His hand hovered mid-air, failing to connect with Skye's outstretched fingers. The can dropped between them, bouncing off the ceramic tiles – popping, hissing and fizzing on the kitchen floor.

"Uh... Will? Are you okay? You look a little strange." She reached out to touch his arm, brows knitting together in concern. Her 1 flashed so brightly it made him flinch. Ears ringing, stomach-turning, the room spun off-kilter around him.

"I ... don't feel well all of a sudden," he croaked and took a step backwards, blurting a lame excuse about being prone to sunstroke before taking off out the back door. Pushing himself through the deepening dusk, he gulped for air as he stumbled home. Scratching at his pocket to grab his keys, he turned the lock and burst inside, sagging against the door. Nothing was louder than his ragged breathing and ramming heart.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Skye doesn't look sick, could she be sick? Her 1 practically glowed when he looked at her, though, so she seemed strong. Could she be some kind of closeted daredevil worse than Josh on steroids? Based on her responsible behavior, he highly doubted it. How could she be a 1? Will's brain raced as he slid down onto the floor. His body was slick with cold sweat and a shiver crawled down his neck. He hated knowing. It was too much.

I can't watch this again. The last time he'd seen a 1, it had stared back at him from Alex's left pupil. Will blinked as an image of his best friend bloomed behind his eyes. Alex's hair was dark against the white pillowcase, his mouth determined to smile despite how much effort it took, his hand so frail it trembled as he clasped Will's fingers.

Appearing in the hallway, Toby cocked his head and trotted over to nudge his master's leg. Sighing, he lay down and leaned his head on Will's lap.

"Toby." Will's voice cracked as he breathed his name. Fingers shaking, he reached for the dog's warm fur and slowly his heartbeat began to calm. The rhythmic sound of Toby's panting helped blow painful thoughts of Alex's last days away.  They sat together on the floor until the setting sun painted the hallway a deep sepia and Will's stomach began to growl. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and finally pushed himself up to standing.

Padding to the kitchen with Toby by his side, he filled the dog's bowl and made himself some peanut butter toast. Camping out in the living room, he played a slew of video games to numb his aching brain. Around 9:30, Toby dropped his leash at Will's feet, reminding him to get on with their nightly walk.

"Pretty hard to hide from the world with you around, boy." He ruffled Toby's golden fur and grabbed his leash before they stepped out into the night; the sky was like a damp blanket, punctured with stars. Will did his best to clear his mind as Toby's nose sniffed the edges of the sidewalk along their regular route.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves approaching Shelby's house. Walking closer, Will saw the woman from the other night, presumably Skye's mom, sitting in a white wicker chair on the front porch. Light cast over her from the open window; she was pretty and pale with the same long, lean build as Skye, but blond instead of dark. She appeared deep in thought with a pensive look on her face. When Toby woofed a hello, she startled, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. Will gave her a quick wave, and she raised an elegant hand in response, flashing him her daughter's grin. He shivered and walked on.

***

On Sunday morning, Will slept in until eleven and lounged by the TV, comforted by sugary cereal, Netflix, and Toby snoring by his feet. A knock on the door made him jump up, swipe at his bedhead, and throw a T-shirt over his shoulders before heading down the hall to investigate.

When he opened the door, Skye was standing on his front step. Will's heart took a runaway elevator down to his stomach.  Thankfully, sunglasses covered her eyes again, so he didn't have to look at her 1. He stood in the doorway, speechless, as she handed him a popsicle.

"I thought you might want one of these. Feeling any better?" She looked over his shoulder into the house. "Josh told me you lived here."

"Um, yeah." His mouth was dry. "And, yeah, we're practically neighbors."

Smooth, Will. Very smooth. He gave her a weak smile and took the popsicle from her hand. Breaking it in two, he offered her the other half. 

"Orange is my favorite," she said with a smile. "So, would you mind if I come in? I mean, I remembered what you said yesterday about your dad, and I wondered if I could look at some of his books. That is if it's no trouble..."

Will paused for a second. The discovery of her 1 still stung. After what happened to Alex, the last thing he wanted was to get close to someone who only had one shot left at life. No, thanks. Not again.

Skye seemed to sense his hesitation and took a step back. "You know what? Maybe this was dumb. Look, feel better, and I'll see you around, okay?" The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she blushed.

Crap. He didn't mean to seem like an asshole. After all, Skye wouldn't have a clue about the existence of her 1, or the meaning it carried. Shaking his head, he opened the door. "No. It's fine. Really. Come on in."

She gave him a small smile and stepped inside, pushing her shades onto the top of her head.

Will avoided her gaze, cleared his throat, and nodded toward his father's study. "Follow me. Dad's office is just down the hall."

"Wow, you have a nice place," she said, looking around. "My mom's an interior designer, so I know a few things. Feels like a happy home."

Will allowed himself to catch her eye. Her 1 shone iridescent, like a pearl. Willing himself not to flinch, he cleared his throat. "Your mom's an interior designer, but she's here for the summer instead of overseeing the condo reno herself?" His parents were hands-on with their work, so he couldn't imagine them stepping away from a personal project like that.

"Uh," she paused for a second and looked away. "No. Not this time." Something about her tone reminded him of the first night he'd walked her back to Shelby's; she'd softened since then, but still didn't seem keen on answering questions about her mother.

Brushing a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, she examined the photography collection on the wall. Black and white pictures hung in clean, modern frames, capturing snippets from Will's parents' travels, including a few of Will over the years: grasping for the camera with his chubby toddler hands, scaling rocks at the beach when he was ten, sitting at the end of the cottage dock last summer.

When Will looked at recent photographs, his mom's 2 and his dad's 3 stared out at him, frozen in time. Close-ups from the past were his favorite. Seeing the people he loved wearing smiles and a fresher set of numbers from younger, healthier times always made him smile. In his room, a frame capturing a fishing trip with his grandpa sat on his dresser. Little Will beamed at the camera, holding up a catfish no larger than his small hand, and his grandpa's face bloomed with pride, his mirthful 1 captured forever in his left pupil.     

Opening the study door, Will revealed a high ceilinged room lined with tall shelves bursting with books. He'd always loved his dad's space. The mahogany desk, leather chair dimpled with buttons and patterned Persian rug made the room cozy and scholarly at the same time; it was the perfect place to curl up and read on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

Skye walked into the room, breathed "whoa," finished her popsicle, and began roaming the shelves, hungrily scanning book spines for topics and titles that interested her. As she explored, Toby appeared in the doorway and made a beeline for her, sniffing at her hand.

"Oh my god, who's this?" She giggled.

"This," Will said with exaggerated formality, "is Toby. Be prepared. He's a terrible flirt and attention whore."

"Now, that's my kind of dog." Skye smiled and reached out to scratch Toby behind his soft ears. "I used to have a golden retriever when I was younger – he's gorgeous, by the way." At the touch of Skye's hand, Toby collapsed on the floor at her feet.

"C'mon, Toby, play hard to get for once, why don't you?" Will rolled his eyes, then laughed, reaching down to pat Toby's head. "He's pretty much the biggest suck on the planet."  Skye sat down on the floor with Toby, cradling his head in her lap. His eyes were closed in doggy bliss as she ran her fingers through his fur.

"My dog Bullet was super affectionate, too. My stepdad's ... particular, so we had to give Bullet away after we moved into his place." Skye frowned. "That was over five years ago." She paused, and Will wondered where the pieces to her puzzle fit.  One moment she was bright and curious, and the next she faded, like a vibrant photo filtered to black and white. Her 1 seemed chained to her emotions, its brilliance muting as she breathed a sigh.

"I can't imagine giving Toby away. That must have been brutal."

Sunlight streamed through the large window over the desk, catching auburn highlights in Skye's hair.

"Yeah, I was pretty much crushed. It was even worse 'cause my real dad gave me Bullet a year before he died. I wanted to hold onto that dog with everything I had instead of giving him away. The whole situation blew."

"Geez. I'm sorry – about Bullet, and about your dad." She'd already lost a parent? He knew she had a stepdad, but didn't realize her father was dead. In just a couple of sentences, she'd revealed a lifetime of hurt. Will's stomach flipped over. There had to be more to her story -- her number didn't make sense otherwise.

Skye shrugged as her emerald gaze caught Will's eye. Her 1 flashed in the sunlight, and he balled his right fist, making short fingernails bite sharply into his skin.

"I'm not going to lie, Will; it was rough. It took a really long time, but I can talk about Dad now, and be okay with it. He was an architect. Met my mom when her team decorated a building he designed. Love at first sight, they said. You know, I used to hate that mushy stuff, but looking back, it was nice."

Will didn't know what to say, so he just let Skye talk.

"We were hit head-on by a drunk driver while we were on a family vacation. Mom and I were in critical condition. Dad died on impact. It was almost unbearable. I was only eight years old."

Goosebumps rose on Will's arms; her number was starting to make sense.

"Anyway," she broke the silence. "Shit happens, right?" Planting a big kiss on Toby's forehead, she stood up, let out a deep breath and smiled shyly. "Oops. I didn't come over here to tell you my life's story. Sorry, I know it's a lot to take in."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Skye. I know what it's like to lose someone who means the world to you." Will  took a deep breath. "My best friend Alex died last year. Of cancer. He didn't even make it to his seventeenth birthday." A lump was forming in his throat.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry, Will." Skye reached out and squeezed his arm, genuine concern blooming on her face. Her 1 shifted from pewter to pearl, growing more luminous as she held his gaze. Looking away, he walked over to his dad's desk and picked up a paperweight that held a dandelion puff in its resin.  Staring into its depths for a moment, he put it back down.

"No apologies, remember?" Leaning against the desk, he sighed, and Toby's ears perked up in response. Leaving Skye's side, Toby crossed the room to sit beside Will, placing a paw on his master's foot, a canine sign of solidarity. Hand buried in Toby's fur, Will looked back at Skye. "Josh and I used to be a trio. We did everything with Alex; my mom used to say the three of us we were tight as a knot."

Images flashed behind Will's eyes: sunlit afternoons at the ball diamond; Lego towers scattered over Alex's bedroom floor; birthday parties and bad movies; the first day of high school; Alex's wide smile as he lifted their basketball team's championship trophy over his head.

"He was super athletic; aced every sport he tried. He was so strong no one suspected he was sick..."

Well, almost no one.

Will could still feel the cool nip of late October air and hear the crunch of leaves underfoot as he and Alex walked home from school that day. They'd been joking, and when Will met Alex's gaze, he'd nearly tripped on a deep crack in the sidewalk. Somehow, Alex's trusty 4 had turned into a 3. At the time, Will told himself to chill -- after all, there were tons of 3s, Josh included. Maybe Alex had just taken a crazy hit in football or had some other random run-in with fate.

Yeah, that had to be it.

"Alex had a cold he couldn't seem to shake, but a lot of people were sick that winter, you know? It didn't seem like a big deal at first."

Until that Saturday afternoon when everything changed.

They'd been sitting in Alex's rec room watching the game when his team scored. Jumping up, he'd fist-pumped the air with delight and turned to face Will. Inexplicably, his silver 3 shook and morphed into a soft dove gray 2. Will had struggled to breathe as fear clawed at his throat. He made up an excuse about not feeling well and ran home, holing up in his bed, shaken to the core. Will's mom made homemade soup and felt for fever. Once his teeth started chattering, he couldn't seem to make them stop.

What could he do? Warn Alex about something he couldn't explain? Make him worry about fears Will couldn't understand? Maybe his number's decline would just stop -- after all, Alex was young. It had to stop, right?

Except it didn't stop. It kept getting worse.

"But Alex just got getting sicker. He started missing school and right before playoffs, his doctor diagnosed him with Hodgkin's Lymphoma." Will heard Skye suck in a sharp breath.  "People fundraised to help with medical bills, Alex started treatment, and his family was optimistic; most people were."

Except for me. I envied them so much, believing everything would be okay. But I couldn't unsee his number, and I didn't know how to help. I felt so useless; all I could do is watch.

Will had never been much of an actor, but he'd mustered the enthusiasm of an army whenever Alex shared news of experimental options and messages of hope. Still, as the weeks passed, Alex's 2 faded into a mouse-grey 1, and the doctor's messages started to match the number Will saw.

It was hard for Will to look at Alex's family straight on when he'd visit the house. Alex's parents' faces were pinched and their smiles were brittle; his sister Kate, a honey-blonde beauty, was pale and uncharacteristically quiet. He'd known them for years, but he couldn't tell them the truth. Will felt dirty, like the knowledge of Alex's 1 had turned his insides to dust.

"In the end, it wasn't enough. Alex died last May."

On a gray, fucking unremarkable Monday afternoon.

The night Alex died, Will trekked out to Miller's Quarry. It wasn't fair that he was a healthy 4 while Alex was gone forever. So, he climbed up the hard, black rocks, heart racing, and took his own high dive down into the inky water, like Josh had done on one of his reckless tears a year before. Soaked to the bone, he walked home and sat shivering on the front step until his parents coaxed him inside. Before bed, he looked into the bathroom mirror and saw a fresh 3 winking at him from where his 4 had been.

I didn't know how to save Alex; I got what I deserved. 

"Oh my God." Skye crossed the room and folded him into a hug, her head on his shoulder.

Will put his arms around her and hugged back.

Stepping away, her 1 flashed as their eyes met. The surface of his skin prickled, and his cheeks felt warm. Clearing his throat, he chased the moment away, and Skye turned back to face the bookshelves.

"So... is it really okay if I borrow some of these? I promise to bring them back in perfect condition, plus I'm a fast reader." She slid her fingertips across the shelves as she browsed.

"Go ahead. I'm sure Dad won't mind." Benjamin Brody's profession was his passion, and he was always trying to enlighten his son with facts and theories.

In the end, Skye selected three books: Elliot Arronson's The Social Animal, Timothy Wilson's Strangers to Ourselves, and Phillip Zombardo's The Lucifer Effect.

"These should keep me busy for a while." She smiled and pulled her phone from her back pocket to check the time. "Crap. Mom told me to be back by two. I have to help her with some errands so I better run."

They walked back down the picture-laden hallway to the front door, with Toby close at their heels.

"Thanks for the books." Skye pulled her shades back on and stepped out onto the front step.

"Thanks for the popsicle." He leaned against the doorway, and his lips curved into a small smile despite his misgivings.

"You can never go wrong with orange," she winked. Mahogany ponytail swinging, Skye skipped down the sunlit steps. As she walked away, Will watched her disappear down the street.

***