Lake

 

 

I need Stryker’s advice.

I knock. Unlike everyone else’s door, his is still white. Was it Orfyn or Stryker who chose not to embellish it with Stryker’s hometown? Now that I think about it, Stryker has never mentioned where he’s from, or anything else about his life. I make a mental note to have that conversation.

Just when I’m about to leave, Stryker opens his door. His damp curls glisten, and a towel is wrapped around his toned waist. It takes longer than it should to drag my eyes back up to his face.

“Are you up for a walk?” I flick my eyes upward.

“It’s not a good time.”

“This is important.”

He hesitates and finally answers, “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

He shuts the door, allowing my blood pressure to return to normal. I mentally recite the Arrhenius equation to regain my composure. Losing control of my emotions is most likely what caused this issue.

Once we’re outside, Stryker veers left. “Let’s go to the creek.”

“What creek?”

“It’s past those trees.” He points to the rise beyond the weedy meadow that was once the athletic field. The two rusty goal posts resemble long-forgotten sentries.

“We were instructed not to leave campus.” I know I sound straight-laced, but I don’t need to compound my problems.

“This place is bigger than you realize. And stop looking like you’re about to divulge the date the earth will be destroyed. They’re probably watching us.”

I re-adjust my face, despite the fact Sophie’s world may have already ended. Wasn’t I going to ask him about something? It had to do with … It must not have been important.

“I know you instructed me not to trust anyone—including you—but I have a situation,” I say.

He stops and turns to me. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was only trying to get my point across. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I’m the one person you can trust.”

I choose not to believe that. I trust Deborah. And even though I don’t know him well, I consider Orfyn trustworthy. Same with Marty, Alex, and Jules. The only person I don’t entirely trust is Anna, but only because she’s never allowed me to get to know her. I don’t express my thoughts, though. Stryker’s ability to trust others isn’t going to be altered through a debate.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“It started two nights ago,” I say with a shaky voice.

His eyebrows furrow. “Why don’t you hold off until we get there?”

We walk in silence while I press my lips tight, containing the news that makes me quake. I run my index finger against the scar on my thumb, but its usual soothing comfort fails me.

We reach a strand of weeping willows lining a creek bank. Their branches touch, forming a sun-dappled canopy, and I easily spot a crayfish darting beneath a rock in the clear water. It’s the ideal place for a picnic. Nix that. Contemplating a picnic is most likely what created my dilemma.

Stryker lowers himself to the ground, and I join him. Sweet-smelling oxygen rushes in, replacing The Flem’s stale, recirculated air in my lungs.

“I almost forgot what it feels like to have some privacy,” I say.

“That’s why I like coming here.” He pulls off his shoes, rolls up his pants legs, and dangles his canoe-sized feet in the water.

I kick off my flip-flops, wiggle my purple-polished toes in the cool water, and relish in the current tickling my ankles. This would be the perfect place to meditate—if I could forget about my last two dream sessions.

“Tell me what’s going on, Lake.”

I watch a robin gobble up bright red berries from a flourishing bush, and hold my gaze on the peaceful scene as I ask, “Have you ever had a dream session that Bjorn wasn’t in?” I dare a glance at his face.

His surprised expression provides me with the answer. “I take it this isn’t a hypothetical question.”

“I wish. Two nights ago, when I appeared in Sophie’s lab, I assumed she finally acknowledged my hints and was outside taking a smoking break. I began working, expecting her any minute. But after she didn’t appear, I went to look for her.”

By now, my heart feels like I’m running a six-minute mile.

“I opened the door, and there was nothing on the other side,” I explain. “Literally nothing. Absolute blackness. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took refuge in our lab until I woke up. The same thing occurred last night.”

He looks at me in disbelief.

I take a deep breath. And then another.

“Do they know?” he asks.

“No. I reported to Deborah that we’ve been repeating tests to validate our results.” It wasn’t an outright lie. It’s what Sophie and I had planned to work on, except with her there.

“Good thinking. You don’t know what they’ll do to you if they think she’s not coming back.”

I hate when he says things like that.

“Any idea what caused it?” he asks.

I nod, then sketchily describe the subway scene, glossing over the kiss. And failing to mention whom I’d been kissing.

“I think you’re right,” Stryker says. “The timing was too close.”

I didn’t intend to dream about Orfyn. And because of it, I’ve somehow broken my link with my Mentor. This is another example of why I need to avoid Orfyn’s company.

“There’s the possibility Sophie went on vacation and forgot to tell me.” I force on a wobbly smile.

“Did she tell you she planned to go somewhere?”

In addition to losing Sophie, it seems that I’ve lost my ability to be funny, too. “I’m joking, Stryker.”

“I am astute enough to realize that, but it would be a game changer if you weren’t.”

“What are you implying?”

“Bjorn and I have been testing our limits, and we’ve confirmed he can’t put us into a location he’s never been. He also can’t create a dreamspace he’s not in. He’s tried to place me in various locations alone, but he always ends up there with me.”

“Sophie and I’ve never explored how our dreamspace works, since she’d first have to realize she only lives in my brain.” I pluck a piece of quartz from the water and examine it. I’ve been telling myself it doesn’t matter if she’s confused about our roles, but I didn’t consider how much of the experience I’ve been missing.

“Lake, you’re not getting it. You’re able to do something that I haven’t been able to achieve. At least, not yet.”

I snort, which is so attractive. “It’s not an achievement, believe me.”

And why is he making it seem like a contest? We’re all trying to accomplish different things. But I suppose one of us will be heralded as the first to help our Mentor achieve their life’s purpose. I’ll be terminated if I can’t find Sophie. A prick of unease pierces me. They would let me go home, even after all this time.

Wouldn’t they?

Stryker cuts through my thoughts. “Bjorn and I realized that since our Mentors create our dreamspaces, they’ll never get to experience anything new. For example, they can’t go to Paris if they’ve never been, even if we go there in the future. And they’ll never be able to meet anyone new. We’ve been concerned that this lack of stimulation could impact their mental health. But if Sophie is having her own experiences … What you’re doing is amazing.” He’s staring into my eyes with an intensity that catches me by surprise. “You’re amazing.”

My cheeks flush while my mind scrambles to catch up. He’s acting as if he likes me. Or am I assessing the situation completely wrong? He’s never treated me as more than a friend. After these last two horrible nights, I don’t dare trust my instincts. I settle on the premise that he was only being encouraging.

“I appreciate that,” I say. “But at this moment I don’t feel amazing. I have no purpose for being here if Sophie doesn’t reappear.”

He moves closer, then ever so gently pulls me into his arms, as if I’m a fragile piece of glass. “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this,” he says into my hair.

Once I get over the shock, I tentatively lean into his chest. He holds me tighter, and I breathe in his clean soap scent. When I wrap my arms around his neck, he pulls back his head so we’re cheek-to-cheek. A random thought occurs: the kisspeptin hormone isn’t elevating my heartbeat as it should. Then Stryker leans back and looks at me in that way where I know I’m about to be kissed. I want him to. I think.

He suddenly releases me. “We should go.” He rolls down his pants legs and rises to his feet.

“Is something wrong?” He may have noticed my limiting reagent.

“No.” His sharp tone says otherwise.

He’s regretting what almost happened, but he was the one who initiated it. I stand and step into my flip-flops, trying to act as if nothing about his behavior is odd, hoping we haven’t destroyed our friendship.

We head back to The Flem, and after not speaking for an awkwardly long time, Stryker grabs my hand and gives it a quick squeeze.

“Sorry about that back there,” he says. “I still have some things to deal with.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Is it okay if we don’t?”

I hope one day he trusts me enough to share whatever happened to him. I study Stryker out of the corner of my eye. He’s the type of guy girls dream of. Brilliant. Practical. Dependable. Not to mention gorgeous. I could like him, perhaps even love him one day. But the lack of adrenaline and cortisol in my blood stream while we hugged is something I need to consider.

Maybe Stryker isn’t the only one who has issues.

“I’ve been wondering if that dream hurt Sophie’s feelings,” Stryker says, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

Finding Sophie is the reason I sought him out in the first place. And if I can determine how to get her back, Stryker and I’ll have the plenty of time to figure out our relationship. I return my attention to what’s most important right now.

“Sophie wasn’t on the subway,” I say. “She shouldn’t have been aware I was with … someone else.” I need to obliterate that kiss from my thoughts.

“She could have some level of awareness beyond your dreamspace.”

Unease ripples through me. “Are you suggesting Sophie is aware of what I’m thinking?”

“It’s one theory. Have you ever attempted to communicate with her while you’re awake?” Stryker asks, adding to my discomfort.

“Our Mentors are not supposed to be conscious when we’re awake.”

“The Darwinians may have underestimated the impact of combining two minds.”