Chapter Thirteen
Man logic is wildly entertaining.
Jove
Lyra is a miracle worker.
It’s been three days since I’ve seen her, and I’ve written more words in those three days than I did all last month. I’ve never felt this inspired. Ever . She’s a miracle worker and a wonder drug, and I. Need. More.
“Give me my letter,” I demand, stepping up to the counter at the post office.
Brianna’s right eyebrow rises above her glasses, and she puffs a bit of hair out of her face. “Sorry, what was the name?”
“I’m in a good mood, Bri. Don’t ruin it.”
Her other eyebrow moves, meeting its sister. “A good mood?”
“And steadily decreasing,” I reply. “My letter?”
“Where did you find a good mood?” she asks, decidedly not retrieving my mail. “And can it be recreated?”
If she ruins my Lyra high, I’m setting this entire building ablaze.
“Brianna,” I snap. “Get. Me. My. Letter.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll ask Mars about it instead,” she mutters before wandering into the back room. She returns minutes later with my letter – and a couple hundred other, much less important ones.
“I just want the one from Lyra,” I tell her. “That other stuff can stay here until next time.” Or forever. I’m not picky.
“I’m under strict orders to make you take everything, and you know it,” she retorts.
I scowl. “Mars doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ll get them next time.”
She snorts. “If I let you get away with leaving them this time, you’ll try to get away with leaving them in the future too.
No, sir. No, thank you. I’m not getting stuck with your mail hanging around, and I’m definitely not getting stuck with a cross Mars when he finds out I didn’t listen to his directives.
You can have them all or you can have none. What’s it going to be?”
I hate her.
“Mars needs better friends,” I reply.
“Uh huh,” she says. “Because a friend that does what he asks of her is a bad one indeed. Totally.” Her head shakes. “Sign the screen, bozo.”
I do, eye twitching, and the counter trembles as she hefts the box of mail onto it with a thud .
“Thanks for doing business with us!” she chirps. “Have a good day!”
“I was having a good day,” I grumble, snatching the box and exiting the building. Brianna’s giggles follow me out.
I sigh as I settle into my truck in front of the post office, grabbing Lyra’s letter from the top of the stack. I can’t help but smile as I take in the dainty lines that make up my name.
Jupiter Rogue.
Even as she adjusts to me being Jove, it’s good to see that I am still Jupiter to her, if only in our letters.
Not bothering to wait until I get home, I flip the envelope and carefully peel the flap on the back, being extra gentle so as not to rip the otter sticker she put over the seam.
An ocean theme? Or… no, I see. River. River otters, beavers, and frogs decorate the hunk of cardstock inside the envelope, showing themselves proudly as I unveil each inch of letter.
One frog has a thought bubble depicting the completely ridiculous statement that Friends don’t hold friends hostage .
What utter nonsense.
My jaw relaxes as I flip open the letter, teeth unclenching and brows unfurrowing. Tension bleeds from me, seeping into the seats of my truck and below, losing itself in the earth, far from me – far from the beauty that is a Lyra letter.
The more I unfold, the more peace invades, until I’m almost as content as I was several nights ago lying in Lyra’s bed carving butterflies into her bed posts while she spent hours making this for me before unceremoniously booting me from her bed, room, and then, finally, house.
Hostage or not, she spared no expense, putting just as much care into her creation for me as she ever has. River rock shaped pockets hold sticker gifts. A series of paper water rings held together by a brad closure twist, constructing an interactive ripple for me to play with.
A catfish holds an intricately folded bit of paper labeled Worms Words for you in its mouth. I chuckle and fish it out, making a mental note of how it unfolds so that I might be able to recreate it to put it back.
Then, I read.
Dear Jupiter ,
I can’t believe you’re in my house. I can’t believe you’re a boy. I can’t believe you’re carving who knows what into my bed, as if that is at all sane or legal.
You can’t just show up at someone’s house and demand they write you a letter, you know? That’s not cool behavior.
I mean, okay, one could argue that my behavior hasn’t been exactly cool either. I definitely should have written you back sooner. Communication, like you said. From your end, I can see how this would’ve been concerning. But still.
You’re you , you know? Jove Rogue, town scary and a definite member of the male sex. Not Jupiter, my hilarious, thoughtful, sweet girl best friend.
We’ve been writing to each other for so long that to find out now that you’re a man?
It feels like my whole life has been a lie.
Everything I’ve ever known is suddenly so different, with different layers and subtext and connotations.
So much of what I’ve told you I never ever ever would have if I had known you were you.
You get that, right? Clearly you’ve known who I am, but if you hadn’t? I don’t think you would have taken this kind of reveal well at all. It’s upending. It’s earth shattering. It’s a wowIdon’twanttodealwiththisrightnowsoIwon’t type of reveal.
I know you want communication, but… to be fully honest, I’m not sure what to say to you anymore. It feels different. You feel different.
I don’t know if this is ever going to work again. I can’t promise you that it will, all things considered. If it doesn’t… if this is my last letter to you…
Well, Jupiter really was a good friend to me, and I will always always treasure that.
Seriously, don’t accost women in their houses,
Lyra
P.S. I’ll expect a check for a new bed frame, Mr. Rich.
Hm. I don’t much like the sound of that.
Except for that bit about me giving her money.
I will gladly give her as much money as she likes.
Everything else though? Not at all conducive to my plans for more Lyra high.
She appears to be under the delusion that we won’t be speaking again – via letter or otherwise.
What a silly, silly girl.
I need her.
And, frankly, she needs me.
Lyra’s a romantic at heart. Soft and sweet and so willing to see the good in people that it gets her walked on, over and over again.
In her bones, she wants to believe that there is beauty in this world and in every inhabitant of it.
She isn’t weak for it, though. In many ways it makes her stronger than I could ever imagine being, but it does open her up to certain hurts and disappointments that someone more cynical could avoid .
Not to mention, as beautiful and wonderful as Lyra is, she never seems to understand it – to get that she is deserving of every single good thing the world has to offer.
I wouldn’t argue that I’m a good thing, but my friendship?
That’s golden. Lyra should have someone who would crime for her. Someone who would kill for her.
That’s me.
And I’ll be flagged if she’s going to get rid of me.
So I guess I’ll just have to find a way to convince her not to.
Setting the letter aside, I lean back and ponder. Convincing Lyra to do something she doesn’t want to do? Normally not a difficult task. Doing it in a way that doesn’t feel manipulative, bulldozing, or just plain mean? Peak difficulty. I want her to feel loved and cared for, not harassed.
So where’s the balance? How do I spend time with her, encourage her, shield her, and receive the goodness that is just being near her without breaking her?
I frown at my windshield, eyes absently following Brianna’s boyfriend, Malor, as he approaches the post office, presumably to pick his girlfriend up for her lunch break.
As he disappears inside the building, my head tilts, then it tilts the other way when he reappears with Brianna, arm thrown over her shoulder.
She laughs at something he says, more joyous than she’s ever been in my presence, and he smiles down at her, a man enthralled.
Ah.
I lean forward, observing them as he holds a car door for her, waiting until she’s safely inside the vehicle before shutting it. He whistles as he rounds the car, spinning his keys on his finger. A man thoroughly enthralled .
Aha, aha.
I’m so stupid. It’s glaringly obvious.
The fastest way to get inspired by my adorably romantic bestie while protecting her from every bad thing this world has to offer?
I date her, of course.