Page 12 of In His Skates

“Jesus, are you hurting for money, Leigh?” I mumble.

No, dumbass. This is a dream, and dreams don’t make sense.

I get into the car, and I’m assaulted by Leigh’s perfume. She was wearing it at the shoot yesterday, and I hate to admit it, but she smelled really nice—a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and peonies.

I open the garage door and start the car. “All right, let’s see how far this crazy-ass dream will go.”

7 LEIGH

Ifeel like roadkill when I wake up. I have no idea what time it is because the room is pitch-black. Maybe it’s the middle of the night. I should try to get back to sleep, but after I toss and turn for a few minutes, I realize it’s futile. My body is awake, so I’d better get out of bed. Besides, I have yoga this morning with Bobbi, which is something we try not to miss. With our constant travel and crazy schedule, it’s crucial to maintain healthy habits.

I sit up and toss my legs over the side of the bed. Jesus, even my legs seem heavier. So weird. It’s too dark, so I search for the light switch of my nightstand lamp. My fingers brush several objects that I can’t identify, and something that crinkles—wait, is that a condom wrapper?

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Am I not in my house? Is this not my bed?

I stretch my arm slowly, dreading what I’m going to find on the other side of the mattress. Mercifully, it’s empty. Which doesn’t mean I didn’t end up at a stranger’s house. Did I change my mind and went to Jenica’s party after all?

I jump out of bed and walk with my arms out in front of me. I trip over something; discarded clothes is my guess. I manage not to fall, and in a few more steps, I find a doorknob. When I open the door, bright light pours into the dark room.

Fuck. I’m definitely not home. Where the hell am I, and how did I get here?

“Hello?” I call, and holy shit, was that my voice?

I clear my throat and speak again. Goose bumps form on my arms. That’s not my voice.

I look down… and my heart stops beating for a second.

That’s not my body either.

“What the hell is going on?”

I run around the unfamiliar apartment, looking for a mirror. When I find one, I want to throw up. I’m looking at Keanu’s reflection, not mine.

“This is just a dream, Leigh. Just a dream.”

I wait to jerk awake in my own bed and body, but when seconds tick by and nothing happens, my heartbeat accelerates. Getting air into my lungs becomes increasingly difficult.

The sound of the front door lock unlatching makes me turn. I reach for a hockey stick that’s propped against the wall and get ready to use it as a bat.

My stomach bottoms out when I walk into the apartment.

“What the hell!” I blurt out.

The impostor’s eyes widen. “Leigh? Is that you?”

“Who are you?” I ask.

I—she—walks into the apartment and closes the door behind her.

I lift the hockey stick higher in what I hope is a menacing manner. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Put that stick down. It’s me, Keanu.”

My pulse beats loudly in my ears, and now I definitely can’t breathe. Black dots appear in my vision, and then my legs give out from under me. I collapse, and everything goes dark.

“Leigh. Wake up.” A voice that sounds like mine keeps repeating my name, but it’s muffled and distorted.