Speculos

Chapter Eight

I've never put much stock in the whole soul mate thing. I mean it sounds lovely. Having someone perfectly made to complement you in every way. Where you're weak they're strong and vice-versa. But it all just seems a bit far fetched.

At least that's what I thought...

And then I saw Ruby with her '74 Volkswagen hippie van, named Lola, and knew that soul-mates were a thing. Because this pair was absolutely undeniable.

There we are bumping down a small town Texas country back road. A wayward spring in the seat is poking me in a very uncomfortable way.

"Okay." Ruby pinches my knee. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, staring longingly out the window. I wish I had time travel powers. Or invisiblity. But no. I see dead people in mirrors. Hot annoying egotistical dead people.

They weren't kidding when they said life wasn't fair.

"Forget grey, you've been fifty shades of red since I got home. I haven't seen you act like this since you lost your top at the freshman pool party." Her eyes widen. "Did you commit an illegal act involving nudity without me?"

I roll my eyes.

"I thought we were close," she continues to whine.

"There was not any act of voluntary nudity." I cringe remembering. The fresh memory swirls in my mind, I lean back into the horrible plaid seat and close my eyes.

I throw myself to the floor and grab the worn blue mat to cover myself.

"Are you ever going to resurface?" The only thing louder than that deep voice is my own heart beating. Even in my stunned silence I know his accent is mesmerizing. It has a delectable British tinge to it, I could listen to it for days. You know. If I weren't naked and shivering on a bathroom floor clinging for dear life to a bath mat.

"Possibly not." I squeak, despite my mind telling me to shut the heck up.

The deep vibrato of the stranger's laugh brings me out of my embarrassed haze.

"Can you like leave?" I ask, my voice shaking. And then I realize that he's in my bathroom, in my mirror, invading my privacy. "Now." My voice finds a bit more confidence.

"All I saw was your face you know."

Right.

"Yeah, sure." I say still huddled on the bathroom floor.

"These mirrors are nothing if not virtuous," I imagine his wry grin but avoid the temptation of actually checking.

"I can prove it to you." He says nonchalantly. I am a little curious. I know basically nothing about this whole thing. At this point the Spark Notes version of being a mirror child would be immensely helpful.

I gather up the bath mat and try to cover myself, but it only covers my front. Barely. This is not gonna work. I army crawl along the tiled floor, which is absolutely not okay when you're naked and slightly damp, and make it to the shower.

I proceed to rip the decade old floral shower curtain off of the rod and wrap it around my self. I muster all the confidence I can, which isn't saying much, and march over to the mirror.

His amused grin and crinkled hazel eyes are there to greet me. His confidence grates my nerves.

I put one hand my hip, while the other clutches the shower curtain to my chest. "Good grief. White t-shirt, leather jacket, black jeans. You are so cliche. Is your car named Greased Lightning?"

He raises a brow.

Ugh. I would find some deceased fifties bad boy in my mirror.

"Says the girl modeling a shower curtain." His throaty laugh is sexy and it doesn't even phase me because I'm too annoyed.

"You just barged into my bathroom mirror unannounced and saw things that my mother hasn't seen in 15 years. I'm pretty sure that is considered a 'no-no' universally." I glare at this annoying human. At least I think he's human.

"I really didn't see anything." He draws an invisible cross over this ridiculously toned chest.

"Forgive me for not believing you." I drawl.

"I'll prove it."

"How?" I ask warily, still not completely believing that I'm having a conversation with my mirror.

To my horror he begins to strip down.

"Woah there buddy!" I turn around with a hand covering my eyes "You don't just strip down without asking someone first."

I thought they had manners and decency in the fifties!

"I was just going to show you-"

"I don't care what you were gonna show me! Keep your clothes on!"

"If you insist." I practically hear him smirking, my cheeks flame.

"Who are you?" I ask, not sure if it's safe to turn back towards the mirror or not.

When there's no reply I slowly turn around, and peek through my fingers.

He's gone.

"I never even asked what he was, or how he died."

"Or for his number!" Ruby yells, fanning herself. "This guy sounds hot. And English. It was all James Bond meets Pride and Prejudice in your mirror and you just stood there." She smacks me in the back of the head.

"He's all that and DEAD." I look at her unamused.

"You've got the hots for a dead greaser." Ruby giggles.

"I do not!"

"Then why are you blushing?" Ruby smirks, running over the curb as she turns into the station. "Oh, there's the sheriff!"

Sure enough, the sheriff is out there waiting for us as we pull in.

"I should cite you for reckless driving."

"Every day of my life probably." Ruby grins. "That curb had it coming anyways," she waves it off with a flick of her hand.

"Why's she blushing?" He nods his head towards me.

"I'm not blushing!"

"Did you tell your cheeks that?" He asks before heading into the building. I see Ruby smirking out of the corner of my eye. Ugh.

"How's that blanket coming?" I ask with an edge to my voice. Sheriff spins around, his face beet red. Ruby watches both of our faces like she's watching a ping pong match, waiting to see who cracks first.

"Let's go." He murmurs and Ruby sighs at having missed the punchline again. We walks past the secretary's desk. She winks at me and tells me to grab a cookie from the break room before I go. Like she even had to ask.