Page 57 of Seven Days in June

“Why don’t you want to?”

“It’s a mess in there,” she said hollowly.

He wondered when the last time she’d fallen apart in front of someone was.

“But that’s the good stuff,” he insisted. “It’s you.”

“I can’t afford to fall apart,” she said.

Eva met his eyes then. And Shane saw that she looked starved. Something potent and protective hit him. He wanted to grab her and run. Which, historically speaking, probably wouldn’t end well.

“Shane,” she said quietly. “Why haven’t you said my name?”

Shane flinched, caught off guard. It was disorienting, being caught between what he felt then versus his feelings now. If Shane spoke her new name, then she stopped being a memory. She became tangible. And he’d have to confront what was real. Which was that Eva Mercy was unspooling him, as slowly and surely as if she’d tugged a thread.

Shane was here to come clean and go. Falling for her wasn’t the plan.

“I can’t say your new name.”

“Why?”

Hesitantly, he said, “I can’t afford to fall apart, either.”

Shane heard Eva’s tiny huff of breath and saw her lips part, but he never got to hear her answer—because there was the pink-ponytailed chick standing in front of them. Blocking the sun. Waving maniacally, as if she were a great distance away.

Jolted out of a big moment, they peered up at her with confused (Eva) and annoyed (Shane) expressions.

“Hiii!” she shouted. “I’m Charlii. With twoi’s.”

“We all have two eyes,” Shane muttered.

“I saw that you guys had, like, an intense vibe? I thought you might need to relax, so I’m inviting you in! But hurry, we close at 3:00 p.m.”

“In where?” asked Eva.

“The Dream House. I’m the door girl.” Pink Ponytail gestured at a nondescript town house across the street. It had a black door with a sign readingTHE DREAM HOUSEin white block letters. A Midtown-corporate woman in Ann Taylor separates stumbled out, yawning contentedly.

“Ohhh,” breathed Eva, facing Shane. “I read about this on Refinery29. It’s an art installation that’s like preschool naptime, but for adults. You drop by, meditate, sleep, chill. And then go back to work, refreshed.”

Shane was skeptical. Twenty years ago, he would’ve robbed every sleeping idiot in that house.

“Is napping around strangers safe?” asked Eva, damn near reading his mind.

“We havethoroughrules,” insisted Pink Ponytail. “So, Dream House is a sound- and light-immersive experience. The rooms are dark except for soft lilac lights, and there’s incense and hypnotic music—but you’ll hear different tones whether you’re standing, sitting, or lying down,” she pitched. “Out here it’s chaos, global warming, Mike Pence. In there, it’s peace, art, freedom. It’s like a safe acid trip!”

A drugless high? Eva looked at Shane. Shane looked at Eva.

Ten minutes later, Shane and Eva were enveloped in a womb-like room, floating away.

By then, Charlii-with-Two-Eyes Sanchez had already uploaded her iPhone X pic of Shane and Eva onto theCursedFacebook group—with a detailed description of the sighting. As backup events coordinator of the quite niche Latinx Bruja Association at Queens College, she was a massive fan of Eva’s girl-power witch—but as a lifelong New Yorker, she was far too cool to let Eva know.

Chapter 14

Girling About

“SPARROW ALWAYS DOES THIS,” WAILED PARSLEY KATZEN, WHO WAS TENminutes into a diatribe. “She’s so thirsty. Such a try-hard.”

Audre was in no mood for this drama. All Parsley ever talked about was Sparrow Shapiro. AndRiverdale. And now Audre was stuck sitting next to her for the next hour. As if detention could get much worse.

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