The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Seventy-Two - The Date

LUC

WAFFLE AWAKENED US when the noon sunlight hit our backs through the window. I'd rolled over to check my phone in case there was any emergency update, but my quiet prayers had been answered. All was quiet. 

Normally, I prepared breakfast and fed the cat, but I let Riley work it while I would pack for the camping trip. Downstairs, a pan in the kitchen started sizzling and bowls were being moved around. I stood up from the bed, not knowing what to feel.

This... I've never done this before for someone. 

The urge to plan an entire day from A to Z had been an impulse as I was holding Riley. I'd picked up her speeding heartbeat, her body's feedback to mine. Every touch moved her. She was so captivating. I wanted to give her something to be happy about, just us together. On occasion, we're likely to butt heads, but it was part of the game. More so when she was the one to get all hissy and flustered.

The issue—or if this could even be considered one—was that I was sorely inexperienced with dates.

I'd always chuck it off to focus on family, tell myself it was never the right time. After Lauren disappeared, I was too angry for distractions. I felt no inclination toward commitments that lasted longer than a night. 

And this thing I was planning was entirely different. Never had I felt like a rookie as much as now. What had possessed me? 

I grabbed the phone and willed the door shut. Riley liked food, as any living sucker on earth did. There was a higher-end place near Huntington. Years ago, we celebrated Heather's birthday there, and I knew the food to be up to standards. I dialed the number and asked the waiter on the phone to make an evening reservation for two under my name.

Now that's out of the way...

I left the room and walked to the end of the hall. The attic trap stood near the window wall. I had it open itself and jumped, gripping the ledge and hauling myself up.

The sleeping bags and the rest of the gear was backed under a pile of outdoors equipment. I tossed the folded chairs and the ping pong table out of the way. A small cloud of dust floated out. I found the bags, the tent, matches—as if we needed those—a fabric repair kit, two hiking backpacks, some rope, duct tape...

I pushed them all toward the attic trap. They landed in the hall with a hard thump. When I joined the material and closed the trap, I levitated it all near the stairs.

''Breakfast is almost ready!'' Riley yelled.

''I'll be down in a minute, just pack some snacks for the road!''

All that was missing was some clothes, blankets and toilet paper. I picked a hoodie off a closet hanger in my room when I felt something small rustle in its front pocket. It was a square wrapper. I retrieved it with a hand and was looking at a condom. A mini basket on the floor poked out from beneath my laundry chair. The stash where it came from.

I eyeballed it for a disturbingly long time, wondering if it was messed up to bring some. Did I expect today to end in the McSteamy? In frisky weather in a tent? To my knowledge, the closest Riley has ever been to that experience was assault with that assclown at that godforsaken party. The one where I flipped my shit.

''What's taking so long?'' she piped up from the kitchen.

Fuck it. I grabbed a handful of them and shoved them in one of the backpack's pouches. It didn't hurt to be prepared just in case.

I harnessed the sleeping bags to the backpacks and slung them over my shoulders. Downstairs, the air smelled of eggs and bacon. Hunger smacked me in the midsection as soon as I got a whiff. I'd never been good at lasting a long time without food.