Page 49 of A Thousand Second Chances

“Hey! If you’ve got a better idea, just say so.”

“I’ve got several.”

“Oh, yeah?” I take another sip of my latte, finishing it off. “Tell me one.”

A wicked grin that does terrible things to my insides curves over his angular features as he shoves his chair back to stand. He holds a hand out to me. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

I stare at his hand for a long moment. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I grab it and let him haul me to my feet. He drags me to the cafe’s exit, and we’re almost through the door when I notice Owen’s eyes fixed on our joined hands, an intense expression on his face I can’t parse. I shrug out of Chris’ grip, cheeks burning self-consciously, and instantly feel the loss of connection.

Chris glances at me, and even though he doesn’t say a word, shame curls through me at my reaction. Christ, it was just a hand grip. We weren’t even reallyholdinghands. Not that it matters if we were since no one here except maybe Owen cares, and, oh yeah, we’re in a damntime loopso they’ll forget about it anyway.

Still, all the logic and reason in the world doesn’t stop the instinctive anxiety that grips me at the thought of being judged and found wanting because of my sexuality. Of my dad and the rest of my family turning away from me. Of the disappointment I might have seen in my mom’s eyes had I told her I’d never live up to her dreams for my future.

“How do you want to handle Oshkoff?” Chris asks once we’re in the foyer. His voice sounds tighter than it had been, and he won’t quite meet my eyes. “We don’t have long before we’re supposed to be outside.”

I consider the question, trying to ignore the regret weighing on me for dampening the mood. “There’s an exit in the back that leads out into the garden. We can use that to slip around and avoid the main road until…well, until we can do whatever it is you’ve got in mind.”

Some of Chris’ former confidence returns as his golden eyes sparkle mischievously. “It’s a surprise. I think you could use a bit more spontaneity in your life, Percy Wentworth.”

“Right,” I say dryly. “Because you know how much Ilovesurprises.”

Chris grins. “I dunno, Perce. You just suggested we lie to an authority figure and break the rules to sneak away. Maybe this is the start of your rebellious phase.”

My cheeks redden. “Well, since I doubt either of us can be as convincing as Quinn, avoiding Oshkoff seems like the quickest way to ensure success. Besides, likeyoupointed out last loop, it’s not like any of this matters, so it’s not like we’ll be letting anyone down. None of this is real.”

Something in Chris’ expression dims at that, but his smile remains fixed in place. “Sure, Perce. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

I lead him out into the gardens past the handful of perennials still bristling with blossoms. The Royal Lilac’s yard is open to the building next door, and we tramp through the grass. Once we’re far enough away that Oshkoff shouldn’t spot us, we cut over to the main road. From there, we follow Lake Shore Drive until it enters downtown and turns into Main Street. Chris carves a path through the early morning crowd. It’s only as we draw close that I realize he’s headed straight for the docks.

“The ferry?That’syour grand idea?”

“Yep. This time mumbo jumbo happened to us on Mackinac Island, so I figure maybe if we getawayfrom the island, that’ll break the spell or curse or whatever.”

Huh. “That…actually makes a lot of sense.”

He laughs, guiding us toward a ticket booth. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m not some stupid jock.” His tone remains light, but there’s a hint of something harder underneath.

“Of course not,” I say. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

Surprise flashes across his features, and he fixes me with such an intense stare that I avert my eyes. I can still feel him watchingme as we grab tickets for the ferry and await the next crossing. Thankfully, the boats come every thirty minutes this time of year, so we don’t have long to wait.

We climb to the top deck like last time, nestling into seats near the back where we should be semi-protected from the wind. Few tourists are returning to the mainland this early in the day, so we have the upper level entirely to ourselves.

I gaze out across the lake, my thoughts drifting. As they so often have this trip, they turn to my mom. How often had she and my dad made this same crossing via ferry, the two of them laughing and snuggled close?

Every fiber of my being suddenly longs to grab Chris’ hand and press myself into his side while we have the benefit of privacy. But I gave up the right to that sort of physical intimacy a long time ago. I shove my hands underneath my thighs with the pretense of warming them so I can keep them in check.

“So, how’d you and Quinn meet?” I blurt when the silence becomes unbearable. “She seems…”

“Like the complete opposite of me?” Chris chuckles. He leans back in his seat, and my eyes fix on his torso as he stretches. “I think our friendship is more a testament to her persistence than anything else. I got a part-time job at this bookstore near campus last year, and Quinn came in one day looking for inspiration for a new sculpture. We got to talking about our favorite books, and when she dismissed horror as torture porn, I kinda went off on her.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. The wind catches his black bangs, making them flutter. “I guess she admired my passion or something. She decided that we were destined to be best friends, and once she sets her mind on something, it’s pretty much impossible to deter her.”

“I can imagine.” That much is obvious after only a couple erased days in her presence. “Do you like the work?”

“Eh. I mean, interacting with customers is only all right, but the bookstore itself is super cool. It’s nice spending so much time around books. I, uh, switched my major from Business to English, actually. Not that I have any idea what I’ll do with it.” He gives a self-deprecating laugh. “A degree in English isn’t exactly the gateway to a lucrative career, as my mom never gets tired of reminding me.”

I frown at how quick he is to dismiss himself. I spent enough time around his mother when we used to hang out at his place during high school to be pretty sure it’sherwords he’s parroting.

“So what?” I ask. “If it makes you happy, do it. You can always figure the rest out later.”