“Yeah.”
Her usually soft voice wilts, and I feel guilty for shaming her for her constant disappearing act as she takes a seat beside me.
“Is everything alright?” she asks, probing gently. “You seemed a little on edge last night. I saw Elliot dock that wolf, was he?—”
“It’s not Elliot,” I say, before she can think to blame him.
She nods, but doesn’t say anything more. Elsie’s not one to pry. If I tell her ‘I’m fine,’ I know she’ll leave me be. But as I look at her round face, pinched tight with worry, ‘I’m fine’ is not what comes out when I open my mouth.
What comes out instead is an endless stream of worries, built up over the last three months, one after the other, like an involuntary confession. I tell her about Grey, I tell her about my new “friend,” I even tell her about Elliot and the funny feeling I get when I think about him. Like magic swirling in my stomach or the way your heart stops for a second when a rollercoaster drops.
I tell her everything. It spills out of me in one massive breath while Elsie sits patiently, frown growing deeper and deeper until, at last, I manage to stuff my tongue back in and come up for air.
It takes her a moment to process all that I’ve said, and the living room is quiet as we stare at each other. But eventually the pieces slot together, and she stands, resting her hands on her hips, glaring at me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks.
“I know,” I sigh. “It’s a lot, and I know you’ve got something going on that you don’t want to tell me about, orcan’ttell me about, but I needed to?—”
She cuts me off.
“I’ve been winking in and out of here like a ghost all term, and someone’s been blackmailing you forthreemonths? And you’re just now telling me about it?”
Her hands flail, and she looks around the room in awe before reassuming her stance.
“I knew you were acting weird!” she says, eyes narrowed. “I just thought it was Elliot hogging you. I figured you needed time to yourselves, but…” she stops her rambling, straightening abruptly. “Wait. You’re in love with Elliot?”
“Did I say that? I don’t think I said that.”
I hope I didn’t say that.
“No,” Elsie interrupts my panic. “But I’m not stupid. I can read between the lines. You love him.”
“No, I just…he’s…”
My words fail me as I recall Elliot’s tender embrace. The heat of his kiss and the hum of his heart beneath my fingers. I can still feel his power pooling inside of me, sating my need, warming every inch of me from the inside out. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in quite some time. Possibly ever.
Denying it feels like doing him a disservice. But what difference would it make to speak the truth aloud? Last night changed nothing. Not for him anyway.
“Oh my gods…” Elsie’s eyes turn down, and she returns to the seat beside me. “You do, don’t you?”
“No, Els. I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
I cringe.
“Can you stop saying that?” I request. “It’s making my head hurt.”
“Why?” she asks, bouncing in her seat. “It’s exciting.”
My eyes roll as I press a thumb to my forehead.
“You sound like Kitty,” I say.
“Yeah, because Kitty’s right, and I’m always right.”
She nudges me, and I can’t help the smile on my face.
