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‘I don’t want anything—’ I begin, but she cuts me off.

‘No! I didn’t ask to hear what you don’t want. What do you want?’ she asks again, this time with a very serious frown creasing her brows that actually makes her look more adorable than serious.

‘I want what everyone wants.’ I shrug.

‘I’m sorry, you’re not my type.’ She shakes her head; leaves cascade like a waterfall over my face.

‘What?’

‘You can’t have me,’ she iterates.

‘What? No,’ I correct, laughing. ‘I just want to be happy. I want to be me, and I want to be happy being me.’ I sigh, throwing my hands into my lap. That was a normal answer, wasn’t it?

‘Do you?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you sure?’ Her eyes are glossy and hazy. Still they search mine with sincerity.

‘Is this a trick question?’

‘I don’t know, is it?’

‘Lavender, I think you⁠—’

‘Because if that’s what you want, why do you keep trying to make everyone else happy instead of yourself?’ I was unaware Lav could speak with such clarity, totally hammered.

Why?

Because I don’t deserve it. Because I’m already too selfish. Because making other people happy means I can be happy for them without feeling guilty. Because I’m scared if I put my own needs first I’ll hurt the people I love and I’ll be abandoned. Again.

I can’t tell her any of that. I’ll scare her away. I have a lot of feelings. They stain. They’re like leftovers from a tomato-based dish. They get on everything and fuck it all up even after the meals finished. And I’ve learnt that makes people uncomfortable. So I try my best to keep them to myself.

‘Have you cut your hair?’ I try to change the subject.

‘Yes! Thank you for noticing!’ A smile touches my lips as she twirls her hair. ‘Walker didn’t even look twice.’ She frowns down at the pinched ends she holds between twigs.

‘Well, he is male.’

‘This is true,’ she concedes.

‘They’re not exactly known for their observational skills,’ I point out, this too she agrees on.

‘Miller?’

‘Yes?’ I look up.

Her eyes are two deep pools, brimming with emotion I can’t place. Not when it’s directed at me.

‘You deserve to be happy.’

I force a smile. ‘I know that.’

‘Hm,’ she intones, sounding entirely unconvinced. ‘You looked pretty wrecked last night,’ she mumbles around a belch. It smells like oak and sap.

‘Ah.’ I shrug and take a sip of the spiked hot chocolate and hope she’ll drop the subject.

‘Seems like life is kind of taking a toll on you.’