She turns, leaning against the window. The fairy lights cast soft shadows on the walls. “This is weird, right? What we’re doing?”
“Which part? The fake dating? The costume war? The?—”
“I kissed you,” she interrupts. “Like, really kissed you. And you...” She gestures vaguely. “God, why is this so awkward?”
“Only if we make it awkward.”
“Ethan, I literally used you to make another guy jealous and gave you a very public boner in the process. That’s textbook awkward.”
I can’t help laughing. “Okay, when you put it like that...”
She groans, sinking into my desk chair. “The worst part is, I don’t even want him. And seeing him tonight with Harper, in that stupid bedsheet toga, trying to make me feel small...” She pulls off her glasses, rubbing her eyes. “What kind of person wastes years on someone like that?”
“Hey.” I crouch in front of her chair.
“Even now… Why am I even doing all this? Just to show him that I'm doing well without him?”
“Don’t do that. We’ve all been there.”
“Have you?” She puts her glasses back on. “With Paige?”
The question surprises me. “You remember her”
“Of course. She’s the only person I’ve ever seen shake you.”
“Yeah, well.” I rock back on my heels. “Turns out I was just a placeholder until she found what she really wanted. Someone with a motorcycle and a trust fund.”
“She sounds awful.”
“She was beautiful and smart and made me feel like I was worth something until suddenly, I wasn’t.” I stand, leaning against my desk. “So yeah, I get it. The whole ‘what’s wrong with me’ spiral.”
“Did you do anything embarrassing? After?”
“I may have written some very bad poetry.”
“No.”
“Oh yes. Rhymed ‘heart’ with ‘apart’ at least seventeen times.”
She laughs, real and bright. “I practiced conversations. Whole scripts of what I’d say when Miles finally noticed me. How I’d be clever and confident and definitely not the girl who memorized his coffee order.”
“That’s not embarrassing. That’s preparation.”
“It’s stalker behavior.”
“It’s hopeful,” I correct. “And maybe a smidge stalker behavior.”
We sit in comfortable silence. The party continues below, but up here feels separate, safe.
“I don’t want to go back down,” she admits.
“So we don’t. We can hide up here, judge everyone’s costumes from the window.”
“Won’t people think we’re...” She gestures between us.
“Let them think it. Isn’t that the point?”
She stands, walking to Greg. Alfie brought him up when the party started to get too busy. “Your plant’s really thriving.”
