“Daphne, I can hear you breathing,” Elena said. “Are you going to talk to me?”
Daphne cleared her throat. “Hi. H-hello.”
“There she is,” Elena said.
“Here I am,” Daphne said, getting to her feet. She suddenly couldn’t stay still, couldn’t sit and talk to Elena at the same time. She walked out of the studio and into the hallway, one hand pulling at the ends of her lavender hair.
“How are you?” Elena asked.
Daphne leaned against the interior wall and faced the row of windows on the other side. The lake sparkled like a sapphire in the distance, speckled with dots of color from swimmers and boatsand sails. She wasn’t sure how to answer Elena—truthfully, at this moment, she felt as though her skin were melting off her bones. Her heart was pounding like she was in full fight-or-flight mode, and she was sweating.
But “Fine” was what came out of her mouth, because she certainly wasn’t going to share any of that with Elena.
Daphne closed her eyes, remembering the text she’d sent Elena last week. That must be why she was calling. To explain. To apologize. To say anything about April. Literally anything.
“Where are you?” Elena asked. “Still in Boston?”
“No, I’m…I’m in a town called Clover Lake for the summer.”
Elena was silent on the other end for a beat. “I see.”
Daphne wanted to ask if she knew it—because of course Elena knew it. She wanted to scream at her. Wanted to ask why, wanted to demand they stop with these pleasantries and justtalk, but Daphne couldn’t get any of that to come out of her mouth either.
“Why are you calling me?” she finally asked.
“Why did you answer?” Elena said back.
Classic Elena.
And classic Daphne to have no rebuttal.
“I was worried about you,” Elena said when Daphne said nothing. “I care about you, Daph.”
Daphne shook her head, even though Elena couldn’t see her, more a way to dislodge Elena’s words than anything else, try to keep them from soaking into her bones.
Like you cared about April?
There it was—right there on the tip of her tongue.Thequestion. But she couldn’t say it. It was clear she couldn’t say anything about anything when it came to Elena Watson. The years they spent together, all of Daphne’s firsts with Elena, had her in a chokehold, freezing up every emotion.
And she hated herself for it.
But she couldn’t seem to get out from under it.
“I’ve got to go,” she said.
“Daphne, wait, I—”
But Daphne ended the call, tapping the red button so hard, she nearly sprained her finger. She was breathing hard, her eyes immediately filling with tears. She stared at her phone for a good thirty seconds.
“As far as vehement hang-ups go, I’d give that one an eight out of ten.”
Daphne startled at the voice to her left, dropping her phone in the process. It clattered loudly onto the hardwood floor.
Sasha bent down to pick it up, flipping it around in her hand and inspecting the screen before offering it back to Daphne.
“No harm done,” she said. She was dressed in black jeans and a plain white tee, her platinum hair tall and swoopy.
“Thanks,” Daphne said, tucking her phone into her pocket.
