Page 37 of Hypothetical Heart
I shrug. “I’m okay.”
“And how was last night?” She waggles her eyebrows, suggesting something happened between Winnie and me.
I smack her arm, not hard, but in a way that says,no way. “Nothing happened, Mom. I was comforting her,” I say forcefully.
She’s still smiling as she raises her hands. “Okay, okay.”
Someone else calls her away, saving me from thequestions and comments of my overbearing mother, and when I go to find Winnie, I catch the tail-end of an interesting conversation.
“Seriously, El, you can’t let this go on forever,” Genevieve whispers.
“Gen, come on,” she sighs, and the uncertainty of her voice makes me stop in my tracks.
“What are we talking about?” I join the conversation.
“Nothing,” Eloise answers too quickly.
“Eloise has a crush on Briar and needs to tell her,” Genevieve says.
“Wow.” Not what I was expecting. “Briar Hart?”
Eloise looks at me, dumbfounded. “What other Briar is there?”
Good point.“Well, are you going to tell her?”
“No,” Eloise says sternly. “Seriously, we need to drop this. She’s straight.”
“Do you know that?” Genevieve counters quickly, still trying to keep her voice down. “Or are you only assuming that?”
“I’ve been flirting with her. She never flirts back.”
Ever since Genevieve started tutoring Briar, she’s slowly been hanging around us more and more. At first, I thought it was just because Genevieve was starting to see her as a good friend, but now I think Eloise might have something to do with it.
A laugh burst out of me. “Yeah, you’re delusional.”
Eloise gives me a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
“E, she’s been hanging around you more than anyone else, and the way she looks at you does not seem platonic.” I shrug. “Just saying.”
Eloise looks conflicted, and I’m not one to stir the pot, so I step out of the conversation and head back toward Winnie.
“What was that about?” She glances from me over to Genevieve and Eloise.
I hold my hands up. “I’m not even going to get involved.”
She nods, understanding, but then her demeanor completely changes, and she leans further into me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately put on edge.
“I think everyone’s going to visit her grave.” She looks around the room, like it’s some type of crime scene. I look too, wanting to see what she’s seeing.
Everyone’s packing up. Cleary preparing to go somewhere.
“I don’t know if I want to go,” she admits, wringing her hands around one other. “I don’t think I can.”
I place a comforting hand on her shoulder, pressing my thumb right above her clavicle. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I don’t think anyone would blame you.”
Her eyes meet mine, wide and filled with so many emotions that I can barely breathe. There’s something between us in that moment—something unspoken but undeniable. She looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded, and it makes me want to be that for her, always.
