Page 68 of Nobody in Particular

“So, what now?”

Molly finally glances at me. “I don’t want to be angry anymore,” she says.

It is, I suppose, as positive a step as I could hope for. “Do you think we could start speaking again?” I ask her.

“I’d like to.”

Neither of us has ever been any good at emotional displays of affection, even prior to the last six months. So we don’t celebrate our tentative reconciliation with an embrace. But when Molly stands and offers to return to the party with me—not ahead of me, or behind me, or sulking by my side, butwithme—it feels like a warm blanket all the same.

And yet.

“I’m not ready to go out just yet,” I say. “I may stay in here for another minute.”

And so, she gives me a sad smile and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

My favorite room in a party has always been the quietest, farthest room from the festivities, and I’m sure Mum plans on cutting the cake soon, which will require me to be energetic, and bright, and sociable. And I can be exactly none of those things without a moment to breathe and prepare myself for round two. For about a minute, I simply sit and breathe, then I wander over to the curtains. If I part them, I’ll catch a glimpse of the crowd below, camping out in hopes they can glimpse me right back. I could do it. I could greet them. Maybe I even should, to connect with some of the people who still love me despite everything.

But I so prefer being alone.

Yet, when the door behind me opens, and I turn around to find Danni standing behind me, I feel anything but annoyance. I offer her a wordless smile, and she closes the door behind her and joins me to stare at the drawn curtains, as though we’re surveying a breathtaking view. From a mountaintop chalet, perhaps.

“Apparently the fireworks are starting soon,” Danni says.

“Ridiculous waste of money,” I say. “When I’m queen, there will be no fireworks.”

“You know what? I’m down with that. Taxpayers should not befunding fireworks displays. Or acrobats. Or champagne towers, honestly.”

“Absolutely agree. I will abolish all of it.”

“Good.”

“No more fireworks throughout the kingdom. In fact, no merriment at all.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of lowering the budget cap on royal birthday parties.” Danni grins. “I didn’t mean you should go allFootlooseon the poor country.”

“No, no, I like the merriment ban. I’ll call it the Blythe Law, just so everyone knows where it came from.”

“I would like to go on record and say I was never in favor of a total fireworks ban.” She clears her throat, and looks away suddenly. “Um, also. Just a heads-up. I told Molly I have feelings for you, but I said they’re unrequited.”

I break into a silent laugh, and press my fingers to my lips to still them. Danni notices, and she tips her head to one side, quizzical. “Did Molly already tell you that?”

I will tell her exactly what Molly knows. Though I think I’ll leave out the misunderstanding, lest she takes on any responsibility for me unwittingly outing myself to Molly. But for now, that’s not what I want to discuss.

I want to take her hands in mine, but I don’t. Instead, eyes blazing, I turn to face her. “I think you just gave me my best friend back,” I say thickly, and her eyes widen in surprise.

“You and Molly made up?”

When I break into a smile, she throws her arms around me. Oh, I forgot how this feels. The warmth of her, the feel of her heartbeat against my ribs, the scent of her shampoo as my cheek presses against the top of her head. I clutch on to her like she’s a buoy, and I’ve only just realized I’ve been treading water for far too long.

She digs her fingertips into my back, and rests her head against mine. “Rose,” she whispers, and I don’t know if it’s a statement or a question. Or a warning.

I don’t even know who shifts first. All I know is, all at once, we’re kissing, and there’s nothing hesitant or gentle about it. It’s adesperate, frantic, hungry kiss, and her fingers are in my hair, and my hand is firm against her waist, and my back hits the wall hard before I even register that we’ve moved. With my other hand, I pull her in to deepen the kiss, and she lets out an involuntary moan at the back of her throat that almost causes my knees to buckle. If it weren’t for the support of the wall, I think they might have.

We were barely even together. Like a cherry blossom, we’d bloomed, and dazzled, and died, all in the span of weeks. Although trees don’t truly die once their leaves fall, do they? They simply lie dormant. As, I suppose, did we.

But still, we were so brief. Kissing her shouldn’t feel like this, as though I’ve finally reattached a lost limb, and I’m whole once more. Missing her shouldn’t matter this much. I’ve been missing her for longer than I ever even had her.

But god, she matters. I can’t help it. She matters.

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