She cracked a smile before glancing around me and frowning. "Mike's gonna have a heart attack."

I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe the splattered paint from my face so I could a.s.sess the damage. It looked like a b.l.o.o.d.y ma.s.sacre. "s.h.i.t, you're right. Good thing I used plastic on the carpet."

Holly stood up. "I'll get some paper towels from the supply closet. A bunch of paper towels."

Both of us worked in silence for at least thirty minutes, scrubbing the walls, rolling up the sheets of plastic, and laying out new ones. At least she was willing to get within a few feet of me. It was a small amount of progress.

"Thanks for helping, Holly," I said after a while.

She wiped sweat from her forehead with her arm and ended up streaking red paint across it. "It's not your fault you suck at this job."

"What do you mean, I suck at this job?" I asked.

"That chick who kicked the crazy dude in the face ... she talked to me right after your dad dropped me off. She told me about your community service hours," Holly said with a shrug. "For getting arrested or ... something. What did you do, anyway?"

So Jenni Stewart had made up a cover story for me. How nice of her, except now I was spoiled-rich-kid-breaking-the-law, which was even worse than just spoiled-rich-kid.

"This," I said with a laugh, and picked up the small paintbrush, lifting it to her cheek. Then, before she could stop me, I swiped it across the side of her face.

Her eyes shut immediately. "You did not just do that."

"What are you going to do about it?" I teased.

She opened her eyes and darted around me, diving for the big roller in the paint tray, then held it up, ready to attack. "Go ahead and come a little closer, Jackson."

I put my hands in the air. "Okay, okay, I surrender."

"Fine." She lowered the roller so it hung at her side.

The second I reached down to pick up a wad of paper towels, I felt the wet, sticky roller running down my back. The paintbrush was still in my hand. I straightened up slowly and came face-to-face with her, grinning at her smug expression. I quickly swiped the paintbrush from her forehead down her nose. She ducked under my arm and pressed the roller down the back of my hair.

This went on for a couple more minutes until finally, after we were both covered in paint, I dropped down onto the plastic floor covering. "I gotta take a break."

Holly laughed and sat down beside me. "Truce?"

"Truce," I agreed.

After a few seconds of silence, she was nervous all over again, pulling her knees to her chest and chewing on her nails. I fiddled with the anklet around her leg, testing the waters a little. When she didn't jump or move away, I took the next step.

"Just so you know, I've never actually been in trouble before. It was just a stupid mix-up with a credit card and a fake ID."

She nodded and then rested her cheek on her knees. "So ... you really live in Manhattan?"

"It's true."

Her eyebrows arched upward. "Let me see your license."

I tugged on her arm until she was lying next to me. Then I handed over my wallet. She dug through it and pulled out my driver's license. "You were born in 1990, just like me. But you would be a senior, right? If you didn't drop out."

"Yeah, summer birthday. I started school early."

"So, where did you go to school?" she asked.

"I went to a very sn.o.bby private school on the Upper East Side," I answered with a sigh.

Holly wrinkled her nose. "Yuck."

"Tell me about it." I turned on my side to face her. "I like working here. Getting away from all that c.r.a.p I had to deal with in high school. And I swear, I had no idea anything would happen today. That was so freaky."

"But you've been around it all your life, haven't you?"

I wiped some of the paint from under her left eye. "Actually, I just found out about my dad's real job. A couple months ago, anyway. I'm still getting used to the idea."

"It's hard to believe he does stuff like that every day. I don't think I've ever been more scared in my entire life," she admitted.

My insides twisted with guilt. "I'm so sorry, and if it helps any, my legs are still shaking. That's probably why I fell off the ladder."

She smiled a little before sitting up. "Should we finish cleaning?"

I reluctantly got up from my comfortable spot. We both carted the trays and brushes into the guys' locker room.

"Maybe we should run the hot water over them and come back in a few minutes," I suggested.

"Yeah, that's probably best." Holly took off her tennis shoes and rolled up the bottom of her pants before turning on one of the showers.

"I hope this comes out of my hair," she said as she dropped her paint tray onto the floor, under the hot water.

"I think it looks good like that," I joked. Her arm was within reach and I couldn't resist the temptation. I grabbed the brush clutched in her hand and pulled hard enough to drag her under my shower. The water landed right on her head.

"I can't believe you just did that," she sputtered.

"I thought you should rinse the paint out of your hair before it dries." I moved under the water with her and she looked up at me and smiled, like she'd forgotten all about this morning, even though I knew she hadn't. Even though I knew how scared she'd been. And yet she was here. Now.

And then, before I could even try to stop her, Holly stood on her toes and kissed me lightly on the mouth. I instantly tossed the moral debate from earlier today out of my mind. Just the thought of us being closer sent my pulse racing, bringing me to life. The second her lips were against mine, both of us stepped closer, hands reaching out for some part of each other to grab hold of. My hands were on her face, her mouth moving with mine, fingers curling around the back of my neck, the stream from the shower running over us like a waterfall.

It was just like the first time ... a couple of years in the future.

The water suddenly turned from steaming hot to icy cold and both us jumped apart. I reached for the k.n.o.b and shut off the shower. Holly was shivering and dripping wet. I s.n.a.t.c.hed a couple towels from the shelf above the sink and wrapped one around her shoulders.

"You still have paint in your hair."

She laughed again, a nervous laugh, and then stepped around me, sitting down in front of one of the lockers. "I wonder if Toby's got an extra shirt in his locker."

I picked up the paint tray again and dropped it onto the shower floor and watched Holly yank on the lock. "d.a.m.n, it's closed."

Suddenly I had a flash of an image in my mind: Toby spinning the lock earlier today while I stood at the sink washing my hands.

"Twenty-two, sixteen, five," I said without even thinking about it. Then it hit me-Dr. Melvin had said something about a photographic memory the other day. When had I started being able to remember things like this, and what did it mean?

She turned the numbers perfectly and the lock popped open. "I hope there's nothing I don't want to see in here."

She didn't seem in the least bit concerned that I knew his combination, but it wasn't exactly a safe full of money. It was a gym locker, probably filled with sweaty socks and possibly deodorant. I pushed the questions aside and added them to my list for Adam, when I finally got a chance to fill him in on everything.

"You're not going to ... uh ... tell anyone about this, are you?" Holly asked while her head was half stuffed in the locker.

I had to a.s.sume "this" meant us kissing and not the paint incident. Or maybe both ...

"Not if you don't want me to," I said.

She sighed and plopped down on the bench that was pushed up against the wall. "I'm just imagining all the s.h.i.t Toby and David will give me for this."

"For getting in a paint fight?" I sat down next to her, and both of us leaned back against the wall.

"Not about the paint." Her cheeks turned a little pink.

"Your friends are teasing you about me?" I asked.

She nodded. "Ever since the poker game ... And teasing is an understatement."

I leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck, just below her ear. I could feel the goose b.u.mps rise on her skin. "You don't have to tell them anything. It can be our secret."

Holly smiled and laced her fingers through mine. "Well ... then we have to have a secret meeting place, so no one knows."

I stared at her face for a minute, taking in the youthful, dreamy expression. 007 Holly was different from the older one. The girl I met in 2009 was deep and a.n.a.lytical like this girl, but a lot more serious and realistic. She didn't spend her free time climbing things and turning upside down. She didn't take nearly as many risks. It was almost like we had switched places.

I kissed her again, then put an arm around her shoulders. "Let's see ... well ... there was a great make-out spot at my high school, under the third-floor stairwell. Lots of scandals happened there."

"Jackson?" someone called from outside the locker room.

Holly and I both jumped up and walked out the door to go back into the gym. Dad was wandering around, taking in the mess we'd made with the paint.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

I could feel Holly stiffen and move behind me.

"What the h.e.l.l happened?" Dad asked.

"I fell off a ladder," I answered.

He had his phone out and punched b.u.t.ton after b.u.t.ton. "We've got some ... family business to take care of right now."

"Now? What about the gym?" I asked.

"I can clean up," Holly said, barely louder than a whisper.

Dad shook his head. "I've got someone coming. It'll be good as new in a couple hours."

"I guess I'll get going, then," Holly said, heading toward the staff room.

I followed behind her and grabbed my stuff. "Thanks again ... for staying. You didn't have to."

She glanced sideways at Dad through the open staff room door, then back at me before kissing me quickly on the mouth. "Oh ... and Jackson, there's no good stairwells at my school and you can't get in without a student ID. So I'll have to tell my friends the truth."

"If that's what you want," I said, smiling at her.

I'm pretty sure she just declared herself my girlfriend. Again.

"I'll wait for you outside," Dad told me before heading out the front doors.

Holly smiled at me again and leaned her shoulder against the wall. "He's a little bit scary, I'll admit that."

"What about me?" I asked.

She took a step closer and reached for my hand. "Mostly, you just make me nervous, but in a good way."

I kissed her forehead and then moved my mouth to her cheek, drifting closer to her lips. My phone was clutched in one hand and it buzzed. I groaned before flipping it open and reading Dad's text: Outside Now!

"I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow?" I tossed my jacket around her so she wouldn't freeze on the way home, and ran outside.

Dad was waiting for me.

"Get in the car." He pointed to a black car parked on the street.

I slid into the backseat and the second I saw the tall man beside me, blending into the dark, the fear from earlier today returned. It was the blue-suit guy with the secret fingerprint scanner, dragging people to the underground place in the hospital. I reached for the door so I could jump out, but Dad was already flying down the street.

"What the h.e.l.l is he doing here?" I moved all the way over, gripping the door handle.

"You know Chief Marshall?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, we've met." I barely had the words out when the crazy tall dude pressed a towel to my face.

Not good. I slumped over against the cold window and everything faded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

OCTOBER 13, 2007, 2:00 A.M.

The first thing I noticed after peeling my eyes open was the old man leaning over me, shining a tiny light in my face. The smell of whatever chemical they'd used to knock me out must have been superglued to the insides of my nostrils.

I was lying on a couch in what looked like a normal living room. I blocked the light with my hand. "Dr. Melvin? What are you doing here? Where am I?"

Dad came up behind me and flipped on the lamp sitting on the end table. "This location is confidential. That's why we had to knock you out."