Page 21 of Prime Time Romance

Last question. “And what’s the date? And the year, if you don’t mind?”

He holds a palm up to my forehead. “It’s the tenth of June, 2024. Are you feeling okay?”

I feel like I’m going to heave.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just a little tired. Maybe we should save that shake for another time.”

My eyes flick to Josh, who is staring right back at me. He doesn’t say a word, but I know exactly what he’s thinking.

What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks have we gotten ourselves into?

7

Josh

“So what should we do now?”

The parking lot out in front of Pop’s is empty, aside from the red Mini.

“I don’t know.” Brynn stares at the keys in her hand. “We could go back into town? Or maybe back to Sloan’s house? Or I guess I can call it my house now—which makes me feel much better about breaking and entering this morning.”

Up until now, I assumed that Brynn and I were still on the same page. The one where we both agreed that this whole situation was screwed up and that our objective was to get home, not to give in to some weirdo’s fucked-up fantasy.

“Wait, you’re saying you actually want to play along with this guy? Pretend that you’re some fictional character?”

She holds up her hands. “Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t see you coming up with any other brilliant suggestions.”

I don’t have any brilliant suggestions. I’m still piecing together everything that happened back in that diner. All I know is that whatever this place is, I don’t want to be stuck in it.

“What if we just leave?” It sounds so obvious now that I’ve said it. “You said we’re in Massachusetts, right? Maybe we can drive home? We have a car. A full tank of gas. Do you know the way out of here?”

Brynn thinks about the idea for a moment. “I guess we could try. Carson’s Cove is an island, but there is a bridge to the mainland at the other end of Main Street. We could go check it out and see if it’s still there.”

“Great. Give me the keys.” I move to swipe the keys from her hand, but she pulls them to her chest before I can grab them.

“What? No. It’s my car!”

“First of all, no, it’s not. And second of all, you literally hit me twenty minutes ago. I’m driving.”

She rolls her eyes but tosses me the keys with a disgruntled “Fine.”

I slide in, start the car, and confirm that we do in fact have a full tank of gas before pulling out of the parking lot.

We drive back through town. Brynn doesn’t say much, and I’m still a little shocked at the sight of this small town, which looks so stereotypically normal that it’s hard to believe it isn’t real.

There’s a flower shop with yellow buckets outside filled with bright bouquets of flowers. A beauty parlor with women inside getting their hair done. And then, at the edge of town, that redbrick bar, the one with the apartment on top, where I woke up this morning.

Once we pass the buildings, the smooth pavement gives way to packed gravel and potholes.

“Right there.” Brynn points to a bend up ahead, where the road disappears into a forest of Douglas firs. “That road should lead us to the bridge and take us off the island.”

I rev the Mini Cooper’s engine as if confirming that the car is up to the task.

We clip down the road at a solid eighty clicks, forest flying by on both sides until the ocean’s blue waters appear ahead.

The bridge.

Proof that whatever is happening isn’t quite as weird as we think.