MILA WAS HALF-IN her body, half-not. Eleven a.m. was prime Waffle House time, and the place was bustling. Forks clanged against dishes and cups slammed onto tables. The sweet smell of waffles mingled with the salty, fatty scent of bacon. Voices fought to be heard over one another. Mila sat against the window. When Louise saw her, she grinned and waved. Her hair was pulled back in what was meant to be a ponytail, but it was too short. More pieces fell around her neck than were held back in the rubber band.

    "Sofía!" She pulled a pencil out from behind her ear and flipped open a black notepad. "Don't even bother telling me what you want to drink. I have a surprise for you. You're gonna flip." She didn't stop smiling the whole time she spoke. Still, she scribbled something down in her notebook as if Mila had told her something.

Mila arched an eyebrow. All this secrecy and excitement stirred something in her. "You're a woman of mystery, Louise Kaplan."

"What can I say?" Louise winked, gave Mila a cheeky little grin, and padded off to take care of the late-breakfast rush.

As Mila mulled over the menu, Lou reappeared with a white coffee cup and a smug grin. She placed it in front of Mila. "Voila!"

Cinnamon sprinkled over a generous helping of whipped cream. Mila leaned down and got a whiff of that unmistakable chocolatey smell.

"With milk and cinnamon, just the way you like it," Louise boasted. "Hope you don't mind the whipped cream. It's going on your bill as coffee. Shh, don't tell." Another wink.

"Lou, you didn't."

"I had some packets lying around at home—"

"No. I mean, you actually, seriously, really, absolutely didn't. I can't believe you did this for me."

Why did such a small gesture feel so special? Maybe it was because Louise had actually paid attention. Maybe because she'd gone out of her way for her, maybe because she was breaking a rule for her. Maybe because it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her, and she'd known her for—what, three days? Maybe it was because Mila was a sucker for hot chocolate. Or maybe it was because...

Mila hadn't realized how pretty Louise was before. Her short, chocolatey brown hair. Her smooth skin and curved, aquiline nose. Her pretty brown eyes framed in thick eyelashes. The way the sun seemed to light her on fire when the sunlight hit her. How good she smelled, and how lovely her smile was, and how kind she was. She was so soft and gentle and warm.

Mila's mind wandered to Kalani. How she'd felt the same way about her. All she'd wanted to do was kiss her until the world disappeared. When she'd found out she'd had a girlfriend, she burned with jealousy and anger. She hadn't understood what any of that meant.

Did she like girls?

What the fuck do I do with that? Mila wondered.

Panic bit at her chest. She thought of Adrian. Had she been forcing that? Had she pretended to like him because he was a him? Because it was something she was expected to do, something she thought she had to do? She shut her eyes, lifted the mug to her lips, and took a sip. Perfect. Louise had outdone herself, really. As Mila wiped the whipped cream off her nose, she weighed her heart.

A piece of her still loved Adrian. A piece of her always would. What she'd felt for him hadn't been faked or forced. It'd been real, genuine. Because from the get-go Mila had been the one in control. She liked Adrian because he was Adrian. Before Kalani, before Louise... she'd never liked a girl before, had she?

She wasn't sure.

But she liked them. And she liked Adrian.

... she was bisexual, wasn't she? Wasn't she?

The realization made her feel like she was dancing on clouds, but a thunderstorm brewed. All light and fluffy and airy inside but like any second lightning could strike.

"Is it good?" Louise asked with an eager grin hidden behind clasped hands.

Jesus Christ, Mila was a little bit in love with her.

***

"COME WITH ME."

Louise had on another smug grin. Mila downed the last sip of her hot cocoa and arched an eyebrow.

"Where?"

"Come with me and you'll see!" Louise singsonged, twirling around Mila's booth. "Come on, Sof." Mila didn't mind when Louise called her Sof. "Jacob said he'd watch the place for a sec. Come on come on come on come on. Pretty pleaaaaaaase with a cherry on top?"

Mila looked behind the counter at Jacob, a pudgy, baby-faced East Asian sixteen-year-old with a haircut that looked like he'd skinned a beaver and wore it as a hat. He was testing how many straws he could balance on his nose. He barely looked old enough to stay home without a babysitter. But the shop was empty other than the three of them. And it wasn't like he'd be guarding the Pentagon, just a run-down Waffle House.

She shook her head. The past few days had passed in a gray haze. All day every day she sat in Waffle House, forcing down food that was less appetizing by the day. Her only reprise was when Louise was working.

And she did like surprises.

Mila shrugged and slid out of the booth. "The cherry on top really sold it."

Louise squealed. "Come on! Grab your coat."

Mila pulled her sweatshirt over her t-shirt and followed Louise behind the counter and into the breakroom, where she grabbed a camel-colored trench coat from her locker. Mila'd never seen Louise not in her work clothes, but she caught a glimpse of her street clothes folded neatly in the bottom of her locker: a pair of pointed-toe brown loafers on top of a worn-leather messenger bag, a black-and-white striped sweater, and a pair of gray plaid slacks. Louise tossed her coat over one shoulder, narrowing her eyes at Mila as she smirked at her. Then she led her down the hallway into the freezer, stopping midway through at a gray ladder hanging against the wall. She grabbed onto it, plopping a foot down on it. The ladder trailed up to a gray hatch on the ceiling.

Louise pulled her trench coat on. Thumbing through the pockets, she gave Mila another smug grin and pulled out a silver flask.

Mila arched her eyebrows at her. "You don't strike me as the type to sneak alcohol on the job." She didn't strike her as the type to sneak around with her friends during her shift, either.

Louise winked and neatly tucked the flask back in her pocket. "You'd be amazed by half the things I do."

Mila shook her head, her heart hammering in her chest. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her black jeans. Lou climbed up the ladder, unlocking the hatch with a key swinging from her lanyard. She pushed it open and climbed onto the roof. Turning around, she leaned over and looked at Mila upside down.

"Are you coming?"

Mila rolled her eyes and took the ladder a rung at a time, pulling herself up on the roof after Louise. She shivered, the cold desert air biting straight through her sweatshirt.

"This is my favorite place to go when things are slow." Louise linked her elbow through Mila's and led her over to the other side of the roof, over the entrance. Beneath them, the parking lot pulsed beneath the light of a dying streetlight. Across from them, the gray outline of the Devil's Gravestone rose alongside the half-moon. "You can see for miles all around. Much prettier in the daytime, but at night you can see all the stars."

    Louise and Mila tilted their heads back to look up at the stars, their elbows still linked. Mila couldn't think of anything other than their arms tangled together. (Mila was so focused on the stars that she didn't realize it, but all Louise could look at was her.) The sky sprawled above them, spanning from the flat desert on one side to the flat desert on the other, an endless globe hanging over their heads. Mila had never seen so many stars before. There weren't any back home, only city lights.

Louise uncapped her flask and raised it to her lips. "Á ta santé." She tilted her head back and took a swig, screwing her face up as she passed it to Mila.

Mila did the same. "Is that French?"

Louise got a faraway, dreamy look in her eyes. She nodded and capped the flask, plopping it back in her pocket. (Mila was grateful. She didn't want to get drunk. Just needed a little liquid courage.) Louise sat down on the roof, bending her legs in front of her and wrapping her arms around them. "I've never been. Have you?"

Mila shook her head and sat beside her. "No. I've only ever been to Peru. My family's there."

"I've never even left the country." Louise lay down on her back.

Mila swiveled herself around before lying down so her head was by Louise's, but her body pointed in the opposite direction. "Do you want to?"

"It's my dream to go to Paris."

"Why don't you?"

Louise laughed sharply, shaking her head against the ground. "I don't know what fairytale world you're living in, but I work at Waffle House."

"And is that what you want to do with the rest of your life?"

"No." Lou scoffed. "Of course not. I'm going to medical school once I graduate. Waitressing just pays the bills."

"A doctor, huh?" Louise had never struck Mila as the "doctor" type. She seemed more like... more like a historian, or a curator, or a language teacher. But Louise was a stranger to her. She didn't know her, even if it felt like she did. "And is that what you want to do with the rest of your life?"

Louise looked at Mila out of the corner of her eye and then looked back up at the stars. For a second she lay there in silence. "...no?" she finally said, like it was a question, like she didn't know, like the thought of doing something else had never occurred to her before and she didn't know what to make of that idea. "Lord, if I could do a million other things, I would."

"Why would you do something if it doesn't make you happy?" Mila asked.

Louise splayed her fingers across her face. "The world doesn't work like that."

"What would you do if you did?"

"I don't know."

"Are you ever going to go to Paris?"

"Hopefully someday."

That didn't satisfy Mila. She didn't want a "Hopefully someday." She wanted a "Yes, absolutely, no matter what it takes."

"Let's go to Paris," Mila suggested, deadly serious.

"What, right now? Louise replied. "I'll be on the next plane out of here."

"We can catch one tomorrow. We'll stay like this tonight."

"I call the window seat."

"Only if you'll act as my personal translator."

"You don't even know if I'm fluent."

"You know one French phrase. That's good enough for me."

"It's your lucky day. I'm minoring in French."

"Thank God. I was worried I'd have to talk to Europeans."

Louise laughed. "I wish it could work like that. That we could hop on a plane tomorrow and get out of this place. Lord, that sounds romantic, doesn't it?"

But Mila knew it could work like that. And it would work like that. And she'd spend the rest of her life living like that. "We could."

"Yeah, in a million years."

"No." Mila shook her head. "We could. I'm serious, Lou. Let's go to Paris tomorrow."

"And what about my job?"

"Who cares about your job? Come with me. We can start with Paris. Then on to New Delhi. Then Cape Town. We can travel the world together. We can run away together. We can leave this place for good."

"Sofía." Louise's voice was soft, hesitant, and terribly sad. "I can't."

A freeze frame sounded in Mila's head. Sofía. Louise didn't even know her real name.

"Run away with me," Mila said. She hated the way her voice sounded—like she was pleading. But she didn't want to leave Louise.

"Sofía..." Louise traced Mila's jawbone with her pointer finger. A thrill shot through Mila's body. She wanted this, forever. She wanted this, right now.

"Don't you want to?" Mila tilted her head closer toward Louise, their foreheads pressing together. She smelled like bread baking in the oven, like home.

"More than anything in the world." Louise's eyes were half-lidded. A blush spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. "Say it one more time."

"Run away with me." Mila leaned even closer, their lips nearly touching. She could feel the heat of Louise's body. Her own heart pounded in her chest. She'd never wanted to kiss someone so badly. She couldn't wait for their lips to meet.

"Kiss me," Louise said.

But they were a second too late. The sound of an engine rumbling into the parking lot broke them both from their spell. Louise sat up, her expression evening out to neutral. Mila joined her. Headlights pulled in, bringing with them a long, white semi.

Louise got to her feet and brushed the dust off her apron. "Someone's here. I've gotta head back down. Bless his heart, Jacob can't do this on his own."

Mila reluctantly got to her feet, giving one last look at the stars and the Devil's Gravestone. Tomorrow, she told herself. She and Louise, they still had tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. It wasn't like she was leaving this place anytime soon. She could still convince her. She could still kiss her. She had time. They had time. And tomorrow it would be so much sweeter.

They slid back down the ladder. Louise dropped her coat off in the breakroom, folding it neatly in her locker. They headed back out into the restaurant. Jacob stood in the corner, his AirPods in, glued to his phone. He hadn't heard the guy come in.

Mila froze.

The hair was... it was a different shade of red. More orange than anything. It spilled out into a rough, scruffy beard on his nonexistent chin. There were a couple patchy spots and red welts where he'd cut himself shaving. His watery blue eyes trembled, hidden behind a pair of thin, wired glasses. But she couldn't escape those eyes. Blue eyes blue eyes blue eyes blue—

It was him. She was sure of it this time, absolutely sure of it. But how could she be, after what had happened? How could she be, after what she'd nearly done?

"Welcome! Louise cheerfully called like she wasn't speaking to evil incarnate. "Take a seat anywhere. I'll be with you in a sec."

Protectiveness surged through Mila. Louise was so young, so naive, so trusting, so... kind. That bastard, that fucker, that less-than-human thing, all he was was disgusting and dark. He was a Dementor ready to suck the life out of any young girl he looked at. Mila would fuck him up before he got the chance to look in Louise's direction. No, she wouldn't let the same thing that happened to her happen to Louise. Or poor, stupid Jacob, for that matter. Not anyone. Never again.

Jacob looked up when he heard someone speak. He took his AirPods out and shoved them and his phone in the pocket of his apron.

"Wh...?" Mila mumbled, the words catching in her throat. "Your name...?"

"Sof," Louise whispered, "Have a seat, would you, hun?"

"Your name...?" Mila repeated, shaking her head. "Your name...? What...?"

"Sofía," Louise insisted, nudging Mila in the direction of her booth. "He's a customer."

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! Mila wanted to scream, but the words died on her tongue. He wasn't a customer. He wasn't even a person. He was the slime that sticks on your boots when you walk through your apartment's garbage room. He was a pile of shit rotting beneath the hot sun. He was the coyote Mila was going to rip apart with her bare hands.

"Steve...?" the guy said.

Everything snapped loose inside Mila. Her fingers curled. She imagined them wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. The air would stop circulating, his heart would stop beating. She would tear him to shreds. Nothing of him would be left when she was through with him. Something burst inside of her: that primal jackrabbit instinct to run.

Mila launched herself over the counter, bursting through the door. Louise called after her, asking if she was okay. But she didn't follow her, didn't even try to stop her.

Mila ran to her car, the earth shaking beneath her feet. She was sick to her stomach. Sweat poured from every pore. That age-old pre-vomit feeling wrapped around her, like if she stopped moving, she'd die. Her lungs stopped working. She heaved for each breath, the hyperventilating making her dizzy and lightheaded. Her breath came in short, ragged gulps. Her mind pulsed like a butterfly's wings.

She fumbled into the driver's seat of her car, uncapped a water bottle, and threw the water over her face. She needed to snap out of this. She needed to focus. She needed to be smart.

The freezing water splashed over her face. Shivering, she blinked it out of her eyes and tossed her dripping sweatshirt to the seat beside her. As she wrung the water from her hair, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Her eyeliner had already started to run. It made her look wild, unhinged.

She waited for her prey to come.