I slip into bed around one a.m. Ronno isn’t here, and I’m guessing that’s his norm. He’s the biggest player I’ve ever met.
I pull off my jeans, take off my tee, and flop back on my pillow, thinking about how stress can really screw with a person’s head. Mine started the moment I got on that plane.
My eyes stick to the blue-stained ceiling while my mind spins. I don’t want to rehash all the garbage I’ve been through these past few days, but I can’t help it. It’s unsettling to know your brain can make you believe the impossible.
A loud knock on the door jars me from my useless thoughts.
I jackknife upright. “Who is it?”
“River.”
My heart leaps. I want to see her and try to explain—yes, and grovel for my stupidity like she predicted—but there’s only so much humble pie a guy can eat in one day. It’s pretty damned embarrassing to admit you thought you had superpowers. River’s a good friend for not laughing in my face.
I get up and answer the door. River has the strap of her oversized bag across her chest, making her breasts look very…visible under her pink sweatshirt. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, showing off the length of her smooth neck. And I shouldn’t be paying attention to either because her big brown eyes are red from crying. “Hey, you okay?”
Her eyes fill with tears that overflow down her cheeks. “No. I’m not.”
She pushes her body into mine like a ship searching for safe harbor. The sobbing that follows is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It actually scares the hell out of me. I don’t even care that I’m in my boxers.
I wrap my arms around her and stroke the back of her head, running my fingers down the silky slope of her long ponytail. I want to say something, like: It’s okay. Don’t cry. But I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know how to give comfort to a problem I don’t understand.
“Whatever it is, you know I’m here for you. Always.”
River jerks from my grasp, dragging a fist across her cheek. “You’re kidding right now.”
I wasn’t. But her reaction spurs my next sentence. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I never should have gone there, especially because it wasn’t true, and you’re the last person I should lash out at.”
Her eyes run over my nearly naked body. She didn’t hear a word I said just now. “Huff, did you get bigger?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I could swear your…your muscles grew.”
Now she’s just playing. “Ha. Funny.”
“I’m not joking. I thought you were ripped before, but damn! Your abs!”
Feeling awkward, I grab my shirt from the foot of my bed and slide it on. “No. I’m exactly the same as before.”
She comes inside and shuts the door. “Like hell.”
I don’t want to tell her just yet that I spent part of the day with Lyle and found out I almost died in a pond filled with experimental MJP by-products, so I change the subject. “You were going to tell me why you’re upset.”
“Yeah. I overheard Keni talking to some of the other girls in the house. She’s telling everyone that you and I killed Blake. Poisoned him.”
Huh?
“She said she’s going to talk to Blake’s brother. We’ll go to prison.”
This can’t be happening. “We had nothing to do with it,” I say.
“I know, but-but why did you say all that stuff right after he died?” She lowers her voice. “You told me you killed him just by thinking it.”
“Which is ridiculous, of course. You can’t kill someone with your thoughts,” I scoff.
“I can’t, but you? You went into that water and turned into Mr. Olympia.” Her voice goes lower. “You ran so fast that night, I thought we were flying.”
“River, you can stop now. I know it was all in my head, and you were just playing along because I was in shock. You probably read it in one of your books; contradicting me would make my delusions worse. But I’m okay now. I know I’m the same Huff with the same body I’ve always had.”
River’s cute little face contorts. “Okay, please tell me you’re joking right now.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re telling me you don’t see,” she sweeps her hand over my body, “all that.”
“Nope.” And, honestly, I don’t get why she’s continuing to yank my chain. Does she think I’m still at risk for a massive meltdown?
“Huff, I know you. I totally get why you might be in denial of whatever’s happened, but I’m telling you—”
“No. I’m telling you I was thrown in a pool of Muscle Juice Potion—or whatever their factory flushes into that nasty green pond. It probably has some sort of weird psychotropic drugs and steroids or whatever. It was messing with my head, making me see things.”
“Well, I never touched that water, and I know what I saw,” she argues. “You went in, and when you came out, you didn’t crawl. You flew like a rocket.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a piece of red fabric, offering it to me.