect… Let’s go sit down.”

We head back to the table, ignoring the host’s judgmental look. She tries to hide it, but I’m good at reading people. I can guess what she thinks because I’m thinking it too.

We sit at the window, and when she’s gone, I smile across the table, spreading my napkin open my lap.

“You don’t look like I thought you would,” Geoff says at last, taking a nervous swallow of his water.

I laugh at that. “You met me online. We video chatted.”

“I know, but you were all…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely to my face.

I cast my gaze down as if I’m shy, but really, when I tuck my hair behind my ear and slant my face toward the window, I’m hoping he’s out there. That he’s watching me squirm, and he thinks it’s real. “I went to a lot of effort to look good for you when we chatted,” I say to Geoff. “I was afraid if I didn’t wear makeup, you’d think I wasn’t old enough for you.”

“Actually, I prefer the more natural look,” he says, glancing around nervously before adding, “But you do look very young.”

“I just wanted you to think I looked eighteen.”

I don’t giggle, but Skyler giggles, and this is Skyler’s night to shine. Her last night. The next time I do this, I’ll be Mackenzie or Makayla or Maddy.

“Age is just a number,” Geoff says. “What matters is maturity.”

“Do you really feel that way?”

“Of course,” he says. “Don’t you?”

“I definitely do,” I assure him, reaching across the table but hesitating, as if uncertainty is what holds me back, before I steel myself and force my fingertips to graze his soft knuckles. A white line circles the ring finger of his left hand where his wedding band has been all these years.

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