Page 55 of The Lovers
I didn’t want that then, either.
“You’re straight,” she says, when my floundering for words doesn’t end. “Last I checked, that hasn’t changed.”
“There’s a difference between beingstraightand beingout.” I drop her wrist as my temper flares. “I’m not straight—clearly.” I feel my cheeks warm.
“No shit,” she says, her voice still hard, but her gaze has softened. “But I’m not interested in being with a woman who can’t even hold my hand in public.” Her jaw does that scary hard clench thing again. “Been there, done that, never want to do it again.”
She whirls around, but we can’t run away this time.Neither of us.I follow, my brain spinning out with all the things I want to say. All these wild feelings, all these words I never got to speak, everything she’s assuming about me that isn’t true, plus all the things she’s getting right.
She’s twisting the key to Homebase in the lock when I say, “I pulled the cards again, on the way up here.”
She stops. “What do you mean?”
“The Two of Cups and the Wheel of Fortune. Tell me you remember those cards.” She swallows, not making eye contact as Ispeak. I push forward. “Madame Moira, that weird neighborhood psychic from the Haunt O’ Ween in Old Pas—the dare—”
“Of course I remember,” she whispers. “She said we were Twin Flames.” The words, her voice, my heart, skips. “Like, what a weird thing to say to two preteen girls.”
The air between us is heavy, thick with heat that can’t be attributed to the desert.
“She said we’d always find our way back to each other, and we did,” I say.
Her eyes trip up to mine, shiny and bright with unshed tears. “Kit, you broke my heart.”
“I know.” Her eyes search my face, hopeful and hurt. “I’m so sorry, Julia. I should have tried to explain what I was feeling. I should have sat down with you, face-to-face. I should’ve done literally anything more than I did.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she replies. “Do you know how long it took me to try again with a girl?”
“Not as long as me,” I say. She leans against the doorframe, understanding etching its way through her features.
“I didn’t want to have to find my way back to you. I wanted you to stay with me.” Tears prick from the corners of her eyes, trailing down her cheek. I want to kiss them away. To taste the salt on her skin, the bitterness, and turn it sweet.
“I wanted that, too.”
“But you bailed. You didn’t want your parents to know. You didn’t want to talk about what happened, you acted weird and dismissive, so how was I supposed to feel?” Her voice cracks with emotion.
“I was fucking terrified, okay? I didn’t think there was a way to be rom-com dream girl if I ended up withanother girl. All Iknew of girls falling in love with girls was like the OGL Wordand some male-gazey porn.” She can’t hold in a laugh, but does try to cover it up with a grunt. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to be if I wasn’t some guy’s whole world, like my mom was my dad’s. The perfect manic pixie dream girl with the glorious happy ending.”
“You could have told me—we could have talked about it. At the very fucking least I could have helped you find better comp titles.” She almost smiles, but she still looks sad. “I was your best friend.”
It feels like a punch to my gut to hear her say that, to know how right she is. I was the idiot, thetoolin the rom-com, who ran away from their true love in the third act.
I just hope it’s not too late for me to win her back.
“I was afraid it wouldn’t matter,” I say, my own voice wobbly, tears threatening. “If you had to wait, for who knows how long, I was afraid I’d lose you anyway and it would hurt a lot more the longer it took, the further in love we fell.” The wordlovecauses a little explosion of emotion in her features.
“So you ghosted me instead?” Her nostrils flare.
“I wanted you, us, but I also wanted the Ideal Rom-Com Life Path I’d always imagined. I didn’t think I could have both. So I picked the one I had a framework for.” My voice shakes. Saying it out loud is a weight off my heart, but somehow it hurts more, not less.
“You know that’s outdated as hell, right?” She almost smirks.
I exhale a laugh but it’s hollow. “Is it? Look around you, heteronormative ideals are alive and thriving.”
“Even in this economy.” The tremor of a smile. My walls, andhers, crumbling. I feel tears on my cheeks, hot and fresh, and I don’t even bother wiping them away. “You really picked poorly.” She grins through watery eyes.
“I’d like to try again,” I say, locking eyes with her. I take a tentative step closer and she doesn’t retreat. “Julia.”
“Kit.” She nearly growls my name. I want her to scream it.
