Glide

Chapter three

 I might have fallen into a parallel universe.

Somehow tripped sideways into some form of pop-up wormhole and been deposited in another dimension that looks just like the one I've lived in for the past twenty-three years. Except in this one, visits by hulky swimmers carrying breakfast are a weekly occurrence.

Yep. This is definitely the result of some blip in the cosmos. That is the only reasonable explanation for why David Davis just knocked on my front door at seven thirty in the morning.

I stare open-mouthed, no thoughts registering in my head except this one: thank God I have an early class today, so I've already gotten dressed. Otherwise, I would have to go into hiding from sheer embarrassment if I'd answered the door in my Disney pajamas.

I scan his body, my eyes zeroing in on the item he's holding, and as my sleep-deprived brain tries to conjure up an appropriate greeting, I stick my hands out between us, greedily grasping the air. "Is that for me?"

David chuckles, a low, deep sound that makes my insides clench, but all of that is overshadowed by pure joy as he hands me the to-go cup. I sniff it to ensure he isn't trying to poison me with black coffee, and then I take a deep swig, groaning deep in my throat.

"Uh, yeah, it is," David says, and when I look up, there's a smile playing on his lips, his head cocked, bemused. "Hi, by the way."

"Uh-huh." I wave at him, sucking down the coffee like it's water, absentmindedly wondering how he got my order right.

I'm not a morning person. If I could, I wouldn't leave my bed before nine a.m. I'd camp out in the darn thing. Coffee is the one thing that makes me feel human at this hour.

So, as the caffeine enters my bloodstream, a nagging sensation creeps into the back of my mind, and suddenly, I gasp, ripping the cup from my mouth like I burned myself on the perfect temperature beverage. I stick it out between us as if his taking it back would rewind the clock.

What am I doing?

This very nice man, who is still very much a stranger, just showed up at my door, and instead of greeting him or inviting him in, I grabbed the gift he was bearing and practically poured it straight down my throat like some degenerate.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I splutter, my face burning red. I thought I hit rock bottom last week when it was Jayden standing here, looking for Sophie, and my brain shot-circuited, and I didn't move for so long you would think I was frozen to the spot.

But no. This is worse. So much worse.

"It's all good, Jen. That drink was for you." He has the gall to sound amused, like my personal crisis is funny to him.

"It's not," I argue, stepping back and holding the door open. "Please come in."

He hesitates, rocking on his heels. "I actually don't have long."