Page 54 of Claimed By the Mothman
She was not going to cry. Not here. Not in Jem’s very fancy bathroom where the walls were probablyliterallylistening.
The door creaked. “It’s me,” came Goldie’s voice. “Don’t throw anything at me, please.”
Nell didn’t answer. Goldie slipped inside and shut the door behind her.
“Well,” she said lightly, “that’s going about as well as I expected.”
Nell let out a ragged breath. “I’m going to kill Jem. And thenyou.This is a nightmare.”
“It is aromanticnightmare,” Goldie corrected. “Very different. Much more cinematic.”
“I can’t do this,” Nell breathed.
Goldie threw her arms around her friend, leaning her chin on Nell’s unbitten shoulder. “Yes, you can,” she says, looking into Nell’s eyes in the mirror, her brown to Nell’s green.
Horrifyingly, Nell felt tears start to well in her eyes. “I want to be furious,” she whispered. “Iamfurious. He keeps looking at me with this…I don’t know, withsuch intent, and I hate it but also I think…”
“Deep breath,” Goldie said, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You just have to survive dessert. Then you can scream into a pillow, write angry poetry, whatever helps. Now, dry your eyes before your mascara runs.”
Nell exhaled. Nodded once. They returned to the table together.
—
The dessert plates were barely cleared when Jem clapped her hands and declared, “Aperitifs in the living room! And Iinsistwe play charades.”
Goldie made a soft sound of alarm and lowered her wine glass. “Oh no.”
Ezra leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Ohyes.”
Jem was already bustling into the next room, pulling out a basket of folded prompts and directing Dev to light the fireplace. Hollis followed with the air of a man resigned to his fate.
Nell stood, intending to make her exit. Her scarf was still in place. Her lipstick had survived. She could still salvage her dignity if she left now.
“Justoneround,” Jem pleaded, rounding and catching Nell’s gaze with the intensity of someone who’d cursed crops for less. “Come on! Teams of four!Please!”
“Eight people,” Ezra said gleefully. “Perfect. We’ll do battle for honor.”
With the solemnity of a condemned woman accepting her fate, Nell downed her glass of wine in one long, steady pull.
Goldie latched onto her arm. ““You cannot abandon me to charades. RememberThe Glass Menagerie? Sophomore year? I mimed a nervous breakdown for three minutes before Mr. Allen stopped me. I need a partner who speaks fluent panic. Please.”
“I hate you,” Nell muttered.
“You love me.”
By the time they drifted into the living room, someone had already shoved the coffee table aside and rearranged the furniture into an impromptu stage-audience setup. A throw blanket had been crumpled into what might have been a boundary line, and a bowl of paper slips sat in the middle like a summoning circle.
“Team One,” Jem declared, sweeping her arm with all the showmanship of a carnival barker. “Ezra, Goldie, Sig, and Nell!”
Nell shot Goldie a look of pure betrayal, but her friend only clung tighter to her elbow.
“Team Two!” Jem continued. “Myself, Hollis, Carol, and Dev!”
Ezra was already stretching, which was somehow the most threatening thing Nell had seen all night. He’d pulled his curls into a messy topknot and was doing calf raises like he was prepping for the Olympic Trials.
Jem leaned toward Goldie and stage-whispered, “Ezra plays to win. Prepare yourself emotionally.”
Goldie groaned. “Gods help us.”
