Something brushes against my bare skin. Fingers? Lips? Wings? I can’t say, but the sensation is incredible. It’s like I’m accelerating through those eleven dimensions at once, and my body is both wave and particle. We’re colliding, making our own universe, something new and unnamed and full of every possibility. It’s so intense, this happiness—there is no escape velocity from this kind of feeling. And for once, I’m not looking for a way out.
I trace kisses from the hard calluses of her palms to the soft pads of her fingertips. She reaches up and cups my face in those small hands. They’re warm as the first sun in spring.
“Cameron, look at me,” she whispers.
I do. I see her. Really see her. And in that moment, I know she sees me.
She smiles, and in her smile is everything I could ever want. Her face looms closer, closing the impossible distance. Her lips are near mine.
And when it comes, her kiss is like something not so much felt as found.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Of What Happens to Gonzo When We Aren’t Looking
When I wake up, it’s afternoon. The sun’s trying to break through the crack in the curtains, so I get out of bed and let it in. The harsh white of it hurts my eyes, but only for a second. In fact, nothing really hurts on me right now. No tics. No muscle weakness or shortness of breath. I feel great. I feel whole.
“Dulcie?” I call. Already, I miss the feel of her skin against mine.
The sheets are a rumpled mess. I slept hard. On the pillow is one pink-tinged feather. It smells like rain and laughter and the unexpected. It smells like Dulcie. There’s no note on it this time. No secret code. I don’t need it. My jeans are on the floor; I slip the feather into my back pocket for safekeeping.
There’s a racket coming from the closet. Balder’s way pissed. “If I wanted to be ignored and abused, I could have stayed on the cul-de-sac or with those wretched TV people,” he says when I slide open the doors. I pick him up and put him on the table in the sun.
“Sorry, Balder.”
“Can I help it if you bring your lady friends back to the room? Were you successful?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
I grin. “No kiss-and-tell action.”
“Ah, a true gentleman,” he says, nodding sagely.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I say, filling up one of the complimentary glasses with water from the tap. It’s got a harsh taste, but it quenches my thirst.
“How?”
“I’ll buy you a camera. You can take pictures of us in front of landmarks to send to all your friends.”
This pleases Balder. “And where is our illustrious Gonzo? I trust you were able to rescue him?”
Gonzo. Holy crap. I totally forgot about him. I left him to the mercy of Parker Day and his team of we’ll-do-anything-for-ratings ass**les. There’s no telling what they did to him.
“Stay here!” I shout, grabbing my jacket and racing out the door.
I scour the beach and the Party House, searching for any sign of Gonzo. Most people are sleeping off whatever went down the night before. Things are just waking up. There’s a guy selling T-shirts from a booth on the beach. The shirts say BRING BACK THE DWARF! On the back is a picture of Gonzo’s terrified face.
“What size, bro?” the guy asks me when I grab one.
“When did you make these?”
“Last night, right after they filmed I Double Dog Dare You. It was outrageous, man. A dwarf and an electric chair.”
I’m running fast on the beach. An electric chair? Panic has completely overtaken my senses. I run till I can’t run another step. Then I go back to the room, trembling and spent.
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Balder asks the minute I walk in.
I slump down in one of the chairs. “I f**ked up, Balder. I forgot about Gonzo last night. I think something happened to him. Something bad.”
Someone’s banging on the door. “Open up! Police!”
Jenna promised me a head start.
“I said, open up!”
Balder nods gravely. I open the door.
“Dude, you are so busted!” Gonzo races in, beaming. “You look like you just dropped a load, man.”
I grab him in a full body hug. “Gonzo!”
“Aaahh!” He winces. “Watch the shoulder.”
“Oh my,” Balder says. “You’ve a warrior’s countenance now.”
I put Gonzo down and take a good look.
“Well. What do you think?” he asks, beaming. His clothes are torn and grungy and covered in some kind of dye. His hair is blue-black, and he’s sporting a new Mohawk.
