Page 49 of Two Kinds of Us

“If you’re a weirdo, I’m a weirdo,” he said with a slight laugh. “So, do you want me to call you Destelle?” Not a trace of hesitancy or awkwardness clung to his voice—he just looked at me as if he genuinely wanted to know which I would prefer. “Or Stella?”

It would make sense to call me Stella only when I wore the wig. However, something about the way he said that name—Stella—made my chest feel light. The feeling I had whenever I wore the wig.

And even though I wasn’t wearing the wig now, that feeling still bubbled up inside me.

“Whichever rolls off the tongue, I guess.”

When Harry looked at me like this, with eyes holding an infinite amount of gentleness, I felt seen. As if he saw into the depths of my soul and he liked what he found. More yet, I felt like I could see into the bottom ofhissoul, and I loved it. Yes, Harry had an edgy rock band exterior, but the kindness and gentleness inside his being creating the perfect match.

Harry swiped up his paint roller again, holding it like a sword, his smile like like a ray of sunshine. “Are you going to talk to me this time, or make me suffer in awkward silence?”

“I think I can hold a conversation,” I said, shyness creeping into my voice. It was strange how different it felt to be around him. Not in a bad way, but in a way I had to get used to.

However, a weight fell off me, and I didn’t realize how crushing it had been until it finally, finally rolled away.

Harry hadn’t pulled back. He hadn’t pushed me away. He’d embraced it—me—without even flinching. I could’ve kissed him.

We started work once more on the small room. Our conversation kept us company this time rather than the low tunes. Now that the awkward barrier had disappeared, it was fun to talk about the music. I recognized most of the songs, and I laughed every time he lunged for his phone, knowing there were curse words riddled in the lyrics and not wanting Pastor Liam to overhear.

Despite the rocky beginning, I was so, so glad Mom signed me up for this.

It took us about an hour to work through the small space, especially since Harry had a head start before I arrived. I watched as he went to apply one last coat along the baseboard.

“So, the other day,” I said, slipping my paint-stained hands into my pockets without a care. “At the ice cream parlor. I didn’t kiss you because you didn’t know about Destelle,” I said quickly, before losing nerve. “Or, know about me. Or…us?”Cringe. “If you’d have known, I—well, I would’ve kissed you back. Probably.”

Harry looked up at me while his roller paused, blue eyes widening in surprise and something else. He opened his mouth to say something, but a voice cut in.

“How’s it coming in here?” Pastor Liam came through the doorway and immediately folded his arms, regarding our work. “Whew. That didn’t take long at all.”

I snatched Harry’s cell phone and halted the music. “We made pretty good time.”

“It’s nice to see progress come along like this, huh? Just think of how the church will look when everything’s done.” Pastor Liam glanced around the room. “You can leave the brushes; I’ll clean those up. Thank you two for all your help today. I’ll mark down the time.” Pastor Liam’s eyes lingered on Harry.

And Harry flashed him a smile in response, standing and setting the paintbrush beside the others. “Thanks, Pastor L.”

I shrugged off the sheet, careful not to get any paint on my school clothes. He saw me as Stella all this time; the fact that I was wearing a schoolgirl outfit and he saw me in it was a little mortifying.

Once we reached the back exit, Harry took a step forward and grabbed the handle of the door, but didn’t tug it open. Instead, he turned to me, expression suddenly serious. “I want to hear everything about you. About Stella, about Destelle, and everything in between. Is there a third alter ego I should know about?”

Standing next to him in my pastel pink jacket, we couldn’t have looked more different. With his ripped jeans and combat boots and tattoo, he looked edgy, hard-core. My parents would’ve rather died than see me with someone like him. But Jonathan had been right Saturday night when he said that the “different worlds” stuff was silly. Because I felt right standing beside him like this, as Destelle, not Stella. “Just two.”

“Well, I can’t wait to learn more about them.”

The words were perfect. No judgment or derision, no sarcasm or irony. His words were genuine, as was the look in his eyes. It wasn’t like Margot, who rolled her eyes and went along with me. It wasn’t like Jonathan, who thought I was weird, but didn’t poke fun.

And maybe becausehesaid it, that made it five million times better.

I stepped closer, into his bubble of space, and his own hand fell from the door handle. He leaned in, causing my eyes to flutter shut.

“Are you two seriously about to kiss in achurch?” Margot demanded loudly, climbing the stairs with her own coat on. She looked both of us over, that devious smirk back in her eye. “Sounds like a sin if you ask me.”

Harry pulled the back door open then, letting the last traces of February air into the building, immediately cooling me down. “Would’ve been worth it,” he said, gaze catching mine as I walked past him.

“Now, see?” Margot nudged my shoulder. “Coming clean wasn’t so hard, huh?”

She was wrong—itwashard. And terrifying. But the burst of freedom that hit me made me realize howgoodit felt to embrace Stella more instead of forcing her to be a weekends-only kind of façade. I could integrate her into Destelle.

As I looked up at Harry, with his soft freckled cheeks and relaxed expression, I knew he’d had a hand in that. His acceptance of it all was something I would never take for granted.

I held his gaze as I answered Margot’s question, nearly grinning ear to ear. “It was so worth it.”

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