Pink snorts. “He’s glowing.”
“Shut up.”
“Not until you tell us who he is.”
“I didn’t say there was a he.”
“Bestie,” Pink says, sitting up straighter, his voice softening just a fraction. “You didn’t have to.”
My throat tightens. I want to deny it, make a joke, push it away like I always do, but the truth is already written all over me. I can feel it, bright and ridiculous and far too dangerous.
I went on a not-date with Flyn and then I had a bout of insanity this morning and asked him out.
“It’s nothing,” I say. My voice isn’t even convincing to my own ears.
Blue tilts his head, studying me the way only he can. Like he’s listening to something beneath the surface of the conversation, some current pulling at me from underneath. Siren senses. He can hear lies like a song.
Pink catches the look and leans forward, propping his chin on his hands. “Jade.”
“It’s not…” I start, then stop. Exhale slowly. “It’s not nothing.”
Their eyes light up like I’ve handed them a gift.
“Oh my god,” Pink breathes. “Youlikehim. Like,like,him.”
“Maybe.”
Blue smiles, slow and soft. “It’s Flyn, isn’t it?”
My heart stutters, the useless thing that it is. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Pink lets out a triumphant squeal and splashes water at me with both hands. “I knew it! I knew it was him! You’ve been mooning over him since forever.”
My face burns hotter than the sun overhead. “I have not.”
“You have,” Blue says gently. “And that’s okay.”
The words settle over me like a second skin, too fragile and too dangerous all at once. Because it’s not okay, not really. Not when I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I don’t get things like this. Not after everything.
But I want to. Goddess, I want to.
I lean back on my hands and let my head tip toward the sky, the sunlight warm against my closed eyelids. “We had dinner.”
Pink makes a delighted noise in the back of his throat. “Was it a date?”
“No,” I say, too fast. Then, quieter, “Not officially.”
Blue’s smile doesn’t waver. “But it felt like one.”
I swallow past the knot in my throat. “Yeah.”
There’s a beat of quiet, save for the soft lap of water against the pool tiles and the distant hum of summer insects. When I risk opening my eyes again, they’re both watching me, but there’s no teasing now. Just quiet understanding.
Pink pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and swings his legs around to sit cross-legged on the lounger. “Do you want to tell us about it?”
The question is gentle. A lifeline, if I want it.
