Ominous by Kate Brian

suddenly and looked directly into my eyes. It took a moment for me tocatch my breath. My hand was inside the opening of his shirt, holding onto his waist.
    “I love you, you know,” he said, trailing a fingertip down my cheekbone.
    “I love you too,” I said.
    Then he laid his palm flat on my cheek. His fingers were unbelievably warm and his breath was ragged on my face. “But we’re not gonna do this here.”
    I looked up into his eyes. “We’re not?”
    He leaned in and kissed my cheek, then my temple, then my forehead. “We’re going to do this, don’t get me wrong. Just not … here.”
    I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat and exhaled. My head dropped forward and I rested my face against his chest. He placed his chin atop my head and just held me. He was right, of course. We couldn’t have our first time together be here. In this place where Dash McCafferty and I had confronted Thomas Pearson’s brother, Blake, after Thomas had died. This place where Sabine had drugged Josh and tricked him into hooking up with Cheyenne. It had always been our place before that, and we’d made it our place again since. But it was tainted. And Josh and I—we deserved better.
    “Are you mad?” he asked.
    “No,” I replied, shaking my head as best I could.
    “Will a present make it better?” he asked.
    I lifted my chin to look up at him. “Always,” I said with a laugh.
    He sat up and I did too, adjusting the skirt of my dress, which had ridden up a considerable amount. Josh took a deep breath andblew it out, like he was relieved to have gotten through that conversation. I smiled and put my hand on his back. For some reason, in that moment, I loved him more than I could have imagined possible.
    Glancing at me over his shoulder, Josh leaned forward and tugged something out from under the couch. It was a dark gray book with weathered yellow pages. When he placed it on his lap, I could just make out a gold date embossed near the bottom right corner.
    1915–1916
    My heart all but stopped “Is that—?”
    “The Billings School for Girls annual,” he said, holding it up so I could see the spine. “Complete with class photos.”
    “Shut. Up!” I said, grabbing for the book. He held it away—over the arm of the couch—like we were suddenly playing one-on-one out on the basketball court. “Where did you get that?”
    “I dug it out of the archives this afternoon.”
    I got on my knees and made another grab, but his arm was annoyingly long. He lifted his other hand to stop me and my butt hit the cushions again.
    “What?” I asked petulantly.
    “You have to promise me one thing,” he said.
    “A gift with provisions? I don’t like it,” I joked.
    He smiled and placed the book in my hands but kept his own heavy palm on the cover, holding it closed. “If she looks different in the picture than she did in your dream, you’ll drop this,” he said. “Nomore midnight treks through the woods, no more listening to people who appear in your dreams. Promise me you’ll drop it.”
    I looked at him, the words crowding my throat, but I couldn’t seem to let them go. His green eyes turned serious and he looked at the floor. “Reed, I just … I want you safe, okay? That’s all.”
    “I know,” I said. “I get it.”
    And I did. Because after everything, that was all I wanted from him, too.
    “I promise. If she looks different, I will drop it,” I told him.
    “Okay,” he said. He lifted his hand from the cover.
    I hesitated, looking at him uncertainly. “Josh? What if she
does
look the same?”
    His eyes clouded with concern. “Then … I don’t know.” He nodded at the book. “Page twenty-two.”
    I hungrily skipped to the designated page, rushing by ancient print and grainy black-and-white photographs. When the book fell open to page twenty-two, I stopped. Because there, staring back at me from a sepia-toned photograph set in a large oval, was Elizabeth Williams. The dark hair, pulled back from