Page 35 of Stranger Danger

I flip the light on inside our room.

It’s empty.

My eyes bounce from my desk to Ira’s, then land on his bed.

The childish comforter is made so perfectly that even my dad would be proud. He could probably “bounce a quarter off it.” His voice inside my head makes me smile.

I still think about the Monday night in October. Probably more than I should. When he apologized earlier for it…

It sits wrong with me.

I pull off my hoodie, dropping my bag on the floor, then kick it under my bed.

What am I supposed to do?

What am I supposed to say for that matter?

I don’t regret it? Can we do it again?

Yeah. Right. That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. He reached out to try and repair what we broke, and I want to dive headfirst back into breaking it. Why? Because I can’t find the time to get laid like a functional adult between rushing to class and taking Polaroids?

Excellent work, Beck. You’re doing a stellar job.

If the police pull me over, it might be easier to hand them the evidence and ask them to lock me away. At least that way, I won’t be a hazard to myself or my roommate. The Easter Menace can pick up where I left off. I’ll cheer him on from the sidelines.

Chapter 10

Ira

I turn the shower warmer, waiting for my blue hands to turn back to red. Going out in a sleeveless shirt while it’s like, negative two, is going to kill me. Someone’s going to find my body in the street, face down in the gutter, and wonder what the hell happened. If it were me, I’d probably kick it to see if it still moved.

It gets too hot, and I turn the damn thing off.

Where’s my Goldilocks?

I don’t want to be freezing my balls off. I don’t want to sear my skin off. I just want to be comfy. Maybe I can throw on four or five hoodies and steal Beckett’s comforter, too. That might do the trick.

Pulling open the curtain, I step out onto the towel on the floor, careful not to trip. My entire body feels like it’s been through a trash compactor. I don’t want to think about my soul.

I finish drying off and reach for my clothes…

My hand finds air, then the fluffy toilet seat cover. I look on top of the tank, behind the toilet, under my pile of "regular" clothes on the floor—

Nothing.

My head’s still back at the house with my pen pal. I never remembered to screw it back on.

Whatever.

Beckett probably went out to the V-Day party the one sorority’s hosting tonight. Our entire house is totally empty because of it.

I tie the towel around my waist and shuffle the thirty feet down the hall to my room. My wet feet slip and slide against the wood, and I nearly fall. Again. I grab the knob in time to avoid an uncomfortable, awkward call with 911.

How many times can my life flash before my eyes before I end up actually dead? That is the million-dollar question on tonight’s “Heartbreak Game!”

I shove open the door—

And freeze.