She grabs my hand, laughing. “Charlie says get up, you idiot.” She helps me to my feet and grabs my shirt, pressing her face against my chest. “Oh my God, they’re all staring at us.”
I wrap my arms around her and begin to sway back and forth, which is probably not what she was expecting me to do. She looks up at me, my shirt still clenched in her fists. “Can we go now? Let’s go.”
I shake my head. “Silas says dance.”
Her eyebrows crinkle together. “You can’t be serious!”
There are several people stopped on the street now, some of them taking pictures of us. I sort of don’t blame them. I’d probably take pictures of an idiot who willingly sat in a mud puddle, too.
I unclench her fists from my shirt and make her hold my hands as I force her to dance to non-existent music. She’s stiff at first, but then she seems to let the laughter take over the embarrassment. We sway and dance down Bourbon Street, bumping into people as we go. The whole time, she’s giggling like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
After a few minutes, we come to a break in the crowd. I stop twirling her long enough to pull her to my chest and sway softly, back and forth. She’s looking up at me, shaking her head. “You’re crazy, Silas Nash,” she says.
I nod. “Good. That’s what you love about me.”
Her smile fades for a moment and the look she has in her eyes causes me to stop swaying. She places her palm over my heart and stares at the back of her hand. I already know she’s not feeling a heartbeat inside my chest. It’s more like a drumline in mid procession.
Her eyes meet mine again. She parts her lips and whispers, “Charlie says…kiss Charlie.”
I would have kissed her even if Charlie didn’t say. My hand wraps in her hair a single second before my lips meet hers. When her mouth parts for mine, it feels as though she punches a hole straight through my chest and makes a fist around my heart. It hurts, it doesn’t, it’s beautiful, it’s terrifying. I want it to last for eternity, but I’ll run out of breath if this kiss goes on for just one more minute. My arm wraps around her waist, and when I pull her closer, she moans quietly into my mouth. Jesus.
The only thing I have room for in this head of mine right now is the firm belief that fate absolutely exists. Fate…soul mates…time travel…you name it. It all exists. Because that’s what her kiss feels like. Existence.
We’re momentarily jolted when someone bumps into us. Our mouths seaparate, but it takes effort to free ourselves from whatever hold just took over. The music from all the open doors along the street comes back into focus. The lights, the people, the laughter. All the external things that ten seconds of her kiss just blocked out are rushing back. The sun is setting, and nighttime seems to transform this entire street from one world to another. I can’t think of anything I want more than to get her out of here. Neither of us seems to be able to move, though, and my arm feels like it weighs twenty pounds when I reach for her hand. She slides her fingers through mine and we begin walking in silence back toward the parking lot where my car is.
Neither of us speaks a word the entire walk back. Once we’re both inside my car, I wait a moment before cranking it. Things are too heavy. I don’t want to start driving until we get out whatever it is we need to say. Kisses like that can’t linger without acknowledgment.
“Now what?” she asks, staring out the window.
I watch her for a moment, but she doesn’t move. It’s as if she’s frozen. Suspended in time between the last kiss and our next one.
I buckle up and put the car in drive. Now what? I have no idea. I want to kiss her like that a million more times, but every single kiss would end just like that one did. With the fear that I won’t remember it tomorrow.
“We should go back home and get a decent night’s sleep,” I say. “We also need to make more notes in case…” I cut myself off.
She pulls on her seatbelt. “In case soul mates don’t exist…” she finishes.
During our drive to Silas’s house, I think about everything we’ve learned today. I think about my father and how he isn’t a good human. Part of me is scared that being a good person is inherent. I’ve read enough about how I used to be to know that I didn’t treat people very well. Silas included.
I can only hope that the person I turned out to be was the result of outside influences, and not because that’s who I’ll always be. A vindictive, cheating shell of a person.
I open the backpack and begin reading more notes while Silas drives. I come across something about files that Silas stole from his father, and how we suspect they might implicate my father. Why would Silas steal those from his father? If my father is guilty, which I believe he is, why would Silas want to hide that?
“Why do you think you stole those files from your father?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. The only thing I can come up with is that maybe I hid them because I felt bad for you. Maybe I didn’t want your father to go to prison for longer than he already was, because it would have broken your heart.”
That sounds like something Silas would do.
“Are they still in your room?” I ask him.
Silas nods. “I think so. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that I keep them near my bed.”
“When we get to your house tonight, I think you should give them to your father.”
Silas glances at me across the seats. “Are you sure about that?”