Run (The Tesla Effect #2)

by Julie Drew

  Sam looked down at his watch just as the brilliant flash of lasers exploded on every monitor, and when he looked up he saw Tesla on the screen, a little disheveled in his old clothes, her eyes squeezed shut, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. He was out of his chair in an instant, but Finn was already racing through the door ahead of him. With effort Sam caught up, just as Finn threw the door to the time travel chamber open and they rushed inside together.

  “Finn!” Tesla cried, flinging herself into his arms, her own arms wrapping tightly around his neck, her trembling visible even to Sam, from several feet away. “What’s happened, what’s wrong?” she cried breathlessly, shaking as he held her tight, her mouth by his ear.

  “I’m fine, nothing—I’m okay,” he whispered fiercely, eyes closed, holding her pressed up against his body, inhaling the scent of her, the warmth, his tension loosening, that too-tight feeling in his chest unwinding like a sigh.

  Tesla pulled back, just enough so that they could see each other, and words poured out of her mouth in a jumble. “I thought you were hurt—I knew you were hurt, I felt it! What’s happened, you have to tell me—”

  “Tesla, what have you done?” Finn asked, stunned by the dark hair, the deep brown eyes that reflected the light back at him, revealing nothing, turning her momentarily into the stranger she appeared to be.

  Tesla’s hands dropped down to her sides and she took one step back. “Nothing—what do you mean?” Then her hand moved upward on its own, touching her hair. “Oh—it’s a disguise. But Finn, you’re really okay? I don’t understand…”

  “I know you don’t,” he said, reaching up and grabbing her hand, pulling it down and keeping it in his own. “We need to talk. There are things I need to tell you.”

  Tesla looked over and saw Sam for the first time. “Hi, Sam,” she said, flushing pink as she remembered being in his arms less than an hour ago—they had danced, pressed up against each other’s bodies, kissed. She had flirted outrageously, suggestively, dared him to do something dangerous with her. She told herself it was different for him, he had been a kid, it had been eight years ago, but one startled look into his eyes told her he remembered every bit of it as clearly as if he, too, had just been there.

  “Hi,” Sam said. The last thing he wanted was to leave Finn alone with Tesla, but he knew he had to—he couldn’t prevent it, so they might as well get it over with and he’d just see where things stood afterward.

  “Why don’t we get out of here,” he said, resigned. “You two want to talk, and I need to get home. I’ve somehow managed to forget I have finals coming up.” It was forced and awkward—and unlikely that anybody believed it—but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

  They made their silent way up the stairs with all that remained unsaid weighting every step. Once they were outside, the darkness afforded them each some privacy, and Sam said good night and turned to go. Before he’d gone more than a few steps, however, he turned back and saw that neither Finn nor Tesla had moved. They stood close to each other without touching, and Tesla shivered in Sam’s flannel shirt.

  It was the last part that gave Sam pause. He remembered the feel of her lips on his, the way she’d teased him about how many times they’d kissed, though he hadn’t understood it at the time, the feel of her body underneath the soft flannel shirt. His shirt, he thought as he watched the wind lift and tangle her long dark hair. His.

  “Tesla, thanks for the dance tonight. It was memorable,” he said softly, all three of them instantly aware that he had in some way taken off the gloves, and that one of them—maybe all of them—stood to get hurt.

  “I’d take some ibuprofen, if I were you. And drink a lot of water or you’ll be hungover.”

  “Entangled?” Tesla asked, her dark brows drawn together in a frown. “I don’t understand.” She sat on the edge of Bizzy’s perfectly made bed, Bizzy and Finn standing between her and the door, as if she might bolt.

  “I know, it’s weird,” said Bizzy, and Finn snorted softly at the understatement.

  “Well, it is,” she said, flicking her eyes briefly in his direction.

  “Yeah, Biz, no shit. It’s weird, it’s almost impossible to believe, and even you can’t really explain it. That’s why I brought her here. Let’s not try to imagine me handing her this story on my own and expecting it to go well.”

  “Hmm. Good point,” Bizzy said, tugging unconsciously on her lip ring. “I suppose I do have more intellectual credibility.” She did not stop to consider the juxtaposition of her statement and the Sponge Bob Square Pants pajamas she wore, but then neither did Finn or Tesla.

  “Yeah, but do you have enough?” Finn pressed. “She doesn’t get it.”

  “Hello. Sitting right here,” Tesla said, feeling oddly out of step with everything around her. But she had felt this way with Sam tonight, too, before she’d been hit by—Finn’s feelings, apparently, in some tangled-up, shared emotional and physical state that he and Bizzy were trying to tell her was the new normal. Did this entanglement explain all of that? Could it explain why she didn’t feel like herself, why she felt inundated with anger, and defiance, and—let’s face it, an at-times overwhelming desire to act badly, to get into some kind of trouble, to do exactly what she wanted, everybody else and the consequences be damned?

  Danger Girl, indeed, she thought, without much humor.

  When Sam had walked away, leaving her standing in the dark, shivering in his clothes, she’d felt a kind of shock settling over her, a weakness in her limbs, a buzzing in her mind, as if there was a much greater distance between her and everyone else—including Finn, who stood right beside her—than the reality around her suggested. She had been shaken to her core back at the bar with Sam, standing out in the parking lot trying to grapple with the overwhelming sense of grief and rage and loneliness that washed over her, feelings that she somehow knew were about Finn—were, in some way, part of Finn, and she could think of nothing, do nothing, until Sam brought her back to the lab and sent her back to the present to find him.

  Now that she was here, with Finn, who seemed wired and restless but otherwise fine, she felt the tension seep from her body as the tightness in her chest finally eased, leaving exhaustion and disassociation in its wake.

  “Yeah, sorry Tes,” Finn said. Bizzy came over and sat on the bed beside her, Finn crouched down in front of her. “You understand that we are…connected, though, right? In some way that we weren’t before. In a way that other people aren’t.”

  “I-I guess,” Tesla said. “I don’t really know what that means, though.”

  “We don’t either,” Bizzy assured her. “This is all brand new. Brand new and totally awesome.”

  “Bizzy,” Finn warned.

  “Oh come on, Finn. Seriously.” Bizzy was back up on her feet, a far cry from the fumbling, blinking, still-half-asleep person they’d woken up just a little while ago. She paced around the room, using her hands for emphasis as she spoke, fast and excited. “Time travel—it’s happening. You’ve done it, you’re doing it! And already it’s having effects, it’s changing things—you guys are hard evidence of some pretty abstract, theoretical stuff, and it’s mind-boggling. Nobody knows what’s going to happen next—it could be anything!”

  “Yes. We could mutate into something truly unheard of, become even more of a freak show than we already are,” Tesla said dryly. “How awesome would that be?”

  “Maybe we’ll really become entangled and I’ll wake up in the morning with, like, your arm sprouting out of my side,” Finn said, looking at Tesla with a raised eyebrow, as if the possibility had potential.

  “Okay, gross—let’s not do a remake of The Fly. Better: maybe tomorrow morning I’ll have a ‘fro with gold highlights,” she said, grinning.

  “Your hair should only be red,” Finn said sternly. “I did not approve this disguise, and as your entangled-other I believe I have veto power. It’s in the fine print.”

  “Dream on,” Tesla shot back. “I lo
ve this disguise. It’s very freeing, you know. I was having a blast tonight until your mayday came over the wire.”

  It was out before she could stop it, and while it didn’t sound like much to Bizzy, just more of their usual, annoying banter, Finn and Tesla were immediately reminded that Sam had revealed—deliberately—that they’d been drinking, and dancing. And that it had been memorable.

  “I can imagine,” Finn said, and Tesla looked at him quickly, blushing.

  “All I mean is that anything…unique about my looks is covered up, so no one will notice me.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s working quite as well as you think it is,” Finn said, his voice once more taking on that softly teasing tone that had wavered for just a moment.

  “Really?” Bizzy asked, thoroughly disgusted. “You’re flirting now? Talking about her hair and how hot she is instead of the un-freaking-believable scientific breakthrough you’re both a part of??”

  Finn shrugged, Tesla laughed, and Bizzy gave up. “Fine. It should have been me—neither of you deserves this. Why don’t you guys go make out or something, and we’ll talk tomorrow. It’s late and I’m tired. So, you know. Get out.”

  “Geez Biz. Touchy,” Finn said, pretending to be aggrieved. Still, he did not hesitate to stand up, grab Tesla’s hand, and pull her toward the door. “We’ll talk tomorrow. When we’re not so tired. Or wound up. Or whatever it is we are.”

  When Bizzy had shut the door behind them, Finn and Tesla stood in the hallway, her hand still in his. Tesla swallowed, suddenly unable to look up and meet his eyes, even when she felt him looking intently at her.

  “What do you want—” Finn started to ask.

  “Would you mind if I—” Tesla said at the same time.

  They both stopped, Tesla’s eyes still on the floor.

  “I don’t want my dad to know I’m back,” she said suddenly, rushing into the strained silence. “I’m going back tomorrow, Finn—I hadn’t intended to come home yet, but … I had to find out if you were okay. Would you mind—can I stay here tonight?”

  When she did, finally, look up at him, she found his warm, brown eyes, lit with a golden intensity. She forced herself to exhale, long and slow, when she realized she wasn’t breathing.

  Without a word, Finn turned, their hands still clasped, and led Tesla down the hall to another room—his room. The old house settled with a sigh, the chill of November winds and all that the dark contained safely locked outside.

  CHAPTER 19

  The moment he heard the door click shut behind them—he and Tesla on one side, and everything else in the world on the other—Finn felt better. No, not better—he felt like he was himself, for the first time in…days? Years? Ever?

  Tesla spoke, and his moment of reflection dissolved, the tiny, scattered pieces of his insight quickly absorbed and forgotten.

  “Finn, I—thanks for letting me stay here, and—can I get a shower? And I don’t want you to think, I mean this isn’t about—”

  “Of course, and yeah, I totally get it,” he said. He was surprised by his own gentleness, a quality he had never associated with himself. She was nervous, self-conscious, and she seemed young and vulnerable as she stammered in front of him, not wanting to be misunderstood. He had expected when he opened his mouth that he would say something smartass, something to accentuate the sexual awkwardness and increase her discomfort, but…he simply didn’t.

  “Oh. Thanks,” she said, her relief obvious. “Ah, and can I borrow something to wear?”

  “Sure,” he said, his grin giving her some warning. “I think you’ll look much better in my clothes than Sam’s, anyway.”

  Tesla tried not to, but she felt the heat of her blush creep up her face, even as she said with meager bravado, “Oh, I don’t know. I think I look pretty good.”

  Finn paused as he rummaged in his dresser drawer to look at her, taking in the faded jeans that sat low on her hips, the tight T-shirt, the worn green flannel that he knew was far less soft than her incredible skin. “Well, I do have to give you that,” he acquiesced.

  “Here,” he said suddenly, tossing in quick succession a pair of boxers covered in hearts with little endearments written on them, like those Valentine’s Day candies, and a zippered hoodie that, as she caught it deftly and got a look at its size, was obviously far too small for Finn. He laughed at the pointed look she gave him, holding the tiny shirt up in front of her. “I think it’s Bizzy’s,” he said. “She always leaves her shit in the dryer and it winds up in everybody else’s laundry.”

  “And these?” Tesla asked, holding up the boxers. “Just a random choice?”

  Finn laughed, relieved to know both that he was still himself, capable of exploiting the sexual awkwardness of the situation a little bit, and that Tesla was laughing about it.

  Tesla walked quickly down the hall and into the bathroom. She found clean towels, neatly folded and stacked in the cabinet under the sink, as well as a worn scrunchie to put her hair up on top of her head. She shimmied out of Sam’s clothes, left them in a pile on the floor, and allowed herself a full ten minutes standing under the hot water. The last of her worries and tensions lifted and dissipated with the clouds of steam, all of her muscles relaxed, and she even found an almost-full bottle of body wash that smelled like mint and honeysuckle.

  Thank God there are girls in this house, she thought.

  After her shower, her skin faintly pink from the hot water, Tesla hesitated only a moment before grabbing one of the toothbrushes in the holder and using it. She caught her own glance in the mirror and laughed silently, unable to pretend to herself that she wasn’t thinking of the now eight-year-old burger and beers she’d had earlier, and the probable state of her breath because of them. Whoever’s toothbrush she had, it was a sacrifice on both the owner’s part and hers that she was nonetheless willing to make.

  Clean, refreshed, and relaxed, Tesla shook her long dark hair out and, after sort of peeling them off her eyeballs—which was nasty—she put the dark cosmetic lenses in an empty cup that sat on the counter, and put some water in it to keep them moist. And finally, she put on the clothes Finn had given her. The boxers were big, of course, the elastic waistband loose and barely hanging on at her hip bones, so she rolled it a few times, which didn’t help so much as it just made them shorter. The hoodie, however, made of some incredibly light, black cotton, with just enough spandex in it to hug her torso in the most intimate way, was incredibly small on her. The waistband hit her at her natural waist, a full seven inches above the boxers, the long sleeves just reached the middle of her forearms, and the fabric clung to her shoulders and ribs, clearly outlining the curve of her breasts.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, and despite the fogginess from the steam, she could clearly see that her outfit was sexy, totally hot, in fact, in a Beckett kind of way. Meaning that the clothes were incidental, except in terms of what they revealed and highlighted.

  Tesla shook her head, not in the least surprised that at a second’s notice Finn would find these specific items for her to wear—or that she would wear them without protest tonight.

  She took a deep breath, opened the door, and padded silently back down the hall to Finn, her heart flitting about wildly, bumping up against her sternum and ribcage like a moth caught in a lampshade, unable to escape the rising heat.

  When she opened his bedroom door, Tesla was working hard to keep her courage up. She stepped inside and turned to softly close the door before taking a deep breath and finally looking at Finn.

  Naturally, he was lying back on his alarmingly large bed, looking perfectly relaxed atop a blue and black plaid comforter, with his shoulders and head supported by two pillows. He cocked one eyebrow up, and the corresponding corner of his mouth went up with it in such an over-the-top, come-hither leer that Tesla laughed out loud.

  “Oh my god, you look like a total perv,” she said. “Very appealing.”

  “I’ll have you know that I am considered too sexy for my shir
t, as Right Said Fred aptly put it, and pretty much everything else.”

  “By whom?” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, over the too-tight fabric.

  “By the person best able to judge such things—myself.”

  “Well, you might want to reconsider your credentials,” she said, walking over to the bed as she considered him with mock seriousness. “You might be too moronic for your shirt, I suppose. And pretty much everything else.”

  “Shows what you know,” he said, highly dignified, and then he patted the bed near him. “Come sit down, we have stuff to talk about.”

  Tesla swallowed, once, and the sound of it seemed over-loud, at least in her head, a great nervous gulping that gave away everything.

  Finn didn’t seem to notice, though, as she came to the edge of the bed and sat on it, as far from him as she could get. Finn’s smile was slight, and fleeting.

  “So, Abbott, we’ve got this entanglement thing going on. We know almost nothing about it, and I think we should begin by comparing notes.”

  Tesla nodded, but waited for him to begin.

  Finn, always so relaxed to her eyes, put his hands behind his head, his fingers laced together, and crossed his legs at the ankles. He stared up at the ceiling, ignoring Tesla as he recounted out loud what he had been experiencing that he thought was likely attributable to the entanglement.

  “I think we can safely assume that when we went down into the Bat Cave last summer to find your dad and we got knocked out, some of what we experienced when we came to was part of it.”

  “How do you mean?” Tesla asked. She hadn’t even begun to think backwards and pinpoint the effects.

  Finn spoke eagerly. “Remember when we woke up and started talking, you had been drugged and I’d been hit in the head?”

  “Of course,” she said, frowning, unsure where he was going.