Page 113 of Chaos

And again when his hand settles on my twin’s shoulder, casually affectionate. “Go sit. I’ll finish up.”

And once more for good measure when Grace is casually affectionate right back, briefly interlocking their fingers and squeezing. “Thanks, Finn.”

I think I black out for a second. A long, unhinged second where my throat feels tight and my skin crawls and I wonder if the guy who claims to like me is thinking he should like the better version of me instead. If he’s changing his mind right this very second. If talking to Grace, if just looking at her, makes everything that’s wrong with me seem all the more clear.

I don’t recall moving outside, but that’s where I suddenly find myself, dropped into a deck chair with Grace sitting beside me, poking my shoulder incessantly. “So.”

Slowly, I blink back to reality. At my twin’s expectant look, I sigh and prepare myself for the verbal spanking I know is coming—one to rival the one I got the last time we saw each other, when I was tearing out of town like a bat out of hell and she was yelling at me to get my head out of my ass, to grow up, to stop being so fucking selfish.

Instead of repeating history, Grace jerks her head back towards the A-frame. “Spill.”

Following the motion, I stare through the windows at the group gathered in the kitchen, dishing up dinner. “Spill what?”

“Tell me about Finn, dummy. What’s going on there?”

I want to do a lot of things that are not friendly.

I shift, sinking deeper into my wooden seat. “Nothing.”

“Oh, please, Pinocchio.”

She flicks my nose and I bat her away with a huff. “I’m not lying. Nothing is going on.”

Like,nothingnothing. We haven't spoken since that night. Barely a week ago, but what feels like an eternity. He mumbles in my direction and he works in my vicinity and he makes me feelawfulbecause he’s quieter with everyone, not just me, and I feel like I’ve snuffed the light out in fucking Tinkerbell.

I won’t feel guilty. I can’t. I did the right thing, I know that in my bones. He doesn’t like me. Like I said, he’s confused. He’s too nice. He sees someone struggling, he sees a hot fucking mess, and he wants to fix it. That’s all I am. A project. A fascination, a fixation.

He does not actually like me.

He’ll figure it out soon enough.

Grace clucks her tongue. “I don't believe you.”

“Well, that’s your prerogative.”

“Lux says you spend a lot of time together.”

Spent, my silly, emotional brain laments.We don’t anymore. “We work together. We live together. That’s it. He’s single so…” I slice a hand through the air. “Have at it.”

Grace snorts, rolling her eyes. “Eliza said you went to the drive-in together.”

Oh my God.I’m committing double sororicide. “Weallwent to the drive-in. All the hands.”

“Y’know, Luna and Jackson’s first date was at a drive-in.”

I tilt my head towards the sky. “Kill me, please.”

Taking pity on me—barely—Grace reaches over to pat my thigh. “You look really good.”

“Thanks.” I pretend that I need to look at her, that I need to think about it before returning the compliment. “So do you.”

“Feeling good?”

“Uh-huh.” I look down at my lap, watching my forefinger as it picks at the nail polish on my thumb. “I, uh, get my ninety day chip this weekend.”

“I know.” Instantly, a tan, freckled hand slips around one of mine and squeezes. “That’s great, Lottie.”

“Yeah.” I shift awkwardly, clearing my throat. “And you? How’s the team?

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