Page 24 of The Déjà Glitch
It was a sincere plea, and although she felt like she was the punch line of a joke that only he knew, she had been growing less skeptical since the scene at Aunt Clara’s.
She sat back in her seat and gave her memory a good sweep. Nothing jumped out at her, so she opted for the thought she’d had back in the coffee shop.
“Actor?”
He laughed a funny sound high in his throat before sighing. “No, not an actor. I’m a TV screenwriter.”
As soon as he said it, a tiny spark triggered in her brain, but not bright enough to call a memory.
“Interesting. Anything I know?”
He smiled again but there was something reserved about it. Humble. “If you’ve watched any premium-channel dramas in the past five years, then yes, definitely.”
She was impressed at the same time a piece clicked in her head.
“Wait. If you’re a writer, you spend a lot of time making up stories. Are you sure you didn’t make up this one we’re supposedly in? This whole time loop thing?”
He laughed as if she’d said something truly funny. The sound was warm and bright. “Oh no. I’d never write something this cheesy.”
“Should I be offended by that?”
“No, not at all. I only mean this is all so riddled withcliché. I can hardly stand it, and I’m living it. I can’t imagine watching this.”
“What, you don’t like a good time loop story? Everyone likes a time loop story.”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shake of his head and a wry grin. “They are so... predictable.”
“If that were the case, wouldn’t you have found your way out of this one by now?”
He took his eyes off the road, and the way he looked at her, with unabashed wonder in his gaze, warmed her face. “That is an excellent point. This one must be different.” He held her gaze for a second longer than felt safe, and Gemma gasped. Not at the vicarious, thrilling rush his driving without looking gave her, but at the song that came on the radio.
“This song!” she blurted, and poked the console to turn up the volume. “It’s following me, I swear!” For the second time that day and what felt like the millionth time in her life, her favorite pop song pulsed into her ears.
Jack grinned, eyes back on the road.
Seeing half of his smile and hearing the lyrics, she suddenly remembered the flash of dream-memory she’d gotten when she heard it earlier.
“You know this is my favorite song, don’t you?”
He bit his lip as if he was afraid to admit it and nodded.
Gemma paused and thought hard about what she was going to say next. She felt like she was about to cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, though she might have done that when she got in the car with him back in Hollywood.
“I think... I think I remember us listening to it together.”
Jack almost swerved the same way she had earlier that morning.
“Youwhat?”
“Careful!” she scolded, and reached for the wheel.
“Sorry.” He gripped the wheel with both hands until his knuckles turned white. “But, Gemma, what did you say? Yourememberus listening to it?”
“I think so,” she said, meekly and reluctant to admit it. “I heard it after I left the coffee shop, and it reminded me of you, of being with you and listening to it in a bar, but it was like remembering a dream, not something that really happened.” She turned to him, her quiet voice almost lost in the lyrics. “Didthat really happen?”
“Yes,” Jack said without hesitation. “Last night at Lila’s birthday party, I had them put it on because I know it’s your favorite song. I was doing everything to put you in a good mood to test my theory.”
Gemma felt like her brain exploded. It was the first bit of evidence that seemed real. A warm rush suddenly filled her cheeks as she remembered something else.