Page 13 of Antihero
Then she gasps aloud.
With effort, I release the pressure, loosening my grip in her hair. Her eyes open slightly, though her eyelids stay hooded, expression beckoning me on.
I release her, hands back to her waist, pressing her gently back to the wall so that both her feet come to the ground. “I, uh, got a little carried away there.”
Not a lie.
“Oh?” she asks with a soft giggle, then takes a deep breath. “Um.”
I squeeze her slightly, leaning so that my lips brush her cheek, but I don’t kiss her again. “Dinner tonight?”
Her eyes have regained their bright intelligence as she considers me. “You didn’t really cancel because you weretired.”
“No,” I admit, and before she can ask, I promise, “Maybe one day I’ll tell you why.”
Though… she might not like finding out.
***
We’re the only patrons who sit outside. The wide deck is dim but for the soft light switched on over our table, and the orange glow of the heat lamp that chases away just some of the chill. The restaurant is busy on the other side of the bay window, the distant hum of chatter filtering out from the brightly lit interior.
But I don’t like the noise, it makes it too hard to think, to notice things. Out here, it’s fresh, quiet, others feeling far away.
Paige is wearing something similar to the night we saw the movie, a brown skirt and opaque stockings. I find myself wondering if they go all the way up this time.
"You never wanted to leave? Go someplace…" I gesture loosely at the darkness beyond the edge of the deck, the distant and constant sound of the ocean competing with the hum from inside, "else?"
Paige shrugs lightly. I can smell her perfume, something mild and floral. "I don't know, I’ve been here pretty much as long as I can remember. I wouldn't know what to do in a place like Tregam."
My lips twitch. "I wasn't suggesting Tregam."
"No,” she smiles down at her soup, idly circling a piece of bread in it. “It’d be nice to go somewhere completely different, wouldn’t it? Some place with calm blue seas and white beaches. Where summers are long.”
“Sounds idyllic.” I smile. “And hard to imagine.”
With a laugh, Paige agrees, “It does. Tregam feels more real. I hear it’s turning nice there now, though.” She pops the bread in her mouth.
I sip my wine, or at least pretend to. I don't drink alcohol at the best of times. Which this most certainly isn’t, I keep reminding myself. Even though sitting here with her feels so… I don’t want to sayright, but normal. Nice. Like another life I could’ve had.
The heat lamp is bringing a flush to her cheeks, and Paige shrugs out of her heavy jacket, though she’s still plenty layered up, with a wool pink scarf and sweater underneath. “Not much of a drinker?” she asks, eyeing my still-full glass.
I shrug. “Not really. I guess this island is a good place not to be a drinker. Can’t imagine much of a White Rock nightlife.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Would I?”
Paige leans forward on the table, like she’s divulging a secret, and asks, “Have you heard about the old bomb shelter on the edge of the forest reserve, near the middle of the island?”
“Yeah, it was built during the war, right?”
“Right. Well, it was converted, a decade or so ago, into an underground nightclub. Totally illegally, of course.”
My lips twitch. “Of course.” Typical Tregam style. All you need is money in the right hands.
“We call it the Bunker. It only opens once a month, but when it does, people come for things they can’t get anyplace else. There’s even a ferry that goes between here and Tregam for that one night a month. Lots of big wigs come by then too. They leave first thing in the morning.”
Big wigs like the owner of the asylum, Nick, maybe? I wonder if she’s inadvertently telling me when she’ll be going after her next victim. “When is the next bunker night?” I ask.
