I pick up a sandwich and hold back a grin. Willow’s crush is not one-sided. Can’t wait to tell her that tidbit—once I’ve spilled the big secret that is.
Though... I hesitate, the sandwich halfway to my mouth.
Is sharing someone’s secret thoughts unethical? I basically just stole a page from Naomi's mental diary. If I tell Willow, I'm outing Naomi without her permission.
But if I don't, Willow stays sad.
And what about Dunc and Wills? Once they know I can hear thoughts, will they ever relax around me again? Or will they start editing themselves, terrified that I’m snooping in their brains?
Gods, I’ve never had to worry about this kind of thing before. Being a "dud" was painful, but at least it was simple.
This?
This is a moral minefield.
I'll just have to play it by ear.
My priority is keeping Willow and Duncan as my friends.
Please, Gods, don’t let this turn them away from me.
23
Ilook in the mirror, then rip off the striped tie from around my neck.
It looks far too… optimistic.
Fuck, I’m so tired. No real sleep for a week is taking its toll. The thought of going to see my father exhausts me even more.
What the fuck does he want?
I try to calm myself by carefully filing my nails.
The bliss of a shave, tooth floss (plus water pick), and facial exfoliation has lessened some of the storm inside me, but not all.
Back to the clothing selection. Meeting with father requires a suit and tie, naturally, and I’ve decided on the dark gray Tom Ford. But the tie? Yes. Plain black. Traditionally used for mourning, it seems very apropos.
“Can I borrow a hoodie?” Donovan asks, sticking his head around the door.
I point to the closet shelf in question. I’m only allowing the twins and Max to dress in my sweats. No way those idiots aredespoiling myactualwardrobe. “Are we ready to roll?” he asks, pulling the sweatshirt over his head.
“In five. I need to get my head in the right space.”
“You’ve got this, Cos. Don’t let the douche get to you.”
“Your faith in me is touching.”
He leaves me alone, and I stare at myself in the mirror. Lines are etched on either side of my mouth and around my eyes.
So fucking tired.
As I enter the main room, there’s a knock. Wes opens the door and is handed a parcel.
Good timing. “New phones for you all,” I tell them. “You’ve ten minutes to set them up before we head out.”
For once, the twins just do as I ask, plugging in the devices and tapping away at screens. “Remember when I set my new phone to Korean, and then couldn’t read the screen to reset it?” Dono asks Wes.
Wes lets out a small chuff. “Yeah. Idiot.”
