Chapter 35
“Holy smokes,” Sasha yells, once the door has shut behind Calla. “How did that not break the curse?!”
“It wasn’t,” I say, then look down at my hands, not sure how to continue. How to explain love and desire in this company?
“It wasn’t her heart’s desire,” Bash says, his voice irritatingly light.
“How could it not have been? That was the hottest thing I have ever seen.”
“It was very nice,” I agree, hoping no one can hear the quaver in my voice.
“Nice? Nice? Tandy, that was epic. Tell me you’re not a quivering bag of jelly right now. Tell me.”
Irrespective of the jellylike state of my body, I sit on the desk and take a calming breath. “The kisses aren’t going to work, Sasha, no matter how…” Earth-shattering? Heart-stopping? “Nice they are,” I say.
“Why? What’s your heart’s desire, then?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t still be here.”
“Well, if it’s not kissing attractive people all the time, I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” she says, sounding a little peeved.
“Ah, but she’s not kissing them,” Bash says. I still haven’t looked at him, though I’m not sure why, since Calla kissed me.
“What do you call that, then?” Sasha demands. “She fully snogged Prince Calla there.”
“They kiss her,” Bash says, his voice soft. “She doesn’t kiss them.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sasha says. “Who kisses who—it’s all still kissing.”
“It matters,” he says, gently.
“No one kisses me at all,” Sasha grumbles, “and I don’t kiss anyone, so I don’t see the difference.”
“What about Amaritha?” I say. I’ve promised myself I won’t interfere in Sasha’s crush on the perfidian, but anything’s better than having Bash try to explain the difference between kissing someone and being kissed by someone.
“She’s not…we’re not…” Sasha stumbles over her words and stops.
“Are you going to ask her to the year-end ball?” I ask.
“We’re just friends. She’s had loads of girlfriends anyway, and I’m so…you know.”
My heart rate is finally beginning to slow; nothing like a bit of teenage drama to distract oneself from one’s own romantic problems.
“You should ask her,” I say. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“She says no and never speaks to me again and I’m a pariah forever.”
I doubt Amaritha would say anything other than yes, very enthusiastically, but I have the benefit of distance and a few years on the situation. “And social exile aside, what else might happen? What if she says yes?”
Sasha colors a little and says nothing.
Outside the bells chime the hour. “I should go home,” Sasha says, and wanders off to collect her things.
I finally turn my gaze to Bash, who’s still sitting on the stairs.
He’s watching me; even in the dim light, I can feel the weight of his gaze.
We hold each other’s eyes for a long moment, until Sasha reappears, sounding a little less glum and promising to return with Amaritha after school tomorrow. We watch her leave in silence.
I clear my throat, but he stands before I can say anything. “I should shove off, too,” he says.
“No banter? No commentary on this one?” I ask, with the faint realization that I don’t want him to go.
“Not this time,” he says softly, and with that he’s gone. I spend an hour after he leaves searching, but if he’s taken anything and left something in exchange, I can’t find it.