Megan MIRANDA - The Perfect Stranger

Kyle had returned to the stool, and Kate grinned in his direction. “Well,” she said, “either way, the cute guy on the stool keeps looking over here, and I don’t think he’s looking for Davis Cobb.”

The waiter came with a plate of fries, and Kate was smiling, waiting for my response.

“Part two of the long story: My roommate is missing,” I said.

“What?” The fry in her hand froze a few inches over the plate.

“My roommate. That’s why the cute guy on the stool keeps looking over here. I reported her missing.”

“Oh my God,” she said, leaning closer, placing a hand over mine. “Are you okay? What happened?” Then her eyes moved too quickly, as if she were sliding pieces together, creating something bigger: two potential victims instead of one. Her mouth thinned into a flat line.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. She’s kind of flaky, so I didn’t worry for a couple days. Not until the whole thing with Davis Cobb.”

“So it could still just be nothing?”

I thought of the necklace I’d found, the things she’d left behind, the feeling I couldn’t shake, what I now knew about James Finley. But I also knew this was what I was trained in: seeing the danger everywhere. “It could,” I said. “It doesn’t seem to be related. So.”

Kate’s shoulders visibly relaxed. She raised her hand, ordering us another round, and pushed the fries toward me. “Here, you need these more than I do.”

I was grateful for the chance not to talk. I needed to box this away, enjoy the night out. I felt the buzz of the beer working its way through my body, easing my thoughts and my smile.

I listened to Kate tell me about her ex, all the shitty things he did, and I knew the words to say, the looks to give. I was glad to turn the speaking over to her. We paid the bill after ordering one more round, and I drank the last beer too fast, felt it go straight to my head when I stood, and considered asking Kate to drive me home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kyle stand at the same time, saw him pause. Wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was: If we’d met under different circumstances, as different people, would this have turned into something else by now?

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom on the way out,” I said.

Kate pulled me into a one-armed hug, smelling like hair spray and alcohol. “Drive safe,” she said. “And let’s do this again.”

I waited until she was out the door before I moved slowly toward the bathroom. I was three steps down the hall when I heard him.

“Hey,” he called, walking toward me. I waited for him halfway down the wood-paneled hall, both of us different people. His hand was on my elbow, spinning me around.

And when I turned, I was already leaning toward him, pulling his head down to mine. His mouth was cold from the beer, and he walked us into the corner, leaned his whole body into mine, breaking the perception of what I’d imagined Kyle would be. There was nothing contained and even-keeled about him right now. His hands were everywhere – on my bare skin even here, in a poorly lit hallway – and he didn’t pull back until the bathroom door squeaked open behind us.

The light from the open door cut across us, and he ducked his head against mine. “I gotta pay my tab,” he said, still leaning against me, my back to the wall. “Wait for me out front.”

I WAITED AT THEside of the front steps, near the main streetlight in the dark lot. By the time Kyle arrived, we’d both sobered considerably. The crisp night air did that to a person, or hindsight, or foresight. I could see the excuses already written across his face as he waited on the second step. I brushed my hand in the air between us.

“It’s okay,” I said.

He walked down the remaining steps, hands tucked into his pockets. “Let me drive you home, at least.”

This was cop Kyle talking. He could taste the alcohol on me, would know my limit from the flush to my cheeks. I didn’t want to argue the point.

“How will you get back?” I asked.

“It’s not far. I can walk. The air will do me some good.”

I handed him my keys when we reached my car. Then watched as he adjusted the driver’s seat, propped a knee up, fumbled for the headlights. I smiled when he jumped at the sound of the music from the speakers, louder than he was expecting, and I reached over to turn it down. I could feel him holding his breath as I leaned in, was close enough to consider turning toward him, ignoring his words. But then I leaned back, and Kyle put the car in gear, and the moment was gone.

“So,” he said, halfway to my house. “Who was the girl?”

“Kate Turner,” I said. “We work together. She thought I could use the night out.” I stretched, felt light-headed, liked the way the stars looked when I squinted. “She was right. You? Those your friends?”

He nodded. “Yeah, some.”

“Cops?”

He smiled again. “Some.”

THE HEADLIGHTS REFLECTED OFFthe sliding glass doors of my house in the dark. Kyle turned off the car, so the only noise was from the night: the crickets and the wind through the valley.

He stood in my driveway, turned in a small circle. “I guess I pictured more streetlights,” he said, grinning. He looked at the stars, pointed at a slightly brighter speck. “So, that’s north. .”

I started to laugh, wanted to reach for him. “Actually, I think that’s Venus.”

“Good thing I was in the Boy Scouts.” But he was looking at me, not the road, not the stars, and the air crackled around us.

“You don’t have to go,” I said.

He pressed his lips together. Didn’t raise his hands to me, didn’t come any closer.

“Unless you want to,” I said.

He shook his head, the corner of his lips tipping up. “I don’t.” But he still wouldn’t close the distance.

I thought of Emmy, and I went to him instead. “It’s not a crime,” I said to him.

I pulled him by the hand, led him up the porch steps, used the two separate keys to let us in while he leaned against the glass. There were a thousand chances to turn around, to stop this, and I paused, waiting for one of us to change our mind. I opened the door for him, waited for him to follow me inside, locked up behind us. Opted against the light, which might tip things too far into reality. Walked slowly down the hall and felt him behind me, dragging his fingers along the wall as he followed.

I woke before Kyle, who slept with the sheets kicked off, an arm thrown over his head. The light was streaming through the gap in my bedroom curtains, cutting a path across his chest, and I smiled, my fingers just an inch from his stomach, wondering whether I should wake him. The scar on his forehead looked rougher close up, and he had another on his ribs that I hadn’t seen the night before. I touched my fingers gently to it now, his chest rising and falling, thinking that Kyle himself was a story; something to uncover.

In the end, I decided to leave him be. His clothes were in my doorway. I tiptoed over them, left them where they were, hoping to grab a quick shower before he woke.

The light on the side table in the living room was on, and I froze. I hadn’t turned it on when we got home, I was sure.

But I’d just had the deadbolt installed, and it was currently locked. Surely it was Kyle. Kyle, up for a drink in the middle of the night or looking for the bathroom. I slept like the dead with someone beside me – the opposite of what logic would suggest.

I flicked off the living room light before heading to the shower.

BY THE TIME Igot out of the bathroom, the bed was empty, the sheets pulled up and smoothed over. I pulled on some yoga pants and a long top and padded out to the living room, towel-drying my hair. Kyle looked up from the kitchen table, a box of cereal open on the table, a half-empty bowl without milk in front of him.