Page 150 of Brazen Mistakes

“Downside to what?”

“To dating the same girl as my friends. Boundaries are nebulous.”

I chuckle. “I guess that’s something we’ll have to figure out.”

He watches me as I ice his chest. “Is it difficult?”

“What?”

“Balancing it. Us.”

His skin feels appropriately cool, so I move to the next bruise. “I don’t know. I don’t think we’ve been trying this out long enough for me to really know where we’ll struggle. But I want you all to feel as special as you each are to me. And I hope if ever I’m dropping the ball, you’ll feel comfortable saying something to me.” Peeking up at him, I find him with one hand behind his neck, the other hovering a few inches from my side, like he still isn’t sure what touches are okay and when.

“I feel like I can tell you anything,” he says, dropping his hand on top of my own.

“Good. Because, if we’re getting serious here, I’m coming to you with my thoughts first. Once they’re straightened out, I’ll share them with the others. But with you, I feel safe to let them out in a tangled mess without you judging me or jumping to conclusions.”

“Like the FBI thing?”

I fiddle with the towel. “Yeah, like that.”

“When are you going to tell everyone else?”

“Hopefully never. I’m already on the team. It’s not like I’m backing out now.”

“You always have a choice, Clara. That’s the whole point of the probationary period. It’s not just for us to be sure of you, but for you to be sure that this is the life you want.”

“That’s the problem—I know I want this life. I just, I don’t know. I’m not Bryce’s broken girl who submitted that application back in September, hoping to feel powerful instead of fearful. But I’m not the leader Jasmine thinks I am, or the ice princess your dad saw me as, either. And, I guess, I don’t want to make any life-altering decisions when I don’t even know who I am.”

RJ takes the ice from his chest, setting it aside, circling my wrists in his long fingers. “Clara, you just described yourself by how other people see you. How do you see yourself?”

I flop my forehead down to his chest, avoiding any bruises. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. How can you see yourself when you’re stuckinsideyourself?”

His silence isn’t scary. I concentrate on his fingers sliding over the back of my hand while I wait.

“Maybe see isn’t the right word. Of course, seeing includes others’ perspectives. Maybe feel is a better word. How do you feel yourself?”

Having been crunched up on my knees for too long, I crawl so I can rest my cheek on his chest, not wanting to look at him, not when I’m so confused. “I don’t know that I can answer how. But maybe when? But even that is hard. How do you know what’s a stupid chemical reaction in your brain, and how do you know what speaks to your soul?”

“I don’t think you can separate the two, Clara. Our thoughts are hormones and electrical impulses. And our souls theoretically reside in these hormonal meat sacks controlled by the central nervous system.”

The longer I lie here, the more I’m certain that I have no idea who I am and what I want.

I thought I wanted Bryce. That was obviously a mistake.

I was certain I belonged at the FBI. But I’m actively pursuing crimes now, so, yeah. That’s out.

I tried to be a badass bitch, a budding criminal savant. But after every stressful interaction, I fall to pieces, terrified that I’ve been mean, unruly, unlikable.

Do I even want to be likable?

And if I do, who do I want to like me?

I can count on fewer than ten fingers the number of people in this world whose opinions matter to me.

Disturbed by the direction of my thoughts, I sit back up. “I’ve distracted you long enough. You had a date planned?”

RJ’s grin eases a little of the tightness in my chest. “It might be too late for dinner and a movie. I think the film I was going to take you to starts soon.”

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