Chapter 2

My mother stares down at me from the ceiling with her eyebrow arched halfway up to her hairline. Is that even physically possible? I try to do the same, and the headache that pounds inside my skull nearly makes me pass out. Oh god, it hurts. Everything does. My head. My hips. My legs.

"You sure you don't want something to eat? I could cook you up something." Vee is standing at the edge of my table and I practically jump out of my skin, which only makes the pain worse. The idea of eating anything makes me want to throw up.

"I'm good," I say, swallowing hard. She cocks her head like she's about to ask more questions, so I frown down at my laptop screen. The battery is almost drained, but she doesn't know that. I type something. It might be gibberish. My vision doubles as I try to focus so I can read it anyway. When Vee walks away, I breathe an unsteady sigh of relief.

The chair across from me scrapes back. I didn't even hear someone approach. For a second, I think it's Vee, but it's not. It's a hipster lumberjack. My vision swims again. Is he my date? Clarissa said he was cute. Too cute for someone like me, though by the way it feels inside my skull, the aneurysm that's about to burst will probably kill me before he comes to that realization.

He smiles, showing one crooked tooth, and my head spins. For a second, the feeling is more like déjà vu, but it recedes quickly, overwhelmed by the burning nausea in my throat.

"Am I late?" he asks, pulling the toque from his head. It's the same colour green as his eyes. He holds out his hand to shake. "Jasper Jackson, at your service."

Whatever he's offering, I don't want it, unless it's a few ibuprofens and maybe a ride to the hospital.

"I'm sorry," I say, pushing up on wobbly legs. There's a good chance I won't make it to the door without collapsing, but I have to try. "I need to leave."

"Oh, cool." He rises too. "Where are we headed?"

We? Who said anything about us going together? We just met. I haven't even introduced myself, and if I try now, I'm probably going to throw up on his shoes.

"Leaving already?" Vee comes to our table as I try to put my laptop in my bag, and I can't help the way I shrink back from her. When Clarissa said she'd arranged for my mystery man to meet me at Wench, I was immediately uncomfortable. I haven't spoken to Vee since Mom died, much less stopped at her superhero-themed diner. When Mother was alive, Wenchseemed quirky. Since her death, the whole place feels like a gratuitous memorial that I want no part of. All I want right now is an ice pick to stab the living thing that has to be currently clawing its way outside my cheekbone.

I pitch forward and strong arms wrap around me, helping me slump back down to my chair.

"Can we get a couple of fresh iced teas?" Jasper's voice is surprisingly close. Oh. He's the one who caught me.

I push him away as I burp down some puke. "I'm okay."

Vee chuckles. "He always was stubborn. Runs in the family."

She's not allowed to talk about my mother. Not after everything. I point a finger in her direction as I try to work up the gumption to tell her so, but she's already walking away, long braid swinging down her back.

"I have to go home," I say, at the same time Jasper says, "Three more minutes."

"What?" Seriously, why are the lights so bright in here?

He leans toward me, face serious. It's a cute face. Stubble and one crooked tooth. If I saw him on a bus, I'd hope it was the kind of face I'd see regularly on my commute.

"Three more minutes," he says. "Can't have a repeat of yesterday. Looks like you're still feeling it. Three more minutes and it's safe to go. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

Excuse me? Lumber Jasper has no right to tell me what to do. Clarissa said he was a doctor or something, but we don't know each other. I struggle out of his hold, even though I'm shivering. My jacket. I should put on my jacket. But when I pull it from the chair, I can't even find the sleeve, so I stuff it into my bag along with the laptop.

"Morgan. Wait."

"Let me leave or I'll vomit all over your shirt." I stagger toward the door. Hopefully the cool air outside will settle me.

It doesn't.

The scuff of a shoe on the pavement means Jasper's followed me. "Morgan. At least let me call someone for you. You really don't look good. Is there someone who can come get you? Clarissa?"

Clarissa. She can pick me up. She should, actually. This is all her fault.

I fumble for my phone. I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. The streetlight overhead hurts my eyes, but I stumble on.

Oh, wait. Not the streetlight. It's not shining down at me, it's shining at me. Too high to be a car. The grill of a bus shines chrome fangs at me as it comes around the corner, moving too fast.

Here we go again, a voice says inside my head, but before I can ask what it means by "again," it gets swallowed up in the pain as I trip and?—

Something pulls me back. The bus blares its horn as it rumbles into the dark. I'm sprawled on my back. An immovable weight holds me down on the damp sidewalk and hot breath pants in my ear.

"It's okay. It's okay. Morgan, you're okay. You're alive." The tips of Jasper's fingers are rough as he brushes hair out of my eyes. The gesture is weirdly tender considering we've just met.

But despite his words and kind touch, adrenaline is coursing through me. Something is very wrong. The bus. The concrete. I try to breathe, and it's so painful, my vision fades in and out.

"No, no, no. Morgan. Hey." Jasper grabs hold of my shoulders and shakes. I flinch at the pain. So much pain. "Hey. Look at me. Look. You're okay. It's a panic attack. Look at me."

My gaze meets his. The streetlight shines around him like a halo. Is this heaven? Did the bus hit us both? Are we both dead? I'm the only one who should be dead. I'm the only one who?—

No. That's not right. Is it? Memories ping around in my brain. It feels like trying to focus on a picture being held too close to my face. I back up, retracing my steps. The bar. Jasper was late. I left. I walked outside. There was a bus. Pain. People.

I glance around. The street is empty.

"The bus," I say slowly, pushing up on my elbows.

"Yes." He helps me all the way up to sitting. "Yes, the bus. Do you remember what happened?"

"You... pulled me out of the way. You saved me. I think."

"Yes. Yes. And?" His voice rises excitedly. He probably wants thanks. Hard to give it, though, when my palms are scraped and there's dirt on my knees. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly until I feel calmer.

"Usually when one saves someone else's life," I say, straightening my glasses, "they do it out of compassion, not for the thanks. I'm sure I'd have managed to get out of the way on my own, but if you insist, thank you."

He blinks, confusion flickering over his face. A car slows down, and the driver rolls down the window as they pass.

"You two okay?"

I wave them off. "Fine, thanks. I tripped. No big deal."

Jasper slumps until he's sitting next to me on the curb. He puts his face in his hands, scrubbing at the skin before he pulls off his hat and tugs at his hair.

"Why do I remember and you don't?"

"Remember what?" While this date hasn't been great, I guess it's technically been memorable, what with the near vomit and even nearer near-death experience.

Tomorrow. I need you to remember me, okay?

My brain's still doing that magic eye optical illusion thing, and the question—more like a plea—sticks out like a hangnail I can't cut away. In my mind, Jasper leans over me, brown hair exposed. There are other people too. Someone calls an ambulance. There's blood on Jasper's shirt, but when I glance at him next to me, the flannel is clean.

What is this memory? When is it from? He said I looked familiar. Have we actually met before and I'm only remembering now?

Wait. When did he say I looked familiar? Our date lasted all of about thirty seconds before I had to run for the door.

He sighs as he pulls himself to his feet. Jasper doesn't look at me as he brushes his palms on his jeans.

"See you tomorrow, I guess," he says.

Suddenly, I need him to stay. I don't know why. Ten minutes I ago, I wanted to get away as fast as possible, and now as he turns his back to me, I'm scared. The things in my head don't match what I know to be true. The sequence of events. The bus. The lingering pain is more than can be explained by a scraped hand and a few bruises when Jasper pulled me to safety. I bend my leg as I sit up, afraid that they'll give out under the slightest pressure or that my pieces won't hold me together. But I'm fine.

"Jasper."

He glances over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Impossible. The words that come out of my mouth are impossible, but I can't stop them.

"Did I die yesterday?"

We stare at each other. The evening air is cool, and my breath swirls in a white puff in front of my face. Unexpectedly, Jasper drops to the sidewalk. Scrambles to me and puts his hand on my cheek again, in a way that is too familiar for people who just met on a blind date. He says, "What do you remember? Don't worry if it seems far-fetched. Tell me."

It's not just far-fetched. It's unthinkable. Beyond the laws of reality. Still, I sound out the words as I try to get the memories straight. "The bus. But you didn't stop me. Someone calling an ambulance. Pain." His hat on my face like he was trying to take care of me, a stranger who didn't want him. "I think I died after I walked out of our date. Except it was our date yesterday. Not the one today. I don't know how that works."

Panic flickers as my brain tries to make sense of something that doesn't fit in a three-dimensional puzzle. Squeezing the pieces together brings my headache back.

But Jasper sinks back onto his heels again and covers his face with his hat. He makes soft gasping sounds that might be sobs, but soon they deepen and round out until he's clearly laughing. His smile, when he lowers his hands, is electric. Cool relief on a face that is suddenly younger than it was a minute ago. He launches himself at me and pulls me into a hug, shaking as he holds me too close.

"Thank you," he says breathlessly, kissing the side of my head. I'm too shocked to push him away. "Thank you so much. This is the sixtieth time we've been on this date. We're stuck here, and I was starting to think you were never going to remember."