Chapter 25
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Sometimes, we can trust our pattern-recognition skills.
Morana
My stomach twists at the very sight of Talira exiting her vehicle three minutes before we’re supposed to meet at the Panera off Fifth Season Boulevard.
She looks…just like she always did, I suppose.
Light brown waves dancing around her cheeks.
Eyes bright and happy. Body slender and modelesque. An exact opposite of me
A smile pours over her face when she sees me standing at the door, and I glance toward where Kyran is parked in his ice-blue sports car, at the edge of the parking lot, by some unassuming snow-coated bushes.
“Ana!” Talira cheers, reaching me and throwing me into a hug.
I don’t move. I’ve never been much of a hugger, but…
The way I’ve hugged Kyran every single night we’ve been here comes back to me, and I remind myself I’m doing better, reaching for people, exiting the walls of my bastion. Or something.
I lift my arms and awkwardly pat her back. “Hey…Tali.” Her nickname alone feels sour in my mouth. Like it shouldn’t be there. Like it died a long, long time ago.
She pulls back, still holding me, and says, “I am so glad you stopped punishing me for that stupid thing in high school.” Tears glisten in her eyes, and she fights them, so they won’t run through her makeup. “It was so dumb.” Her voice breaks. “I’m so sorry.”
My stomach doesn’t unknot, but I lift a shoulder.
“Hey, it’s fine.” It destroyed me. “I made mistakes with men afterward, too.” I needed you.
“I’m sorry it took me this long to feel like I was ready to reach out again.
” It hurt so much more than I know how to tell you when you are… such a stranger now.
Her hand finds mine, and her waves bounce as she shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. Maybe we both just needed time to grow. I have so much to tell you.”
“I do, too.”
Excitement bubbling, she drags me inside the earthy atmosphere of Panera Bread and into the line at the front counter.
“So.” She laughs. “Oh goodness, where to begin? I got this great job. It’s remote, so I choose my own hours, which is fantastic.
And the opportunities for growth are incredible.
I’m still living with my parents, of course.
This economy, right? But my mom saw your mom at the store a while ago, and she says you moved out to Sunset? ”
“Uh. Yeah.” I try to find a smile, but it feels wrong on my face. “Mae and I applied like over a year ago or something.”
“I heard it was almost impossible to get there. Have you seen the Bachelors?” She practically swoons behind a guy ordering a bread bowl.
“They’re so hot. Oh my goodness. I’m dating this great guy right now, but I don’t know if it’s really going to work out.
He doesn’t understand how badly I was abused by…
” Her smile falters. “…well…by Walter in high school. I guess calling him great is a stretch in that regard, but I mean, he’s a guy, so perfect isn’t really accessible.
I just wish he understood when I say stop, I mean I’m about to have a panic attack, and it’s not just stop it, it’s comfort me. ”
I blink. “But…those are different things.”
“Hm?” Talira turns toward the cashier. “Oh, hold on.”
“Stop and comfort me are different things,” I say as she surveys the menu. “If you don’t mention the second one, how is he supposed to know you don’t mean stop and give me space?”
She orders, then absently says, “We’ve been together for half a year. He should know better by now, and anyway it doesn’t really matter. How did you get accepted to live in Sunset?”
Uh. I scan the menu for myself, order a cup of tomato soup. “You just apply and fill out the application, which is strenuous.”
“Right…but is there, like, a trick to it?”
“I think that Cri…” I bite my tongue. “I think that one of the Bachelor guy’s assistants cross-references supply-and-demand skills, so the more you have and the more work you’re willing to do, the better.”
“Huh.” Talira retrieves her food when it’s ready, and I get my cup of soup before we head to a table in the corner. “So listing that I have a job that’s remote doesn’t do me any favors.”
“You applied?” I ask.
“Of course, silly.” She beams. “I was hoping I could run in to you. Wouldn’t it be so fun to live together in that beautiful little town where we might stumble upon a whole celebrity at any moment?
” She sighs, dreamily. “Who knows, I might even fall in love with one. Only one of them is taken, you know? The second youngest. The artist. Lukas doesn’t really strike me as available, but…
have you seen him? In person? At all?” She swoons some more. “Wow.”
It occurs to me that none of the romantic happenings of the Bachelor brothers as of late have been particularly publicized, save the fiasco at the Creator’s Ball…with…Maelin.
“You…know who Zakery’s with?” I ask.
“A whole princess. I saw one picture months ago.”
One picture. Of Maelin. Who has…albinism.
“She was so cute. Pink and white.”
And looks exactly like me, in pink and white shades.
“She had to have dyed her hair for the occasion.”
Talira didn’t recognize my own sister? My own twin sister?
Or is she trying to get me to confess that I know the Bachelor brothers? Personally. Because they’re my brothers.
Something feels…off. Odd. Wrong.
I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but I’ve seen girl time now. I’ve seen how Clara and Maelin talk. I’ve watched Crimson and Crisis. I have felt the way they all include me and each other. It’s not like this; it doesn’t feel like this.
Cautious, I lift my soup bowl to my lips, then remember that I’m lowering my walls. Which means being less of a skeptic. More open. Kinder. Less judgy. Less…damaged.
I shouldn’t expect the worst of Talira for no real reason. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other. Who would think that someone they know is with someone famous, anyway? That’s not the kind of thing you just assume.
“So you have or haven’t met the Bachelor brothers?” Talira asks, lifting her sandwich, which just makes me think of Kyran. I should get him a sandwich when this is over.
Forcing back the hesitation, I say, “Well…it’s a small enough town. Everyone sees some of them around now and again. Mostly Viktor.”
“Gah. Viktor. He’s so broody. I would do anything to catch his eye.”
Aren’t you dating someone right now? Someone you’ve been with for half a year? Like, someone you’re actively in a non-casual relationship with? Why are you melting over the possibility of being with someone else?
Trying for open and kind, I say, “Yeah, he…acts as landlord in a lot of situations. Either he or his assistant often check in on things around town and in the residential areas, making plans or making sure that rules are being followed and enforced.”
Talira’s eyes go massive. “Wow. So. You mean if you get a leaky sink…a hot billionaire shows up to fix it?”
“Uh. No. I mean, there’s levels of management and they have all that sort of stuff delegated, not to mention that I was—am,” I cough. “I am living in a house, so my contract makes me responsible for maintenance and the like.”
“You got a whole house?” she breathes.
“Yeah, well. I moved with Mae, who was considering starting a family there, so we applied for a house to keep our options as open as possible. When you agree to handle maintenance, there’s a rent cut, which is great, because I’m pretty handy with a YouTube video and enough spite to motivate me, you know? ” I opt for a shallow laugh.
Talira has stopped smiling. “Wow. That’s…so lucky.”
I tense.
She sighs. “I wish I’d gotten that lucky. Man, if only I knew I was supposed to list more in-person work things… Do you think I could apply again?”
I know for a fact that Crisis has a system that shreds reapplications upon receipt, so she doesn’t have to deal with them. I say, “Probably.”
A thought occurs to her, and she rocks back in her chair. “Do you think I could mention how I have friends who already live there? I forget. Is there a reference section?”
“No, there’s not.”
Deep, overwhelming offense shoots through her eyes, turning them pitiful. “Do you not want me to live there?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t want me to apply again? Why would you say there’s not a reference section? That’s pretty normal to have, isn’t it? And you were so confident and fast to shoot it down, too.”
What? I was answering a question. I know there’s not a reference section for a fact, because I was bothering Crisis about it one day, asking why she let a weirdo like me in, real jokey-jokey stuff, and we got on the topic of what she prioritizes in the acceptance process, what she doesn’t care about, all of that.
And you know what she doesn’t care about at all?
Who you know.
To enter Sunset is fully on you.
You must be a kind and contributing member of society. You must fit in the does not drool over the Bachelor brothers or plan to fall in love with them over lunch category. It’s on you.
“I’ve had the opportunity to talk to someone on the team before,” I say. “There’s no reference section.”
“You know someone on the acceptance team, and you didn’t tell me? Couldn’t you put in a good word for me directly?”
“That’s…” Not how this works. But, for some reason, I’m not sure that saying so will be helpful right now.
This is going rather poorly, isn’t it?
She hasn’t even asked me about how I’m doing yet.
How long have we been here?
I’m married, for crying out loud, but all she’s asked about “me” is in relation to Sunset, in the context of how do I help her get in the beautiful, perfect little town I “lucked” into.
I think…
I think I wasn’t being harsh.
I think, maybe, I wasn’t being mean.