The realization, the creeping terror of it, is what makes my hairs stand on end—not Zeke's closeness, and the way his breathing tickles my ear. Not the weight of his touch and the knowledge of how good it can make me feel.
That's what I lie to myself as I stagger back from him. Then, I raise my chin and force onto myself the bravery I don't feel.
"I wonder what would happen if we were to go in some other direction instead of that door," I say. "But maybe it's a clue. We would be there, still alive and unharmed. Besides, I think some pipes go there."
"The pipes go everywhere," Zeke says, dropping his hands to his sides. "I don't believe they would be a good guide anymore. We would have to explore every room, or try to. This direction is as good as any other, and it hints more insights at us."
I look at the door ahead. Our doubles aren't to be seen there anymore. I missed the moment when they disappeared and where they went.
