Page 19 of Heart Sick

I don’t bother arguing because the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can return to my room because being around this many people makes me miss the comfort of solitude.

Once the name tag is affixed firmly, the attention is thankfully diverted off me, all but the handsome stranger, who still watches me closely.

I lift my eyes and meet his, and I like that he doesn’t shy away. He doesn’t smile, however. The expression on his face is one I can’t quite place. If this were the “real world,” I would guess he’s interested, regardless of our age differences, but I don’t know what the rules are inside here.

So I simply stare back.

I make it a point to examine him and I can’t deny he is striking. The thing I find most appealing, though, is that I don’t think he realizes how attractive he is. He is arrogant, yes, but conceited, I don’t think that he is.

The way he holds himself, he commands the attention of the entire room just by walking into it. He is confident and has something about him that draws people in. I know I’m not the only one who seems to be just as intrigued by him.

Jade smiles, leaning forward so the collar of her silk shirt opens just enough to reveal the top of her breasts. “And what name have you chosen?”

She is talking to my stranger, but he doesn’t pay her any attention because he is still watching me. I should be concerned, but I’m not. I like that he seems intrigued because there is something about him which…comforts me.

For the briefest moment when we lock eyes, the pain of missing Misha shifts and I feel…warm. I almost forget that he’s gone because being in the stranger’s presence makes it feel like Misha is right here with me.

When Jade clears her throat, I bite my bottom lip to stop from grinning. The stranger follows the movement and I suddenly feel hot. All over.

The man next to the stranger nudges him in the ribs, but he still doesn’t break eye contact with me as he turns his name tag over to reveal his alias. When I see what it is, I almost stop breathing.

“Let’s welcome Bowie into our circle.”

The room does as Jade says while I remember to breathe.

This is a coincidence, but my stomach still drops because, what are the odds that this stranger would choose Bowie—mine and Misha’s favorite musician? I always felt like I could escape to a different place whenever his music was on.

My love for Bowie passed onto Misha, and I have such fond memories of us listening to his music in the car, at home while I was making us dinner, or just as background noise. David Bowie was always playing.

So, to see that the stranger has chosen that name has thrown me for a loop. It unsettles me.

He seems to read my apprehension and frowns. He appears troubled that he has upset me.

“Bowie, would you like to talk about why you’re here?” Jade coaxes, while he leans back in his chair, crossing his ankles.

An image of Misha crashes into me, and I grip the edge of my chair to stop myself from fainting. The image is stenciled over Bowie and it’s a perfect match because his mannerism is just how Misha’s was.

I often reminded Misha to sit upright because his posture was terrible. And he would tease me for my impeccable posture, which was thanks to wearing those stilettos when dancing. We teased one another every day. I miss that so much.

But looking at Bowie, I can’t deny that the similarities don’t just stop at the name.

They have the same tousled dirty blond hair. The same intense blue eyes. Both are blessed with a sharp jawline. Both are slim yet muscular and tall.

And now to witness Bowie behave the way Misha would, it’s too much.

“I lost something and I want it back,” are the words which stop me from crumpling into a mess.

Breathing through the impending hysteria, I focus on Bowie because his confession touches me deeply.

“And how does that make you feel?”

He tongues his cheek, deep in concentration. “Angry.”

I listen closely because I can relate.

“And why is that?” Each time Jade prompts him, he appears to grow madder.

“Because I never asked for this!” he snaps, the blue to his eyes swimming in black. “And I can’t change it.”

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