Finally, after dinner when we’ve all settled on the couch to watch an old episode ofMurder, She Wrote, they act. I’m not sure if they’ve discussed it beforehand or if they’re just totally in sync, but they turn on me at the same time, their expressions set.
“All right,” India says. “Come on. Spill.”
“It’s like a thundercloud is raining on the house,” Jules says with a nod. “And you are so bad at pretending to be fine.”
“I am fine,” I say automatically.
Juliet’s eyes drop to my hands, which are a bit dry from my secret cleaning spree in my room earlier.
“I’m fine,” I say again. “Work is just stressful. Come on. Let’s start the episode.”
“If you don’t tell us what’s going on,” India says, “we’re going to take another carton of eggs to Barf’s place. Then we’re going to go to Tyler’s.”
I snort at this, a moment of lightheartedness that feels good. “Oh, please?—”
But Juliet hops off the sofa and trails into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a stack of not one, not two, butthreeegg cartons.
“We’re very serious,” India says solemnly. “Felix already agreed to come along so he can be our lookout.”
My jaw drops at this, my arms wrapping tightly around my knees until I’m curled in on myself. “Are you telling the truth right now?”
“Yes,” Jules says. She sets the eggs on the TV stand and then sits on the floor in front of the couch, crossing her legs and looking up at me. “So start talking. It’s so painful, Ror.”
And I know they’re not going to stop hounding me until I give in. So I sigh.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just—” I clear my throat. “Roman asked me out.”
But instead of the reactions I expect, Juliet gives a smug smile, and India sighs. Jules holds her hand out to India.
“Pay up,” she says.
Grumbling under her breath, India pulls a few bills out of her pocket and slaps them in Juliet’s palm. “Fine,” she says.
Juliet’s smile widens, and then she turns to me. “I knew it,” she says happily. “Okay. So tell us why you’re so depressed.” She pauses, her shoulders sinking as her expression turns into something unsure. “Did he take it back? You like him, don’t you?”
I swallow. Somehow my feelings seem more complex than what I can say, but I don’t know how else to explain. “I think I kind of like him. A little bit.”
Jules squeals, clapping her hands together, but India frowns. She nudges Juliet with her foot.
“Calm down.” Then, to me, she says, “What happened, then? What’s wrong?”
The shrug I give is jerky, not at all casual like I intended. “Nothing happened. He asked me out, I said no. I’m just a little thrown off. That’s it.”
“You…said no?” Juliet’s words are slow, like she’s never before contemplated rejecting a handsome man.
“Of course I did.” I try to keep the bite of impatience out of my voice, because I know they’re just curious—and concerned. They love me. They care about me. “I don’t need another messy relationship, do I? I don’t need more—more?—”
I break off into silence, and they wait for me to finish speaking, but I don’t know what to say.
“Anyway.” Scrubbing my hand down my face, I force my voice to be more normal. “I’m fine. I’m just tired and stressed. And I think—I maybe offended him.”
“Because you said no?”
“Not exactly.” I swallow. “I think I implied some things about him that maybe weren’t true.” His closed expression flashes through my mind. “Or things that were hurtful. Something like that.”
Shame creeps on sticky feet in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t bring myself to tell my sisters the full story. They wouldnever judge me, but I don’t think they would be proud of me for how I handled things, either.
I think I need to apologize to him. I don’t even know what I would say. But I feel…sort of gross.
