Page 25 of The Invisible Roommate

“Yes,” Emory said.

“Made of?”

Emory’s eyes unconsciously flicked over to the nightstand. Nothing was proprietary or published yet. While he trusted Anderson, he still had to be careful with what he divulged. “I think we should get to know each other better before I tell you.” Belatedly, he realized how that sounded.

Something other than scientific intrigue clouded Anderson’s blue eyes. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

A thrill raced through Emory as Anderson stepped closer and pressed their lips together. Tension snapped like a twig underfoot. Emory was being kissed for the very first time on a disappearing island in front of an invisible mouse.

Emory should have been elated, but all he thought about were the onions in the dish he’d had for dinner. He was not expecting this. Any of this. Even if he’d hoped. So he pulled back a tad, pointed to the bathroom, and asked, “Do you mind if I, uh…”

“Tidy up?” Anderson finished for him.

Emory let out an awkward laugh before dipping into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he took in his reflection again. Often, in childhood, he’d looked into mirrors and wished, like a vampire, that he didn’t appear. It certainly would’ve made being left behind and overlooked easier—at least there’d have been a proven reason as to why.

But there was this tall, gorgeous doctor saying his work was incredible and wanting to kiss him, and he just about died from the exhilaration of sharing this. Coming of age came late, but it came just the same.

Once he’d gargled and reapplied deodorant, he took a breath and stepped back into the room.

The silent room.

The empty room.

Not even Marvel Jr. made a noise.

Because Marvel Jr. was gone.

So, too, was Anderson.

Emory’s chest was an unexpected avalanche, crumbling and freezing and demolishing everything in its path. Rushing past the desk where he’d left Anderson and Marvel Jr., he flung open the bedside drawer. His most recent notebook was missing.

Emory took off like a shot, descending the stairs two at a time, but Anderson’s golf cart was already gone.

Dr. Cuss was an appropriate name because Emory thought of a few choice cusswords he’d like to fling at the thief. He gripped his hair and rued the day he was born. He considered rushing into the main house to use Regina’s phone, but who was he going to call? The police? The island had a single sergeant. What would he even say? That their saintly doctor’s nephew stole his invisible mouse? They certainly wouldn’t take Emory’s side if they even believed him at all.

The only saving grace was that after the Marcus Marvel incident, he’d wised up and notated differently. Italian phrases. Backward numbers. Convoluted punctuation. He was a modern-day Da Vinci, and nobody should’ve been able to crack his code, but Anderson was a doctor; he was smart. Smart enough to charm and disarm him.

A cake cost Emory his degree, but a kiss could’ve cost him everything.

14

The next morning, Emory jolted out of bed when he heard his name being spoken downstairs. A booming voice wiggled through the vents after a loud, noxious pounding at the house’s front door.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Regina. I’m here lookin’ for Emory Griffin,” the masculine voice said.

“Sergeant Adye,” she said, “whatever is this about?”

Emory got down on his belly and pressed his ear to the floor.

“We got an anonymous tip that somebody’d been stealin’ from the health center. Dr. Cuss confirmed countless items missin’. Important items. They think Mr. Griffin stole them,” the sergeant said.

Breath balled up like a dirty sock of regret stuffed down Emory’s windpipe.

That bastard! Dr. Cuss gave those items to him.

This serum was going to help people! Escapees like abuse victims and war captives. It could be used as a therapeutic! A salve to win a future war! It could be used to see inside the circulatory system without machines and could aid in accuracy during invasive medical procedures.

But what was the use?