Free Twist by Karen Akins

time.
    â€œAre you okay?” He jumped up the second he saw me.
    â€œYes. I just got a little … upset … from the movie.” Forgetting for a moment that Wyck and I had been watching that dumb romantic comedy rather than Death Rumpus . “I mean, upset stomach … from the popcorn.”
    â€œBlinky Beans.”
    â€œExactly. Upset that I didn’t order popcorn instead.”
    His smile was equal parts relief and bewilderment as I pasted on a kajillion-watt smile.
    â€œYou could have had some of mine,” he said, then made a halfhearted gesture toward the theater. “Do you want to go catch the end?”
    â€œNah. I should probably head home.” A complete lie. I would head straight to Resthaven. Quigley might have some insight into what the blark was going on. But I couldn’t let him know that. “I’m feeling a little—I don’t know—off tonight.”
    â€œOf course.” He shrugged off his jacket, moving toward me. I skirted away until I realized he was only trying to wrap it around my shoulders.
    He doesn’t remember trying to kill me. He doesn’t remember trying to kill me. Over and over, I repeated it to myself like a protective mantra.
    The problem was, this Wyck might not remember, but there was no way I could ever forget.
    Pressing our way through the throng loitering outside the theater, Wyck, without a word, took my hand. It was the sort of thing that Finn often did, a nothing that felt natural. But as Wyck did it, all I could think was, am I squeezing hard enough? Too hard? Can he tell I’d rather be holding a rotten squid than his hand?
    He joined the queue for Publi-pods, and my mantra flew out the window. He might not remember what he’d done on a different timeline, but there was no way in the glittering bowels of Hades that I was going to be trapped in a Pod with him.
    â€œActually,” I said, “I’m in the mood to walk.” All the better to extract information from him. I needed to find out what I’d been doing for the last six months.
    â€œI thought you weren’t feeling well.”
    â€œThe fresh air will do me good.”
    â€œUmm sure.” He waved the next people in line ahead of us and followed me as I tore a path down the sidewalk.
    I shoved my hands in my pockets so he wouldn’t attempt another handhold, but we hadn’t made it ten paces before his arm was around my shoulder.
    Fake girlfriend.
    Okay.
    I could do this.
    Even if I had no idea what this was. Were we a serious couple? Just hanging out?
    â€œHmm.” I leaned my chin back and gazed at the stars. “It’s nights like this that make me stop and think about … us.”
    That should get him talking.
    But my wistful watching of the heavens seemed to have the opposite effect on Wyck. The silence between us stiffened. I didn’t think I’d said something that would make him suspicious, but …
    â€œBree,” he said quietly, “are you breaking up with me?”
    â€œWhat? No!” How had he gotten that from “Hmm”?
    â€œIt’s just that you’ve been acting so strangely all evening,” he said, “and…”
    â€œOh, no. Wyck, that’s not what I meant at all.”
    â€œAnd then with all the ICE stuff lately.”
    Oh, yes. Do keep talking.
    â€œWhat ICE stuff would that be?” I asked in what I hoped would come across as nonchalance, but Wyck stopped walking and snorted.
    â€œVery funny.”
    â€œUhh.” This conversation had not proceeded as planned. At all. I let out a halfhearted chuckle. “Ha. Gotcha.”
    â€œI know I’ve been busy with it. And I know I’m beating a dead pegamoo”—Wow. Did not need that imagery—“But this is exactly what I was worried about. The time factor taking me away from you. Dr. Lafferty said it’s nerves. She said that it’s understandable. Normal,