Layla

“Water is fine. I don’t think her body can handle anything stronger than that right now.”

I refill her water and then assemble the tacos. When I place them in front of her, her eyes are practically shimmering. She picks up one of the tacos and takes a bite.

“Holy shit,” she says with a mouthful. “These are so good.” It’s funny how small differences, like the way they eat food, are so noticeable between the two of them, even though it’s the same body. “Did Layla ask why you were getting tacos to go?”

“I just told her she didn’t eat enough.” I tilt my head as I think more about Willow’s question. “You have her memories when you’re inside of her, right? Can’t you remember us being at dinner even though you weren’t there?”

Willow grabs her napkin and wipes her mouth. She takes a sip of water. “I’m sure I could, but it takes too much effort for me to do that. Her thoughts are really . . . cluttered. I try to stay out of her head when I’m inside of her.”

“How do you do that?”

Willow leans forward a little, lowering her voice as if someone might hear us. “It’s like reading a book. How you can read an entire page before you realize you didn’t process any of what you read because your thoughts were somewhere else entirely. That’s how it is being in her head. If I want to, I can focus harder and intentionally take in all the information. But I’d rather just be distracted.” She picks up her glass and downs the rest of her water. “Her head isn’t a fun place to be sometimes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Willow shrugs. “I don’t mean anything negative by it. We all have thoughts we’d never speak aloud. It’s weird being able to see those thoughts, so I’d rather not look at them. I think about other things when I’m inside of her.”

I want to ask her what some of Layla’s unspeakable thoughts are, but I don’t. I already feel like I’ve crossed one too many lines tonight with the Ambien. Not to mention the line I’m crossing right now—allowing Willow to use Layla’s body so she can eat tacos. Tacos can excuse a lot of bad decisions, but I’m not sure they’re worthy enough to excuse a possession.

“Can we go swimming?” Willow asks.

I’m caught off guard by her question. “You want to go outside? I thought you didn’t leave the house.”

“I never said that,” she says. “I said I’ve never left the property. The idea of it makes me nervous, but I’ve been wishing I could go swimming for as long as I can remember.”

I’m not sure what I expected tonight, but I certainly didn’t expect Willow to want to go swimming. But the water is heated, so why not? “Sure,” I say, amused by the turn of events. “Let’s go swimming.” She’s eaten two tacos and left one on the plate, but she pushes it away from her like she’s full. I take the plate and dump the food in the trash. “Layla has a couple of bathing suits upstairs.” I set the plate on the counter, and then Willow follows me up to the bedroom.

I open the third dresser drawer and take out a pair of swim trunks for myself. Layla brought two bathing suits, and as much as we’ve swum, she hasn’t worn either of them. “Which one do you want? Red or black?”

“I don’t care,” Willow says.

I hand her the black one. It’s not as revealing as the red one. Not that it would matter—she doesn’t have anything I haven’t seen before, or touched.

But it does matter. She’s not Layla, so it doesn’t feel like her body is something I should look at in the same way I do when Willow isn’t occupying it.

Willow changes in the bathroom while I change in the bedroom. When she walks out, she’s holding two towels. I can’t help it when my eyes wander down her body—but it’s hard not to be enthralled by the fact that it’s not her body, yet she makes it her own somehow. Her strides are longer, her shoulders set farther back when she walks. She even holds her head differently.

When my eyes meet hers, I immediately clear my throat and look away. “Ready?”

I walk out the door, down the stairs, and all the way to the pool without making eye contact with her again.

I jump into the deep end as soon as I reach the pool, needing the refreshing water to reset my focus. I stay under the water for a moment, long enough to see Willow’s feet as she dips them into the water.

Her legs dangle over the ledge in the deep end. I push myself up out of the water, and she’s sitting near the spot where I sat when I spoke to Layla for the very first time.