Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [96]
SMACK.
Something whacked me in the forehead, knocking me off balance, landing me on my butt, as an orange rolled past my feet. Feeling dizzy from the blow, I glanced up and saw a blurry Brent in double vision. I closed my eyes, rubbing them with my fists as I shook my head, trying to dislodge the visual abnormality, but when I opened them again they were both still there: one Brent inside the gazebo kneeling next to me and the other standing just over his left shoulder in the groves, mouthing angrily, “He isn’t me.”
In a mind-numbing, earth-tilting, stomach-heaving rush, everything I had forgotten came back. My fingers splayed over my temples and my head fell forward as I absorbed the fact that I had been murdered, Brent and I had been trapped on campus, and I had been brought back to life while the mist had been chasing Brent. My body went cold, black dots danced in front of my eyes, and my fingers tingled.
A strong arm went around my shoulders and I flinched. “Are you okay? What happened?”
He was an imposter— not Brent, but Thomas. He had killed me once already and here I was, alone in his embrace. I bit down hard on my lip hoping that would stop my hands from shaking. A sliver of wood impaled itself into my hand as I scooted away from Thomas, freeing myself. Teetering to my feet I leaned against the wooden railing of the gazebo, my eyes sliding toward where Brent had retreated into the trees.
Thomas came up behind me and placed his hands on my hips, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he whispered into my ear. It could have been an off-hand statement, but there was an undercurrent of suspicion in it that sprouted panic in my gut.
My toes curled hard, fighting to keep me standing. I wheeled toward him and leaned heavily against the wood behind me. It was beyond important that I didn’t let him know my memory had returned. I had to convince him I still believed he was Brent. More than just my life depended on it.
Stretching up on my toes I planted a very chaste kiss on his lips that tasted sickly of chlorine. My stomach rolled, wanting to heave as I threw my arms around him, holding him tight.
“I do want to study for Bio with you, but I forgot I have a study group. I better get back to my room so I can get my notes.”
“I’ll walk you back,” he said, grinning and taking my hand in his. The pressure of his palm stabbed the sliver deeper into my skin, drawing blood.
****
Brent was waiting for me in my room. The difference between Thomas masquerading in Brent’s body and Brent himself was undeniable. Thomas might be just as good looking when he was pretending to be Brent, but he was a poor, sloppy version of him. He lacked, and couldn’t fake, the part of Brent that truly made him so appealing, so . . . beautiful: his essence. Brent was more than handsome— he had a warmth and goodness in his soul that couldn’t be duplicated.
I closed the door and paused, holding tight to the doorknob as I leaned back against it, my feet shuffling beneath me. Brent lounged against the window, his thumbs tucked into his pant pockets. I closed my eyes and breathed in the comforting musky smell of him, his scent pushing me past my momentary shyness, I ran toward him to throw my arms around him but missed. Actually, I didn’t so much miss as fall through him, headfirst into my desk, my body quaking with the cold the whole way.
“Are you okay?” He laughed quietly, looking over his shoulder at the heap of me.
“Ow!” I said, rubbing my head where it had made contact with the corner of the desk. “I should have