Chapter 17
“Oh, hi,” Amelia said, clearly shocked to see Bryn about to step outside.
“I was just going up to the castle to—” Bryn held up her hand. “Leave you a note. I guess you’ve saved me the trouble.”
“Oh, good,” Amelia said. They stood there awkwardly.
“Sorry, this is on me. I had an all-day thing, and I kept meaning to text you, and then I would compose a text, and it would seem so long and like I was mad about last night, which I’m totally not, and then I just didn’t— I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so I didn’t say anything, and saying nothing is almost always the wrong thing in this kind of situation, and I apologize. ”
Apparently, Bryn wasn’t the only one overthinking everything. The fact was obscurely comforting. “I saw Piper earlier,” Bryn said. “They told me a little bit about how your day must have been. I had no idea.”
“No, I know. I’m sorry. I meant to tell you about it, but then we kind of— Well, we did more interesting things instead. And at that point, I really didn’t want to spoil it by saying, ‘By the way, I have to spend all of tomorrow with seven old husks who think I’m worthless.’”
Bryn realized that as much as she wanted a repeat of last night, if Amelia was willing, Amelia probably needed something different right now. She stepped back and waved her arm. “Please come inside. I did procure some food from the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished, but also not. Like, I’m not even sure I could eat right now. It was really stressful.”
“I can only imagine, and even then, probably not. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Only if you have the capacity to hear me whine. I try not to. I am obviously so grateful for all of the opportunities that have come my way. But I will say, it’s a lot of work.
” Amelia grimaced in apparent annoyance.
“I don’t mean being headmistress, which of course is a lot of work, but Professor Herringbone prepared me for that part.
What she didn’t know she needed to prepare me for was what would happen once she was no longer here, and I was trying to be the headmistress without her …
” She trailed off, searching for a word.
“Backup?” Bryn suggested.
“Backup is actually exactly it. That’s what it feels like.”
They spoke for a while—or Amelia spoke, and Bryn listened.
She thought that as much as she respected and admired Amelia in Headmistress Mode, she could listen to the real Amelia—more vulnerable, more forthright—talk forever.
She laid out a thin blanket over the rug, and set out some of the food, all easy stuff that didn’t require much in the way of dishes.
Amelia began by picking at things, but then, as her story gained momentum and, Bryn suspected, as she stopped thinking so hard because she was processing out loud, it seemed easier for her to eat.
Bryn made sure to keep the water glasses topped up, and the apples and cheese sliced.
Amelia liked making cheese and crackers and fruits into these cute little sandwiches that crumpled the second she bit into them.
It would have driven Bryn bonkers, but Amelia seemed to enjoy the assembly ritual and patiently picked up the crumbs as they fell.
“I’m sorry,” she said eventually, sitting back with a satisfied pat to her stomach. “Apparently, I did need to eat.”
“The caloric expenditure of that type of anxiety is probably pretty wild,” Bryn said.
“I’m sure it must be. I felt like I was sweating gallons and gallons. They wanted to see everything.” Amelia paused thoughtfully. “To be honest, I suspect all of them were using some kind of buoying spells. Some of them are in their eighties and they never flagged.”
“Potions?” Bryn suggested.
Amelia grinned. “Maybe that’s what accounts for Mr Wicks always having the energy to pursue rule-breakers in the corridors.”
Bryn smiled as well. “‘You, there! Absolutely no running in the castle!’”
“‘This is a safety issue, young lady!’” Amelia quoted, though she didn’t seem mad about it. She picked up the second-to-last apple slice and ate it.
“Are you okay, though?” Bryn asked. “Today sounds really awful.”
“It was. I mean, I don’t want to mince words. It was really hard. And at the end of it—and I think this is the worst part—it feels as though, if possible, they like me even less. For the job, not my sparkling personality.”
“Cheers to your sparkling personality, though,” Bryn said, and lifted her glass.
With a slightly softened expression, Amelia clinked hers against it and took a sip. “Thank you. I really will stop complaining soon, I swear. It’s just that every time the governors meet, I’m expecting them to fire me with their next proclamation.”
Bryn nodded. “Piper said they thought the same today, like the governors might just decide to chop the whole program.”
“They can’t without my agreement, technically, though I completely sympathize with the sentiment. How was Piper? The governors visited all the other classrooms during normal school hours, but wanted a special look at the new department.”
“They were fine, I think. Worried about you, stuck with the governors all day.”
“Boy, was I. But not now.” Amelia stretched back, propping herself up with her hands.
“I’m sorry I left in the middle of the night.
I shouldn’t have. Then I didn’t want to go poking through your stuff to find paper and a pen, and I didn’t want to wake you.
” She offered a rueful headshake. “Though, I admit, I made more noise than I needed to while getting ready, just in case you woke up spontaneously, and I could give you a proper kiss goodbye.”
Bryn, who had resigned herself—and had felt somewhat relieved—to avoid this conversation tonight, now straightened up. “Oh, um, well, you left a heart. So, I saw that. I can’t believe I slept through you leaving. I didn’t know I was that deep a sleeper.”
“To be fair to you,” Amelia said mischievously, “you did work out quite hard.”
Bryn laughed. “No regrets on that front.” She steeled herself. “But I wanted to tell you, I don’t have any demands. This can totally be a one-off. It was great, but, you know, I don’t want things to be weird between us, and I completely understand if you’re not interested.”
“Oh.” Amelia blinked. “Do you mean you’re not interested? Because that’s also completely okay. I also would understand if you wanted it to be a one-off. I know you’re not here that long.”
For a moment they stared at each other in mutual bewilderment, playing emotional chicken. Someone was going to have to take the risk. Or—and part of Bryn’s mind was attracted to this idea— no one took a risk, and they left it at that. One-off, done and dusted.
Then she remembered the sensation of snuggling up under her duvet, the heat and tiredness and scent of Amelia in the air …
Both of them started speaking simultaneously. Bryn said, “I,” and Amelia said, “We.” And then they stopped again, and laughed a little bit weakly.
“You first,” Amelia said.
“Oh, okay.” Bryn had planned a lot of different things to say, none of which sprung to mind, nor seemed to fit the context of this specific scenario.
“Well, maybe it’s just a fling, you know, but I could do it longer than one night, if you wanted to.
I am only here temporarily, but not that temporarily. ”
“A fling,” Amelia said slowly. “Okay, and what does that look like?”
Bryn, somewhat desperately, searched her face for some hint of how she felt, but damn, Amelia was so good at not showing what she didn’t want to show.
Maybe you couldn’t be that popular in school if you didn’t have that skill.
She took a deep breath and braced for emotional honesty, incoming.
“I think it looks like we spend as much time together as we want to, and we do whatever we want to do in that time. And when you inevitably hire a real teacher to take over my job, and I go back to Denver, then it’ll just be over, and we’ll both move on.
” Bryn sat back after speaking, expecting to feel …
better than she did. It had sounded like a sensible, practical idea when she’d come up with it, when she had thought about it as an alternative to getting too serious, or serious in a way that wasn’t justified by who they were and where they were in their lives.
But now— Now it sounded weak, like hedging a bet.
Or worse, like salting a mine. Like maybe there was nothing here at all, and she was just inviting Amelia to pretend with her.
Amelia seemed to be looking at her as if trying to see her with X-ray vision.
There were, of course, truth spells. They didn’t really work as truth spells, though.
They worked more as spells that initiated a period of lax internal censorship, inviting the subject (or target, in some cases) to be a little loose with their reality.
But Bryn didn’t think either of them wanted that right now.
In fact, she thought both of them were hanging on to practicality with all their might.
“A fling,” Amelia said. “Yes, okay. I like that. A summer fling, except we’re doing it in the spring. Right. Perfect.”
It was the most reasonable thing. They agreed. There was no need to push it. No need to try for anything else. This was the obvious, best solution. Sensible adult women making a sensible adult decision.
So why did it feel so hollow?
Bryn reached for a piece of chocolate. Amelia intercepted her hand and brought it to her lips. Pressed the lightest kiss to her palm, her eyes entirely on Bryn’s.
“The thing is,” Amelia said softly, breath dusting over Bryn’s skin. “I want more than a fling. Last night was incredible, and I want to keep doing it for as long as we can. Even forever, if we want. I don’t want to plan for it to stop if it’s not … necessary. You know what I mean?”
No. No! We’re being logical. Rational. We are not saying things like “forever” because that would be ludicrous.
Bryn swallowed hard, her heart suddenly galloping in her chest. “I’m supposed to go back to Denver.
” Maybe Amelia was going to offer her a longer-term position so they could stay together?
Amelia nodded. “You are. But we could make long distance work, couldn’t we?”
Of course Amelia didn’t want to hire her permanently.
Foolish thing to imagine. She was patently bad at teaching, and anyway, she’d need to go to school to gain some credentials before she could get a permanent job.
Teaching was not Bryn’s life; she had to go back to her apartment, her un-begun book two, her fledgling career.
Yet she stared at their joined hands, feeling Amelia’s gaze like an ember smoldering on her skin.
It was terrifying. There was no way it could work out, surely. Long distance never worked out.
But the alternative was … what, just giving up? Bryn did not consider herself a person who gave up. “I don’t know why this scares me so much,” she confessed.
“If it’s not what you want—”
But Bryn interjected before Amelia could misunderstand. “Of course it’s what I want. You’re what I want. This is what I want. And I know it. But it’s scary to imagine it failing.”
Amelia squeezed her hand and said, using the words Bryn had said to her the night before, “Look at me.”
So Bryn did. And in Amelia’s face, creased with exhaustion after her day, her eyes slightly bagged due to lack of sleep, there was so much that she already loved there.
And love was the only word for it. She could dither if she wanted to, but she knew her own emotions.
She knew what this was, even though she’d never felt it before.
This was why it scared her so much; love was not a thing she could control, and it clearly wasn’t waiting for the situation to be logical, or rational, or reasonable.
She leaned up on her other arm and kissed Amelia. “I know it’s too early to say this, by a lot, but I love you. And no matter what happens, I want you to know that.”
Amelia, apparently not that tired after all, tackled her backwards, laughing.
“Oh gods, I can’t believe you said it first. I love you too.
It’s just … You were so cute when we were younger, and I wanted to hug you when you looked lonely, but I didn’t know if you’d welcome it—if you’d ever asked me out I would have said yes, but I was too shy to ask you.
And now you’re back here, and so am I, and it just feels like we have to take the chance. Don’t we?”
Bryn shook her head. “No, we’re choosing to.” And then she pulled Amelia down on top of her.
And for a while, they only kissed, communicating with lips and questing hands, nerve endings, skin, the brush of eyelashes, the flutter of breath.
Love, Bryn thought in a stunned, heavy haze. That was real.