I do.
So I tell them. Not everything. Not the whole messy tangle of nerves and longing and fear clawing at my chest, but enough. HowFlyn looked when I first saw him again, like the sun had chosen him as its favorite canvas. How his laugh curled in my chest and refused to let go. How easy it was to fall into old rhythms, like no time had passed at all.
How much I wanted to reach for him. How much I still want to.
When I finish, Pink’s eyes are suspiciously shiny, and even Blue looks a little glassy-eyed, though he tries to hide it behind his usual calm.
“And you’re seeing him again tonight?” Pink asks, voice full of breathless hope.
I nod, unable to keep the stupid smile off my face. “Yeah. I am.”
“That means this evening we need to help get you ready.”
“I’m not…”
“Don’t you dare say you’re not making a big deal out of it,” he cuts in, wagging a finger at me. “Because it is a big deal. And you deserve to feel good about it.”
Blue hums in agreement. “You do.”
Their belief in me feels like a weight and a blessing all at once. I don’t know what I did to deserve them. I don’t know how to carry this fragile hope inside me without it shattering.
But I want to try.
“He’s got you smiling,” Pink observes, triumphant.
I shake my head, the corners of my mouth betraying me. “Maybe. A little.”
The truth is, it’s more than a little. The truth is, when I think of Flyn, I feel something dangerous flickering in my chest. Not like the hunger the fey taught me to cultivate. Not the siren pull of Blue’s old songs. But something quieter. Warmer. Like sunlight through a cracked windowpane.
It’s terrifying.
It’s intoxicating.
I want it.
I want him.
“You know,” Pink says, pushing to his feet and stretching in the sun, “for what it’s worth, you deserve this. We all do. But you especially. You deserve something good. Something that’s yours.”
I swallow hard against the lump rising in my throat. I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod.
Blue gives me a nod in return before sliding back into the water with a graceful splash. He moves away, leaving me with Pink, the afternoon, and my tangled thoughts.
Pink studies me a moment longer, then flashes a wicked grin. “Come on, moody boy. In the pool. It’ll clear your head.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No thinking. That’s the rule.”
Before I can protest, he lunges. Fast. Unrelenting. He grabs me around the waist and hauls me, hoodie and all, straight into the water.
I yelp, arms flailing, but it’s too late.
We crash beneath the surface, the world exploding into cold clarity. For a breathless second, everything else drops away. The uncertainty. The doubts. The weight of memory.
Just water. Sunlight rippling overhead. The muffled sound of laughter.
When I break the surface, sputtering, Pink is already grinning like he’s won some unspoken victory.
