Antilove

Ventidue

CAPITOLO VENTIDUE

borders between causes

***

TWO HEARTBEATS. That's how long it takes until the voice at the other end speaks up.

Rose pulls over to the side, just a few turns away from her apartment complex.

"Rose? You there?"

Not prepared for who it is, Rose lets out a sigh. "What?"

"You should really come to work," Amber says. "I've had to cover for you these past few days. I don't know what's up but feel better soon."

"Nothing's up."

Though Amber comes with no intent of making Rose feel bad, she does. A sinking in her chest appears as she realizes who she wished the caller was.

"Why are you acting up? Is your...your..."

"Amber." Rose laughs but it's void of any humor. "It's totally okay to say Huntington's. You don't have to skirt around disease or anything I've heard it a dozen times it doesn't even mean anything to me anymore. Go on. Say it."

"Rose..."

"Just don't call again, okay? Especially not on private caller."

She hangs up before Amber can give any more explanation—Rose doesn't want it. Fatigued, she rests her head against the steering wheel and tries to imagine how it connects to the vehicle she's driving. As she's leaning on it, the rush of alcohol from the nights before flood her system.

Or maybe it's not the alcohol that makes her throw up into a plastic grocery bag. Rose wipes her mouth with a wet tissue—the one's she always keeps for car hookups—and notices that the bag came from the one night she spent with Lucien.

"Miss me now?" his voice slithers into her ears. Oh, how she missed the sound.

On the mornings where they'd wake up on the same bed, Rose would get the close up of his mouth, tongue flicking against lip and teeth—soft flesh and sharp bone. Then she's get the close up through a kiss, against her tongue and lips.

"Daydreaming about me?"

Rose's eyes lift up as does her whole body. She turns to the side to see him, pristine and perfect, sitting in the passenger seat.

"You're full of it," she says.

His dark hair is curling around his forehead and it falls in waves, freshly washed. Tan skin over flawless bone structure and the deep scent of perfume invades her senses. The jade in his eyes reflect the California sun and shines with fervor.

"I don't regret it. Your dad's deal was too good to be true," she says. "How could it have been? Miracles don't exist. You probably never existed."

"Josh would say otherwise. As well as a handful of other people." He smiles. "Don't try to convince yourself that what you did was the best for you."

"Shut up. You of all people don't know what's good for me."

"I was good for you."

"You're not real," she says, smiling. "You'll never be."

"Not if you keep on living the way you've been living these few weeks. Or has it been that long?"

"Are you...a mirror of my subconsciousness?"