“Anyway…”she interrupts my scrutinizing. “Should we go get a manicure?” She eyes my chipped nails that have been bitten down to the stub and I mock a gasp.
“Don’t judge me! I haven’t had time?—”
She holds her hands up in innocence but rolls her eyes. “Would I be a good friend if I didn’t tell you when you were in need of a french tip?”
I shake my head, allowing myself to push Elliot back down just underneath my surface, and feel all the better for it. Olivia grins, pleased, and for a moment we sit in the charged space of the restaurant, dish ware clinking somewhere in the background, in what is no longer the silence of strangers but two women slowly unlearning the need to perform for each other. I signal for the check and when I look back she’s still watchingme, not cataloging this time, just…noticing. I wonder if she notices that I feel lighter, like I notice she does.
“Thanks.” It comes out like a whisper but I hear the genuineness of my own voice.
“Anytime.” Her smile is soft, like she knows exactly what I mean. I pull some cash out, leaving a generous tip, and loop my arm through hers again as we rise and this time, she doesn’t tense at all.
15
Sloane
It’s interesting—getting better at something. It starts slowly and then all of a sudden you can feel the confidence in your hand. It’s the way the brush feels when you're painting a certain line, when what's in your head somehow appears in front of you just like you planned it.
“Fuck,” I moan, and I wish I could say that is how oils have been. I use a spatula to scrape the thick backdrop structure, carving off the clumped paint that’s collected in the area I’ve been working on. I swipe the sweat from my neck, schlepping my hair into a french twist with a stray pencil I found on the floor, one of the few things I willingly let Evie show me how to do, if only for the sake of convenience.
Jean stalks in, pushing Gen by the shoulders and she melts down onto the floor. They both look spent, exhaustion covering their faces in small dewy droplets. “She’s dancing like shit today and needs a pep talk.”
I frown, slightly unsure if I’m the right person to give it as I stare at the now scraped clean board in front of me. I scoochaway until I’m cross legged right in front of Gen who’s fresh off rolling her eyes and now chugging from a giant lavender water bottle.
“Now I highly doubt you're dancin’ like shit. You're probably just a sliver away from incredible, if I know anything about this one’s dramatics.” I nod toward Jean, setting my hands on Gen’s knees. “You good?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and sucks in a huge breath. “I want to tell you but I’m going to look horrible,” she says quickly, like she’s been waiting to let whatever is eating her up out.
“Impossible—you could never lookhorrible,” I say, squeezing her knee for encouragement.
“Ehhhh…” Jean winces and I shoot him a look. Gen pulls her knees to her chest before burying her head in her sweatshirt clad arms. “What? I mean…itispretty bad.” He shrugs, sliding down beside us.
“Lucky for you,” I say, shooting him a glare that I hope will shut him up, “I have a knack for loving horrible people.” She glances up and I smile encouragingly.
“Grant found out I’ve been keeping a secret for Will and…now we are in a huge fight because apparently if I don’t tell the person who the secret involves I’m a terrible person.” Her voice trembles slightly at the end, exhaustion prevalent in her tone as her eyes carry a watery sheen.
“Oh Gen…” I wrap my arm around her, pulling her into my side. “If there’s one thing about my brother it’s that his moral superiority knows no bounds.” She chuckles slightly, quickly wiping her cheek to hide her emotion. “Can I ask who the secret involves?”
“Well Will…”
“Obviously,” Jean chimes in and I reach my arm out to pinch him.
“Ow,” he hisses.
“And…Olivia.”
My eyebrows shoot up as I look at Jean and he gestures as if to say it gets worse. “Okay…do you want to share the?—”
“He was dating her dead best friend Lily the summer before she died and never told her or anyone else. I only know because I was there. He’s basically hidden it from her and everyone else at Astor and?—”
“Wait, Olivia has a dead best friend?” Confusion wrinkles my forehead and Jean rolls his eyes.
“Keep up!” Jean chides. I move to pinch him again but he flinches away.
“Yes. It was the whole terrible tragedy our freshman year, and she was Will’s first love I guess because since her death he’s been justdifferent. I just…” she trails off rubbing her temples. “Telling Olivia would really blow up his life and you didn’t see him after Lily passed. It was bad.” Tears well fully in Gen’s eyes now and my heart aches for the girl. “He’s my best friend Sloane, but your brother…he doesn’t see it that way. He thinks I’m protecting him because I love him and maybe I am. I don’t know. I just—I don’t know what he’ll do if Liv finds out.” She lays her head back until she’s staring at the ceiling and I join her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.
“Gen—you’re needed stage right for Act II!” a too young voice interrupts us, her shy freckled face peeking through the cracked door. Gen squeezes her eyes shut, inhaling a long deep breath.
“You’re going to that Halloween party right? At the frat?” she asks, her eyes hopeful, and it’s clear she doesn’t want to be in this alone, that she’s drowning in secrets, a feeling I know all too well. Hell, if it was someone I loved I’d probably be keeping them, too. My mind shoots to Connie and how Grant stilldoesn’t know the real reason she’s here, and I quickly compartmentalize the thought.
