Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Leo-breakup-guilt creeps in again, I slump in the suite lounge and reinstall my social apps. I never last long without them. Especially when I need something to do.
Feet on the coffee table, I scroll, not really seeing. Just moving my thumb, letting the videos blur past. My brain fills in the blanks anyway—how to edit my posts, what wardrobe pieces I need, which trends are already dead. The same pointless noise.
I don’t care. I just need to not think. I double tap and scroll, double tap and scroll.
This isn’t helping.
With a sharp exhale, I lock my phone and slide it onto the table. I almost pick it back up, but then … a quiet pull. A whisper of a thought that isn’t mine. I try to lean in.
Hi.
But whispering back just cracks open the door I’m holding shut. Like my bedroom door. It had to stay closed if I needed to cry. Rules are rules.
I jerk a glance at my phone.
Sophie.
Like he’s right here. Doesn’t he know the mess is about to leak out? Doesn’t he know people leave when I need too much?
But my chest eases. Like my body knows something my mind doesn’t.
I’m sorry about Leo.
A shaky breath lets out more tension.
Give him good things, someone who appreciates him.
A thought bounces around my head. “Teach me to see you the right way.” My prayer last night. My back straightens, legs cross under me.
I’m ready. Teach me.
Rifling through the bookshelf next to me, I snag a notebook and borrow one of Kit’s erasable purple pens—she said all her stuff was up for grabs. The only child in me was disturbed, but I won’t say no.
Twirling the pen, I glance around the lounge.
It’s gotten snazzier lately. I used to have all these lantern lights and posters and things in my room, but Mia and I are rarely in there except to sleep.
Kit and I scavenged a hilarious stash of ancient posters from a thrift store before break.
My favorite is a kitten dangling from a rope, with pink script that reads “Hang in There.” As I trace the rope with my eyes, a tune pops into my head.
I grab my phone and send the song to the speaker.
“More Like Falling in Love” by Jason Gray.
That’s it.
I flip open my notebook and write L on one side of the page and A on the other.
On Leo’s side, I write,
Duty
Forgetful
Obligatory
Trying
Nice
Too safe
Bare minimum
On Austin’s side, I write,
Delight
Thrill
Laughing
Playing
Fun
Edge of my seat
Blown away
Safely dangerous
Always wanting more
Duty versus delight. If the difference between me-with-Leo and me-with-Austin is this startling, how much more should it be for me-with-my-Savior? I clutch my bracelet. Delight.
Okay, Jesus. I’m so in. Let’s make this fun.
I’ve always wanted to try hand-lettering, and this is the perfect opportunity, so I pop on and order myself a journaling Bible—spiral-bound with huge empty margins. And the pens the reviews recommend. Cool.
Next, I open my Bible app.
Where should we start? I half-think, half-pray.
Esther. Why not?
“Now in the days of Ahasuerus.” There’s a name.
Kit materializes and taps my foot like she does. “You broke up with Leo?”
I fling the notebook closed before she reads between the lines. “What?”
“Leo. I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up. You don’t want to talk about it?”
I purse my lips. Not to her.
And … the puppy-dog eyes.
My exasperated sigh escapes.
Just as I’m going to relent, her face hardens. “I’m not gonna beg,” she mutters, and continues to her room.
I stand to gape down the hall. She never used to be like this.
She’d cling tighter—apologize, roll over.
It always made me flinch. It was too much.
I’m not used to people staying when I push.
Not used to anyone wanting more from me than I know how to give.
Like Mia. She doesn’t need much. Easy peasy.
But with Kit, I hold a firm line—keep a healthy distance.
But my hand drops to my notebook.
Have I made this a Leo-style friendship?
I have. One-sided. One person does all the work. All the apologizing. All the chasing. My head jerks up. I never heard the door close. She should’ve shut it on me by now. Locked it, even. But no.
I don’t get it. I pick at my nails as Haymitch’s voice flickers through my head. Might be nice to skip to the good part.
“Kit?” I call, shifting my weight, not quite ready to walk down the hall. “Wanna go on a field trip?”
I expect her to call out a reply, but she steps—hesitantly—around the corner.
I don’t know what to do with that.
“Sure … I have a couple hours before Praise and Prayer.”
I pat my pockets, pan around for my keys. When I track the AirTag with my watch, they ding from a pair of jeans on the floor in my room.
Field trip … Groceries for the suite, maybe. Kind of lame, but the cold, dreary drizzle rules out anything outdoors. And indoor stuff gets tricky—Kit has zero money, and I hate dragging her places she can’t really enjoy. I could pay, but it makes her all twitchy.
As we push out the building doors and head for the parking lot, I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been hiding the whole Leo-Austin mess for so long. What if I just spilled it all?
Her shiny brown hair glides around her back, and her magazine-worthy hips sway as she walks. She’s beauty incarnate. It’s hard not to hate her.
Help me love her?
Her expressive eyes ask the same question as her delicate eyebrows.
She’s a Disney character come to life. It’s why we gave her the floor name Belle.
Plus, she’s all bookish and quirky. She doesn’t even try—does nothing to her hair, rarely wears makeup, never paints her nails.
She used to, but her high school friends were awful to her, and now she avoids the popularity game like the plague.
But the joke’s on her. The second she hard-launched a relationship with one of the most well-liked guys on campus, she became the accidental queen of Mayberry. Freshman queen at that.
She’s still waiting.
“I feel really bad,” I finally say. “I think I was mean to Leo.”
“Because you actually just want to be with Austin?”
My head snaps over without my consent.
She blinks innocently.
How does she know that? Does everyone? Does … he know?
Her face scrunches up. “Whoa. I’m sorry, Sophs. I should have eased into that. I’ve just been avoiding asking while you were with Leo because I didn’t want to make you defensive. So now that you’re not with him, I thought I could finally be forthright.”
“Umm.” Too high-pitched.
She bites her lip, then starts singing “Low Key” by Forrest Frank.
A shocked laugh bursts from me. I couldn’t have done that better myself.
“Maybe it’s your thing to answer with a song line? Sorry.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Again. This is not how convos go with Kit. She usually tracks me down, and I chatter away. She says like seven supportive words, zones out sometimes, and smiles a lot. Right now, we’re in some kind of role-reversal Twilight Zone episode.
I force my brain into gear. “Nope, perfect line. Just catching up over here.”
Pretty Redhead passes, looking a little too happy. The one I watched from the parking lot that first day back. Maybe she was awarded a second date.
“Just the one hangout, to my knowledge.” Kit glances over compassionately and motions to me. “Yeah, I know that too.”
I close my gaping mouth like a fish.
“You’re beautiful but compare yourself all the time and don’t value what you have. Is that why you stayed with Leo so long? Because he was so in awe of you?”
My brain goes haywire with all my secrets filling the air. “Okay, okay, Patrick Jane. No more Mentalist tricks for today. You’re freaking me out.”
After climbing into my Jeep, I heave a sigh. I love this bright yellow beauty. She’s been with me for so many adventures. My transportation to adventure, to new and different, to a better place. Maybe she can make this bizarre and tragic conversation bearable.
As I reverse out of the parking spot, I gather some words. There is one pressing question. “Is it, like, a publicly known fact that I’m”—I drop my voice needlessly—“into Austin?”
Into doesn’t begin to cover it. When he’s close, someone could hook me up to an electrical grid and power a small town with the voltage running through my body. It’s … a lot. Dancing with him last night? Even the memory sends a shock through me.
Her no is a tiny movement, but I feel it. “It’s not like that. But also, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if your friendship turned into more in an instant. There’s chemistry, you know?”
Chemistry? I mean, I’m a walking lab fire around him, but he doesn’t flirt with me any more than with other girls, does he? He’s Austin. Gorgeous and present and always smiling and teasing. He’s Austin.
“Does …” I can’t get it out. It’s too mortifying.
“I’m not sure if he knows that you like him as more than a friend,” she says carefully.
She knows something.