Follow Me(70)

Audrey shrugged him off and launched into a dramatic retelling of the sounds she’d heard on her sleep-tracking app. She’d always been a good storyteller, and this was no exception. My friends were hanging on every word, their faces a combination of amused and horrified.

“Holy shit,” Priya said when Audrey finished. “Holy shit.”

“How are you not more freaked out?” one of Priya’s friends demanded. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep again.”

Connor cleared his throat. “Let’s hear it.”

“Connor,” Priya scolded. “I’m sure Audrey doesn’t want to have to listen to that again.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Audrey said, already holding out her phone, the star-spangled interface of the app visible. She looked around the group, arching her groomed brows, before hitting the “play” button. “Prepare to freak out.”

Everyone leaned in as if pulled by a centrifugal force, even me. I thought back to that night in the sorority house, Nick trying to get into the room where Audrey was sleeping. She’d said she’d turned him away that night. Could he have come back?

“Totally creepy, right?” Audrey said after the recording ended, her voice artificially bright.

“Yeah, it’s creepy,” Connor agreed. “But not for the reason you think.”

She tilted her head, her hair cascading over her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not another voice,” Connor said, pointing to her phone. “That’s you.”

“That’s not me,” she protested. “Weren’t you listening? The voices are obviously different.”

“Hear me out. One of my brothers talks in his sleep, too, and he does that thing where he changes voices. It’s creepy if you’re not expecting it, but it’s just him.” He leaned over and patted Audrey on the hand. “I get why it weirded you out, though.”

His hand lingered over hers, and I glanced at him sharply. My stomach bottomed out when I recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same hungry look he’d had the night he tried to kiss her at the bar, the same look that Max wore and the same one I’d seen on Nick so many times.

Don’t be surprised, I chastised myself bitterly. It’s not like you didn’t know that Audrey takes everyone.

I concentrated on remaining calm and keeping a bland smile on my face, but when Audrey pointed a grateful smile at Connor, I heard myself snapping, “Well, I’ve heard Audrey talk in her sleep plenty of times, and that’s not her.”

“What?” Audrey said, turning to me with eyes wide. “You have? When?”

My cheeks burned as I realized I’d never told Audrey I heard her talk in her sleep. I’d always been embarrassed, feeling as though I’d overheard something that was private. But now I had admitted it in front of an audience, and everyone was looking at me like I was some sort of freak.

Once a freak, always a freak, Emily Snow giggled in my ear.

“You know,” I said suddenly, rising. “I have a lot of work to do. I should get going.”

I expected Audrey to stop me, but she just waved. “See you later, Kitty-Cat.”





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE





HIM


Sweat popped along my hairline when she started the recording, and I was certain that she would recognize my voice. I felt exposed, as if I’d been turned inside out and my organs were on display. I waited for her to turn to me with her mouth a perfect O of horror and point at my misshapen, bloody heart as it beat vulnerably before me. Oh my God, she would say, recoiling. That’s you.

But it never happened. She never recognized my voice. She had no idea that I was the one in the room with her that night. It was almost a shame because not knowing I was there meant not knowing what I did. And I was sure that if she knew what I did for her, that expression of horror would fade from her delicate face, and it would be replaced by one of gratitude. She would thank me profusely, and for the rest of our lives, she would know exactly how much I loved her.

That night, after I had deposited the box with the meticulously snipped flowers on her doorstep, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from peering through her windows. I hadn’t been cautious enough at first, and she’d chased me from the alley. I’d stood on the other side of the gate, heart pounding, listening to see whether she would explore the alley or return to her apartment. I should have gone then, but I was still buzzing with fury and wondered if she’d encountered the flowers. I reasoned that I couldn’t walk away now, not without knowing what she thought about them, and so, with my baseball cap pulled down low, I carefully, quietly snuck back to her window.

I sagged with disappointment to see her lounging quietly in her bed. She hadn’t seen the flowers. But still I kept watching, her heart-shaped face beckoning to me like a siren. Slowly the electricity in my veins fizzled and dissipated, leaving me calm, content.

And then I saw her shake a pill from an orange prescription bottle and wash it down with that glass of wine she’d been refilling all night. Instantly, I was on alert. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see the label on the bottle or the shape of the pill, but I knew Audrey took both Xanax and Ambien, neither of which should be mixed with alcohol. She’d just recklessly put herself in mortal danger, and she needed someone to watch over her, someone to stand sentry. I was her only option. I would be her savior. I had to be.