Chapter 39
Isadora
We're in the elevator, about to descend, when I finally muster enough courage to give him his present. I lean over, procuring it from its spot in the calf of my torn shoe, and hope for the best. He's been watching me and seems surprised when I come up with a pack of hotdogs. But then again, so would I, be surprised I mean. Who would carry around a pack of hotdogs in their shoe, especially when they just came out of the freezer? The row against my leg are practically thawed.
I hand it to him and he seems confused as he looks at them, probably either wondering what they are or why I've just given him hotdogs. He's been away from food for too long.
Smiling at him shyly, I muster a quiet "happy birthday, Linden." His eyes widen in realization and he smiles at me, beams really, and I feel my heart practically melt as he tears into the package, eagerly biting into one. I watch as his expression slowly changes to one of confusion as his chewing slows.
He looks at me questioningly, "why do people like these so much? They aren't that good, much too cold and squishy."
I laugh, relieved that he can even eat human food, and explain sarcastically, "well, gee, I wonder if that's the reason you're supposed to cook them first. Maybe add some condiments and a bun, just for good measure." I chuckle before adding "only weirdos eat them cold!"
He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the choker, its opened clasp dangling from between his fingers. Oh! I forgot I'd dropped it in the restaurant.
Swapping gifts, (even though the necklace was already mine) it kind of feels like Christmas. We smile at each other and I remember our kiss, his soft lips against mine, and I can feel myself blush. His ears are pinker than usual and I can only guess that he's thinking the same thing.
Refastening the choker (after retracting the blade), I'm comforted by the weight of it, the assurance that I always have a weapon on hand when I need it most. Imagine what would happen if I didn't have it with me tonight, just what would have happened? I cringe, thinking about it, and he seems to know how I'm feeling because he takes my hand, clasping it for the second time today and I squeeze it warmly as he presses his thumb to the scanner and we descend, more assured than ever.
At this point I just really want to go to sleep. But before that, I just really want to brush the metallic tang out if my mouth.
Lin says goodbye at my door, telling me he's going to tell Dr. Jones what happened. He wavers a moment before turning down the hall, seemingly pondering what to do next, and then quickly leans in, planting a soft kiss on my cheek and then turning away. Reaching for the key, I put my hand to my cheek, trying to savor the tingling sensation for as long as possible.
I get two hours of restless sleep before someone knocks on my door, waking me from the replaying death gurgles of the woman.
Slowly making my way across the wheat-field carpet (the gentle golden glow is very soothing) I rub my eyes before unlocking it. Lin takes in my mussed hair, baggy black FBI sweatshirt, and extra-large SpongeBob boxers with a slightly amused expression.
"What do you want?" I don't mean to snap, but I'm really not in the mood for being woken up without a reason.
"Well... Paul and I have been talking, and we think it must have been someone from the Complex that arranged the attack. Who else would know where you'd be? If what Henry said to you is true, you're probably going to have more than a few enemies."
My sleep-addled brain practically screams 'too many words!' as I try to remember who Paul is. Oh, right, Dr. Jones. "How... how do you know what Henry told me?"
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ESTÁS LEYENDO
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