Elsie doesn’t mean that hyperbolically. She really does believe that she’s always right. It would be annoying if it weren’t for the fact she’s rarely wrong.
“It’s complicated,” I tell her, leaning back on the couch and rubbing ay my temples.
“What could be complicated about falling in love with the boy you’ve been flirting with for four years straight?”
I pass her a sideways glance, and she shrugs.
“I’m just saying,” she adds. “You guys are so magnetic, it seems like fate if you ask me.”
Magnetic? Fate?
If only she knew how impossible that was.
How did I manage to fall for the one man on earth who will never love me back? What kind of sick self-sabotage is that?
“He doesn’t love me, Els.”
“Please,” she mutters, eyes rolling as she chuckles at me. “With the way he looks at you? I don’t believe that for a second. Iwishsomebody would look at me like that.”
“What do you mean? The way he looks at me?”
“You know…like he might suffocate if he stops.”
I laugh a little at that.
Thanks to that dampener of his, I think it’s quite the opposite.
“He just likes to stare like everyone else,” I sigh, unsure I even believe what I’m saying.
Apparently, Elsie doesn’t either, because her carefully-shaped brow arches, reminding me of her mother’s lethal stare.
“Oh,” she says, tilting her head. “And I suppose the fact that you’re the only girl I’ve ever seen him kiss is just a coincidence? Or that you’re the only person allowed to touch his hair? Or that you’ve been off limits at Crescent House since first-year?”
“Off limits?” I ask, frowning.
“Elliot forbade the Crescent pack from touching you first-year. That’s why none of them have ever tried anything with you. I thought you knew that.”
No, I didn’t know that. But it doesn’t change anything. Neither do his passing kisses.
“It’s complicated, Els. But I’m alright. I just wish I’d been more careful.”
She shakes her head, smirking at me.
“More careful?” she echoes. “Did you think you would go your whole life without falling in love?”
Elsie’s looking at me as if the notion is the most foolish thing she’s ever heard of. And yet, I am afraid to admit that the answer is yes. After Mom and Dad, I figured it wasn’t worth the risk.
She takes my silence as confirmation as she stands, making her way toward her room, still shaking her head.
“Well,” she says. “If love is what you’re so afraid of, then it’s too late.”
I twist in my seat, trying to look at her over the back of the sofa. She’s halfway through her bedroom door when she stops, turning to face me fully.
“You can’t escape it, Iris. You know why? Because I love you,” she says, smiling sweetly. “And Kitty loves you. And Damien loves you. And Elliotlovesyou.”
I don’t correct her this time. Hearing the words is nice, even if they are false. But her certainty does spark a different thought in my mind.
“But what if I never loved you back?” I ask. “What if I couldn’t feel it? No matter how hard I tried?”
