18 Thoughts (My So-Called Afterlife Book 3) (4 page)

Just as we were learning about a new Dark Jedi consumed by bitterness and scheming to corrupt Luke Skywalker to the Dark Side, a new urge overtook me.

I picked up Conner’s hand again. “Look, they say you can hear me. Now that you have this new roommate, there’s something I need to say real quick before he gets back. We came pretty close to dying, and in case that happens again anytime soon, I don’t want to wait to tell you this. It’s kinda a big something that I pictured involving flowers and candles and music, but it’s too late for that. So I’m just gonna spit out the words. I love you. I mean, I’ve always loved you, since the first day of kindergarten. But I’m also in love with you. A lot. I’m not entirely sure when my love turned all romantic or whatever, but I think it was in the sixth grade. Remember when Josh snapped my bra? And you told him that you really didn’t want to commit homicide at such a young age, so he better not touch me ever again? Yeah, I think that was the day. So anyway, you don’t have to say anything back, when you wake up. You can pretend like you never even heard me say this if you don’t feel the same way. But if you do feel the same way? Well, I’m ready to get married whenever you are.”

I paused, hoping the shock of my statement might cause him to wake up, since we were only seventeen, but nothing.

Before I could assure Conner I was only kidding, the door opened.

“You’re still here, huh?”

Oh great, Mr. I-Belong-In-An-Insane-Asylum is back. Time to go!
“Yeah, I was just leaving.”

Nate maneuvered his wheelchair to his bed, then climbed in while sporting a big grin on his face. He also sported new clothes. Instead of a hospital gown, he wore flannel pajama pants and a Tony Hawk T-shirt. I guessed now that he could see again, he wanted to wear something other than an oversize dress that tied in the back.

“You’re gorgeous.”

His comment made me stop, because hot boys didn’t usually tell me things like that. “Excuse me?”

“I got my sight back.” He pointed to the eyes that were covered with bandages just an hour ago. Eyes that were my favorite shade of blue, the color of the ocean. The ocean that had nearly claimed Conner’s life.

“I see.”

“Earlier, I wanted to kick the crazy girl out of my room, but now I desperately want her to stay.”

I smiled. “You think
I’m
the crazy one?”

He scoffed, which turned into a coughing fit that lasted a good thirty seconds. After taking a swig of water, he said, “Look, we’ve obviously both been through some traumatic experiences. From what I can gather, we’ve both hit our heads pretty hard. Let’s chalk up our first meeting to all the pain meds they have me on. Deal?”

I nervously tugged at Conner’s covers and decided to test his theory. “Deal.”

But only because you’re crazy hot.

“I prefer Mr. Crazy Hot from you.”

I gasped.
If you can hear this, repeat after me. I’m an idiot.

“That’s true, I am.”

I want coffee.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Oh my gosh! Crap, crap, crap!”

“So I take it I was only hearing your thoughts earlier? You didn’t really say all of that stuff out loud?”

I shook my head. “How is this happening?”

“Maybe it’s life imitating fiction. You’ve been reading aloud from that Star Wars novel every day, desperately wishing for some mysterious magic like the Force to come and heal Conner. And you got me instead.” A big, goofy, and hot grin appeared on his face.

“This isn’t the time for jokes!” He really was a weirdo if he thought this was funny.

“Whoa, chill.”

“I can’t chill. And how can you be so cool about this? We have to figure this out. Can you hear everyone’s thoughts?”

He lay in his bed. “Yours are the first I’ve eavesdropped on.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I tried to calm down.
Oh, who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m going to be cool about this.
“What do you think this means?”

“I’m the luckiest guy on Earth.” He grinned again. “But hey, did you really think I was gay earlier? The Zac Effron look overkill?”

Rolling my eyes, I told him, “I’m not sure if anything could ever be overkill when it comes to Zac Effron.”

He smirked at me. “See, that’s what I figured.”

I nodded, then looked down at Conner and wished I could see his eyes.

“So, what’s your story?” Nate gestured from me to Conner.

“Um, we were out sailing two months ago and—”

“No, I mean, how do you know each other?”

“Oh, we’ve been best friends”—and my secret crush—“since kindergarten.”

“Ah, I’m about to be a senior. You?”

“Same.” I was about to say more when I remembered he could hear every freakin’ thought in my brain. “I’ve gotta go. See ya around.”

He said something else, but with a grunt, I bolted from the room, hoping my thoughts were safe for now.

“People who don’t even know you can change
your life in a matter of seconds.”
—Nate’s Thoughts

made the one-mile trek from the hospital to the Bookman for my work shift. As I passed the park, I watched a couple enjoying a picnic, a group of boys tossing around a football, wheezing joggers stumbling around the nature trail, an old man tossing some birdseed to greedy sparrows at his feet… all everyday things. I wished I could exit this Crazy Train and join normal again.

Strolling through the door, I squinted against the fluorescent lights of the bookstore and greeted Nic with a nod. As my best friend since the fourth grade, she secured me this job the day I turned sixteen. Her parents owned the bookstore.

“Tough afternoon at the hospital?” she asked as I clocked in at the computer.

“That’s an understatement.” I took a sip of the large coffee I’d bought at the hospital before leaving, wishing for bed and a good book instead of work. But no matter what magical properties coffee possessed, it couldn’t grant my wishes.

“Something new develop with Conner?”

I slowly shook my head. “No, but I met this guy named Nate, Conner’s new roomie. And you’re not going to believe this, but he can read my thoughts.”

Saying the words aloud convinced me I must’ve gone mad. Surely, Nate must’ve tricked me somehow. I felt like puking at the thought of it being a cruel hoax and at the thought of it all being real.

Nicole ushered me over to the wooden bench in the reading nook, and I wished I could disappear as she leaned against the YA bookshelf to my right. “What? How can he read your thoughts? He’s, like, a legit mind reader?”

I loved how easily Nicole accepted this as fact; she even bounced from foot to foot in front of me like the idea excited her. A headache formed from my brain working overtime, and I tried to shut out the upbeat, jingly tune coming from the music kiosk machine in the back of the store. First, final exam week at school and now this. I wanted to Google Nate, but I never got his last name. Tomorrow I’d have to investigate, but how could I be sneaky about spying when he could read my thoughts?

“I don’t know, Nic. He said I’m the first person he’s ever ‘heard’ before. I have no idea what that means.”

Thank God business was slow tonight. Apart from a typical summer tourist browsing the shelves, the store remained empty aside from Nic and me. Her parents had the night off. I could only trust Nic with this new information that potentially labeled me certifiably insane.

“Maybe he’s lying to you.”

Trying to calm my nerves, I inhaled and exhaled deeply. The papery scent of new books waiting to be discovered had me wishing I could rewrite my own story. “Maybe, but he did read my mind perfectly. He could repeat everything I thought.”

“Maybe he’s lying about not reading other minds then.”

Taking a long sip of my coffee, I nudged my foot into hers. “Why would he do that?”

She shrugged as our sole customer approached the counter with a book on the history of West Michigan.

I looked at the clock. Only twenty minutes into my four-hour shift, and I already wished the night was over. With the little coffee I had left in hand, I decided to make good use of my time. I meandered over to the Religion and Spirituality section and perused the books there, hoping to conduct some research on mind reading. I hadn’t spent much time in this section of the store. Leeriness settled in the pit of my stomach. As a Catholic, Mom had always taught me “mystical” topics such as psychics and ghosts should be avoided. No lack of books about psychics and ghosts here, though, along with angels and a number of other spiritual topics like dealing with grief, whether or not dead people watched over us, listening to our intuition, and out-of-body experiences. The list went on and on.

But nothing quite matched what happened between Nate and me. There was a book on igniting our sixth sense that seemed like the closest thing to what I experienced, but I didn’t know if I wanted to devote an entire night flipping through it. Maybe I’d go home and watch the movie on Netflix instead. I’d never seen
The Sixth Sense,
but I heard the surprise ending was intense.

Just as I placed the book back on the shelf and turned around, Nic jumped out of nowhere and made me spill my coffee all over my Harry Potter shirt. One of the perks of the job, besides working with my best friend, was we could wear T-shirts to work, as long as they were book related.

“What did you do that for?” I shrieked.

She gave a maniacal laugh. “Because I wanted to scare you. Duh! Sorry about your shirt, though.”

I moved around her in search of some paper towels we kept hidden underneath the front counter. “The only reason you were able to scare me is because I was already looking at those freaky books.”

“Find any answers?”

“Nope. But I have a question for you. Why aren’t you questioning the state of my sanity with this new information?”

She glanced at the door as a new customer walked in, and before answering my question, she took the time to greet him. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to stress you out more than you already are.”

“So your backup plan is to support me no matter what, no matter how crazy I sound?”

Leaning against the counter, she scrutinized her manicure. “You’ve been crazy for years. You’re acting like it’s a new thing.”

I threw my coffee-stained paper towels at her. “Just keep on with the jokes. I should be having my mental breakdown any minute now, and then you can really have some fun.”

Nic threw the paper towels away and grimaced as she straightened the piles of miscellaneous junk underneath the counter. “Sorry. So, can this new, creepy guy hear your thoughts even when he’s not in the room? How far does this ESP trick extend?”

I took the hair tie off my wrist and tied my funky mess of red curls into a tight bun. “That’s a very good question. Oh, and by the way, did I mention creepy guy is also super hot?”

“Excuse me, but can you help me locate a book?” the customer I’d forgotten about asked.

Nic swung her head up from below the counter and effectively slapped her black ponytail in my face. “Sure thing, one second.” She turned to me and winked. “No, but it looks like you have an excuse to see Mr. Hottie again. If I were you, I’d want to know if he can hear me right now.”