“Spill.”
I fold in on myself, perching on the edge of the crate. “It’s just… He’s still looking for her. Me. Whatever.” I make a vague gesture, as if that explains the entire cosmology of my problem.
Sara’s expression doesn’t change. “And this bothers you because?”
I pick at the tape on the crate, unspooling a loose end. “Because it’s not going away. Hunter keeps texting me every time Aaron posts something new. It’s like—” I can’t find the word. “—like the more I try to ignore it, the more it gets under my skin. I can’t even study without thinking about it.”
Sara leans against the workbench, arms folded. “So, you’re worried he’ll find out it was you?”
My mouth goes dry. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” I squeeze the tape and feel the glue go tacky on my fingers. “He’s got everyone talking. People keep tagging me in group chats like I was even at the party as myself.”
She tilts her head. “But you were there as… her.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I snap. “It was a joke. A dare. I didn’t mean to—” I trail off, the words congealing in my throat. I don’t have a good finish, just the memory of that closet, the heat of Aaron’s hands, the way my knees almost buckled. “It wasn’t supposed to matter.”
Sara is quiet for a minute, just the sound of her brush swirling in the solvent. “You know, you’re not just worried about being found out.”
My shoulders stiffen. “Am I that transparent?”
She shrugs. “Only to me. But you’re acting like a guy who’s been hexed.”
I want to argue, but I know she’s right. My face flushes, a slow crawl of heat up my neck and into my ears.
Sara sets the mug down and walks over, close enough that I can smell the coffee on her breath and the faint hint of shampoo that never quite washes out the paint. “You like him.”
I say nothing.
She nudges my foot with hers, a gentle prod. “You do. Your whole vibe changes when you talk about him. You go from Spence the human science robot to, like, Spence the disaster human.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, but even to me it sounds weak.
She gives me a long look, eyes steady. “It’s okay to like him, you know. Even if you think he’s an asshole.”
I sputter. “I don’t think he’s an asshole.”
Sara raises both eyebrows. “Last time you were here, you said he was a ‘walking defense mechanism with a protein shake addiction and the emotional range of a Keurig machine.’”
I wince. “I may have been exaggerating for effect.”
She smiles, but it’s soft. “You’re allowed to want things, Spence. You don’t have to explain them away.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “This is a disaster.”
Sara sits on the crate next to mine, our knees almost touching. “It’s only a disaster if you keep lying to yourself. Or if you let Hunter run out of memes.”
I snort, and for a second, the tension breaks. “He’s going to get so bored once this blows over.”
Sara shakes her head. “Not likely. The legend of Jessica Rabbit is only getting bigger.” She says it gently, but I can feel the warning.
I look at her, really look. I want to ask her what she would do. She’s always known who she is, even when the rest of the world didn’t. She never hides, never hedges, just walks into every room like she was born to own it.
I envy that.
“Should I tell him?” I ask, the words barely audible.
Sara is silent for a moment. She picks at a fleck of paint on her jeans, then meets my eyes. “That depends. Do you want him to know?”
I shake my head, then nod, then shake it again. “No. Yes. Maybe. I just don’t want it to get worse.”
