“Always.”
She presses her nose against my neck. Her breath is warm and her hands are on my hips and it feels perfect and gentle and safe. Even with all the other bullshit going on, there’s this little space in the universe where everything is right. Everything is made of stars.
“Will you teach me how to write songs?” I ask.
She smiles against my skin. “I’ll help you. But you already know how, Mara. You do.”
And the wild thing is, in this little sliver of time, I believe her.
“I’ll write myself a sappy love song,” I say. “And then I’ll write one for you.”
She pulls away enough to grin at me. “You’re a girl after my own heart, you know that, right?”
Her words send a sweet pulse of energy through my veins and I kiss her then, smiling against her mouth. It’s not even that sexy of a moment. We’re both sort of crying and our bones are fragile under our skin and I have no idea what sort of shape I’m in to be a girlfriend again, or even if I can be one right now, but she’s here. She loves me and I love her and it’s not some way to deny everything else. It’s a small step, but it’s the truth. It’s acceptance.
Mara McHale, Girl after Charlie Koenig’s heart
Without a doubt, that’s one type of girl I absolutely know that I am.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
WHEN CHARLIE AND I COME DOWNSTAIRS, Owen is sitting at the breakfast bar, slurping cereal. I move through the kitchen, filling up my water bottle and grabbing a couple of granola bars, but my eyes keep finding him. I take in every single part of him—?the parts I love, the parts I hate. Even these new parts of him, parts I never knew existed, that make me afraid. I can’t avoid that fear anymore.
So I look.
Eventually, he feels my eyes on him and lifts his head. His gaze is so soft, I sense Charlie squirming behind me. Because this tightrope of love and anger, compassion and hate, is awkward and precarious. Maybe it will be for a really long time.
As I walk past him toward the door, I reach out—?it’s instinct, like lifting our heads toward the sky whenever we’re together—?and let my fingers drift near his back. I reach out, but I don’t touch. Instead, I whisper goodbye and then choke on tears as we drive to school, Charlie holding my hand the entire time.
Hannah is waiting for us by the front doors. Her hair is wild and unbrushed, a mass of gorgeous waves and random little braids around her face. When I see her, I can’t help but gulp her into my arms. She laughs quietly and then pulls back to look at me, her eyes roaming up my body as I do the same to her.
We’re both wearing very short skirts. Not so short that Principal Carr could find any violation, but short enough to raise an eyebrow.
Short enough to make me feel sexy and empowered and in control of my life. It’s such a little thing, this skirt. For other girls, maybe it’s makeup or a sport or having sex or not having sex or writing or music or kicking ass in school or wearing your hair so it looks like the sun’s unruly rays. I think every girl has a thing or two, tiny details in her life that say This is me. I’m done hiding. I’m done feeling ashamed.
And maybe I’m not there yet. Maybe Hannah isn’t either. But we’re trying and we’re doing it together. We’re making it about us and not them.
“Oh my god, finally,” Hannah says, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.
“What?” I ask.
“What? Are you serious?” She flails her hands at Charlie, who’s sort of pressed against my side and whose fingers I didn’t even realize had slipped between mine again.
“Right?” Charlie says, and moves her other hand to circle my hips.
“What do you mean, ‘right’?” I ask.
Hannah rolls her eyes. “Who the hell do you think Charlie’s been lamenting to for the past month?” She clasps her hands together and flutters her lashes. “Oh, Mara. My Mara. My baby. Oh, my heart. What will I do?”
“I was not that pathetic,” Charlie says.
“You sure as hell were!”
“Well, I sure as hell never said, ‘Oh, my heart.’”
Hannah waves a hand. “Close enough. Plus you’re a Libra. A Gemini and a Libra are pretty much a match made in nauseatingly sublime heaven.”
“Well, that explains everything,” Charlie says dryly, but she’s grinning.
