“Why do you say that?”
“I can tell from the way he looks at you.” Josh leans in, and his lips brush against my forehead, sending my center of gravity to my neck and making my legs weak. “He wants to be more than your friend.”
“So how does he look at me?” I ask.
Josh’s grip on my hips becomes tighter, hungrier, and in seconds almost every part of me is pressed up against him. Our world is beginning to fall away behind the veil of Elusion’s white light. The stalagmites, the icicles, the snow, the frozen firewall that we came here to find are fading away, and soon we will too.
“Like this,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. I clasp my hands tightly behind his back, unable to breathe, unable to think. It’s as though I’m being shaken to my very core. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.
But even with my eyes closed, I can tell the brightness is about to swallow us whole and take us back into the real world.
I pull him tighter, willing the light away. I’m not ready to leave.
He’s kissing me harder now, his strong arms wrapped so tightly around my waist he’s practically lifting me off the ground. All I can think about is how wonderful this feels and how I want to stay here, like this, with Josh. How I don’t want to go home.
But just like that, we’re gone.
ELEVEN
I WANT TO KISS JOSH AGAIN.
We’ve been back from Elusion for a half hour, but my heart is still rattling against my rib cage. Slipping my hands under the motion-sensor faucet, I splash some lukewarm water on my face, hoping that will snap me out of this dreamy, almost lovesick state.
It doesn’t help.
My brain still feels like it’s wrapped in cellophane as I blindly reach for the air-dryer button on the right-hand wall. After I press it, two converging streams of hot air blow out of a nozzle and onto my hands. I lean forward and put my face right in front of the current. Once all the moisture has been sucked away from my skin, the dryer turns off automatically, and I twist back to the sink so I can check myself out in the oval mirror that hangs above the olive-colored porcelain countertop.
My makeup is a bit smeared, so I pull some toilet paper off of the roll and blot underneath my eyes, where the damage is the worst. I adjust my scoop-neck tee so it’s centered on my chest, and pull up my jeans so they’re not riding so low on my hips. Now I look like I do every night, like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
Like I haven’t been climbing mountains and suffering through near-death experiences.
Like I wasn’t just kissed.
But was I, really? As I back up against the shower door, I wonder—and worry—if Elusion is powerful enough to create feelings that don’t actually exist in reality. After all, I know I don’t want to be anything more than friends with Patrick, but when I was trekking around the Universe Escape with him, I have to admit, I felt . . . something.
Touching my fingers to my lips, I glance at the bathroom door, where Josh is waiting on the other side. My equilibrium feels off as my mind struggles to process what my senses keep insisting was real. And even though I have way more important things to be concerned with than a kiss, that moment is replaying itself over and over again in my thoughts.
My bare feet pad against the radiant-heat tiled floor as I walk toward the door, stopping before the sensors catch my movement. Since we woke up, Josh and I haven’t spoken much except to comment on the status of our mobility post-Aftershock.
What do I say to him now? Do I even acknowledge what happened?
I take another step forward and push the door open.
Josh is sitting on the edge of my bed, his head dipped down as he stares at a wrinkled piece of paper. My room suddenly feels so small. All of my attention is focused on the broadness of his shoulders; the way his waffle knit shirt hugs his muscular arms; his square jaw; and the slight beard stubble on his cheeks. But when he turns to look at me, the only thing I can see are his deep-set golden-brown eyes, which are unmistakably red in the corners.
“Hey,” he murmurs, quickly sticking the paper in his pocket and mindlessly running his hand over his short, spiked hair. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “How are you?”
Instead of answering my question, he stands up and turns away from me. That says more than words ever could.
He regrets the kiss. He wishes he could take it back.
I take a step away from him as I brace myself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth—a mouth that I still remember tasting like spiced apples.
“Regan,” he begins, in a slightly wavering tone that only confirms my suspicions. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?”
I know this is a dumb, passive-aggressive response, but a part of me wants him to admit what I fear to be true. I can’t take the thought of another person not being honest with me.
There’s a long silence that pretty much drives a shard of glass into my nerves. When Josh finally turns back around, he lets out a frustrated sigh.
“It’s my fault that we’re back to square one,” he says.
“Huh?”
“The firewall.” Josh grits his teeth and punches an angry fist into the air. “It was right there, in that cavern. But because of me . . . we missed our chance.”
I take in a breath, somewhat relieved that he’s saying our kiss was a mistake for a reason that doesn’t involve his feelings for me, but I realize that he’s right. Our mission to scope out the firewall was temporarily derailed, and we won’t be able to reenter Elusion for another half hour.
Who knows what else will go wrong by then?
All of a sudden, I hear a male voice from downstairs call out, “Regan?”
Oh God. I think I just tempted fate.
“Regan? You upstairs?”
Josh’s head whips toward the bedroom door. “Is that—”
“Patrick,” I whisper.
When he turns his gaze back to me, Josh’s eyes look like they’re engulfed in flames. “How’d he get in the house?”
“He has a courtesy code on his passcard,” I reply, blood pumping through my veins like an express-line Traxx.
Josh rolls his eyes. “Great.”
“What if he knows about the QuTap?”
“I think he’d sound a lot more pissed, don’t you?”
I push past Josh, upset that he’s not helping matters with his snarky attitude. “Just stay here. I’ll get rid of him.”
I rush toward the bedroom door, almost colliding with the painted glass when it doesn’t slide open fast enough. I’m not really thinking now, just moving instinctively. I hurry down the hall, and when I reach the top of the steps, I call to Patrick before I even see him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, skipping down the stairs two at a time.