Page 28 of ILY
He takes another whiff. “Smells like pickles.”
“You got it.”
He doesn’t look excited to drink it, taking a sip of his water instead.
“Look, I’ll show you how good it is. I’m a true artist.” I bring it to my lips and throw it back, swallowing roughly. I almost pass out, the whiskey and pickle juice burning my throat.
I gag and wheeze, and when Echo shoves the bottle of water at me, I gulp it down, trying not to die.
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna pass on that drink.”
I swipe at my eyes and glower at him. “Your loss. I saw heaven for a minute. It was very nice.”
“Ha,” Echo says and then leans back, handing me the second glass. “Go on, then. Visit hell this time around.”
I roll my eyes and gulp most of it down, my eyes watering at the taste. I’m feeling slightly tipsy, wondering if that pickle juice was so old that it started to ferment. But what do I know. I just know I’m sweating in a bodysuit on the porch with a hot guy whose name I don’t know.
“It’s not your fault, by the way,” he says after a long beat.
I blink. My fault? What’s he talking about?
“I can’t do brine. Ménière’s means I can’t have salt, like, at all. My vertigo’s kind of a bitch today, and pickle juice will make it worse.”
I blush. I didn’t know. Maybe I should have, but it wasn’t like I got deep into the medical reasons for my former clients’ hearing loss. I just showed up where they told me to and made sure no one was missing anything.
“Breathe,” he says, lightly touching my arm, and I realize my lungs are burning. I exhale rapidly, then suck in another breath. “I also don’t drink first thing in the morning.”
I stare at him and finish the glass before I hiccup and say, “What’s your name?”
Echo blinks at me. “You really wanna know?”
“Yes, I do. I think it’s only fair. You know mine. Where I live. My sad and pathetic dating life…what my dick looks like.”
He laughs again, and I can’t help but be pleased he thinks I’m funny. Or maybe that’s the pickle juice talking. “Name’s Thorne. With anE.”
I blink at him. “Thorne? Are you fucking with me?”
“No. That’s my name.”
“I mean, Leaf and Thorne. That’s pretty fucking funny, right?”
He cocks his head and then shrugs. “Yeah, guess so. Didn’t think about it, to be honest.”
I roll my eyes and pick the wedgie out of my ass again. “Okay, well, I need to change. I can’t stand this outfit. It fit me perfectly ten years ago. I’ve since then matured, and it’s a little too tight.”
His lips twitch. “Why do you still have it?”
I shrug and make pointed eye contact. “For days like today,Thorne.”
“Go on,” he says, his voice a little low. “I’ll wait here and protect your plants from the birds.”
“And from Michael, please and thank you. If you see him, shoot him in his smug little face.”
I rush upstairs, past all the boxes lining the hallway. My aunt had a bit of a hoarding problem. I need to rent a large dumpster and shovel the shit out of here. I’ve lived amongst it for far too long.
I think about the logistics of this as I change back into the outfit I was wearing when Echo—or, well, Thorne—appeared. And when I make my way back downstairs, I see him glancing around the yard, his hands on his hips, almost as if he’s searching for someone. Or something.
“I didn’t see Michael,” he says when he notices my appearance, and I sigh.
