23. Jules #4
We are not doing this.
I look away and blink hard. “This is stupid.”
“It is,” Remy agrees.
“Then why does it feel like…”
I stop again, harder this time.
I am definitely not finishing that sentence.
The silence stretches. Remy does not push or comment. She only waits, which is worse than anything she has said so far.
I laugh under my breath, but it wobbles. “God. I hate this.”
“You’re not good at this part.”
“Wow. Thank you. Very supportive.”
“You’re good at everything else,” she says. “This part? Not so much.”
I scrub a hand beneath my eye, careful because I can already feel my makeup betraying me.
Fantastic.
“Don’t tell anyone about this.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
A moment passes.
Then Remy says, “You wanted her to play your game.”
I blink. “What?”
“The flirting. The pushing. Whatever it is you do.”
I don’t like how accurate that sounds.
“You wanted Camille to react,” she continues. “You wanted her to lose control first so you never had to risk anything.”
I stare at her.
“Well,” she says, “now it’s your turn.”
“Ugh.” It’s all I have. “Unbelievable.”
“Accurate.”
“I hate this conversation.”
“Noted.”
I turn towards Mina’s door. “Next time I need emotional support, I’m waiting for Mina.”
“Good plan.”
My vision blurs. Oh, absolutely not.
I blink hard, but the tears are already welling, and judging by the smear beneath my eye, my eyeliner is gone. Because I am apparently having a moment.
Which is not going to work for me. I cannot cry in front of Remy. I will never live it down.
“She said it wasn’t real,” I mutter, quieter this time.
Remy does not answer immediately. Then she says, “Stop asking her to define it for you. Decide what it is to you.”
God. Mina would have been nicer about it. Way nicer.
But Remy is annoyingly not wrong, which is honestly worse.
She jerks her head toward her room. “Come on.”
I hesitate, then follow.
Five minutes later, I’m sitting on the edge of her bed while she fixes my face like emergency emotional repair via eyeliner is a completely normal thing that happens between us.
“Not super goth,” I warn.
“I know.”
“Last time you made me look like I summon things for fun.”
“You do summon things for fun.”
“But I don’t want to look like I do,“ I protest.
She hums, unimpressed, but adjusts accordingly. The silence is not awkward, exactly. Just different.
“You’re smudging,” she says.
“Yeah, I gathered.”
“Hold still.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She ignores that. Of course she does.
A knock sounds a few minutes later, and the door opens before either of us answers. Mina slips inside, her eyes widening when she sees me.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I say, like I’m not sitting here having my emotional collapse concealed with waterproof liner.
Kaia appears behind her. “Intervention?”
“Maintenance,” Remy says.
I look at her. “Wait. Did you tell them?”
“You said you wanted Mina.”
“That was before I made the deeply regrettable choice to be vulnerable in your general vicinity.”
Remy shrugs. “Then you should have specified confidentiality.”
Mina moves closer and crouches in front of me. “You okay?”
“Thriving,” I say automatically.
She gives me a look.
I sigh. “Working on it.”
Kaia leans against the wall with her arms crossed, watching us with that quiet, steady presence she does so well. “Blaire said we have the night. We can either go out or stay in. Your call.”
I glance between them. Mina, soft and worried. Remy, precise but here anyway. Kaia, steady.
My chest tightens again, but differently this time.
“We’re not doing anything that involves me thinking too much.”
“Deal,” Mina says immediately.
“Low cognitive load activities only,” Remy adds.
Kaia nods. “Approved.”
A small laugh slips out of me. “Wow. Look at me. Surrounded by support. Disgusting.”
Mina smiles.
Remy finishes my makeup and steps back to assess her work. “Functional.”
“Stunning,” Mina corrects.
I grin, just a little. “...Yeah. That works.”
For a second, everything feels a little less like it’s falling apart.
We end up staying in, which is probably for the best. Low cognitive load, like Remy said.
No crowds, press, or expectations. Just the four of us sprawled around the hotel suite like we have been a hundred times before, surrounded by takeout containers, mismatched glasses, and a bottle of something strong that Kaia definitely approved but is pretending she didn’t.
At first, it’s easy.
Too easy.
Mina is tucked against the arm of the couch with her knees pulled in, picking at fries while she chooses the music.
Kaia sits on the floor with her back against the couch, scrolling through something on her phone.
Probably Evie, because of course it is. Remy has claimed her usual chair, one leg crossed over the other and a drink in hand like she’s observing all of us for research purposes.
And me?
I’m on drink three.
Maybe four.
Who’s counting?
“Okay,” I say, pointing at Kaia. “You’ve been texting that entire time. If it’s not Evie, I’m actually offended.”
“It’s Evie,” Kaia says without looking up.
“Are you two doing okay?”
That gets her attention. She looks up, expression softening slightly. “Yeah. We’re okay.”
“Good.” I sink deeper into the couch. “I would’ve had to fight you.”
“You would lose,” Remy says.
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
I take another sip because clearly I’m being attacked.
Mina glances over, her expression soft but a little too observant. “Maybe slow down?”
“I am slow. This is me pacing myself.”
“That is not pacing,” Remy says.
“That is commitment.”
Kaia lets out a quiet laugh.
I grin, and then I don’t stop drinking because the warmth is there now. That floaty, slightly unsteady feeling makes everything less sharp around the edges.
It also apparently makes me stupid.
“So,” I say, dragging the word out, “fun fact.”
Remy’s eyes narrow. “That introduction has never led anywhere good.”
“No, no.” I wave her off. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just…” I laugh a little too loudly. “I just think it’s funny that we’re all sitting here pretending like nothing’s happening.”