Page 53 of Backhanded Compliments

Juliette breathes in deeply. The weight of the last few days lies heavily on her shoulders. “You know how Luca was already at the villa?”

“Yeah?” Octavia twists a section of already rolled curls over Juliette’s shoulder. She closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in the sensation.

“She showed up the night before and we got into a spat. Well, actually, I antagonized her and said awful things.” A rock of guilt lodges in her throat.

“What did you say?” Octavia asks.

“Don’t.” Juliette shakes her head. She can’t say the words again. “I apologized, and Luca said we could try to be friends. Then she gave me a massage to help after we collided.”

Octavia clicks her tongue. “And you didn’t tell us?”

Heat crawls over Juliette’s face. “I didn’t know how to talk about it,” she mumbles.

Octavia sighs. “Okay, so what’s the issue? You two are friends now, no?” Octavia scrunches more cream into her curls, gently squishing them into their spirals.

Juliette’s throat closes. “It’s just… we kissed. Multiple times.” She feels stupid, like she’s thirteen again and admitting that she kissed a girl down by the beach.

This time, though, Octavia doesn’t laugh but instead sighs pensively. “Yes, groundbreaking, Jules. Kissing your soulmate.”

Juliette spins around, and Octavia stares at her with her impossibly green eyes, a brow raised, as if challenging her. It reminds her so much of their father that she cringes back. “I don’t want to feel like this, Octavia!” she says, throwing her hands up. “I can’t feel like this, I have a Grand Slam in front of me. But I feel like I don’t have a choice. I don’t understand how I can miss her and want her when—” Juliette cuts herself off.

Octavia’s hands land on her shoulders, grounding and steady. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but have you ever considered you might be wrong about Luca? That you might actuallylikeeach other, given the chance to get to know one another?”

Juliette inhales sharply, but it isn’t enough to bring relief to the burning sensation in her lungs. “That’s—what—I’m—worried—about!”

It isn’t until Octavia’s hands grab on to her shaking ones that she realizes she can’t breathe, can’t think.

“Jules,” Octavia says, squeezing her hands rhythmically. “Look at me.”

Juliette does, and she’s dizzy. “Fuck,” she whispers, and she tips forward into Octavia’s arms.

Her sister holds her as she sobs, unable to breathe and shaking so much she thinks she might vibrate out of her skin. Octavia strokes her hair and whispers soft words into her temple, rocking Juliette gently as she falls apart.

Her world rocks on its axis. Everything wobbles and threatens to collapse, to break. Juliette loses track of time as the perfectly constructed circles of her life warp and twist into unrecognizable shapes.

She has no idea how long she cries, but eventually, it tapers off. The panic is still there, a snake curling around her lungs, threatening to crush them, but she’s run out of tears. Now she’s left with hiccupping sobs and strangled breath.

Octavia pulls back, rubbing Juliette’s arms vigorously. “One moment,” she says suddenly, getting up and striding out to the kitchen.

Juliette wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold. When Octavia returns, she has a blister pack in her hand and a fresh glass of water. She pops out a pill. “Open,” she commands, and Juliette does, like she’s a strung-up puppet. Octavia puts the pill on her tongue and holds the glass to her mouth.

Juliette drinks and doesn’t question her, swallowing with a bit of difficulty. Octavia keeps the glass pressed to her lips, forcing her to drink the whole thing. She does, grateful because her mouth is parched, and her hands are shaking too badly for her to take it.

When the glass is empty, Octavia fills it again and sets it on the coffee table.

“I’m sorry,” Juliette hiccups, rubbing her face with her hands. She grabs a hunk of napkins and blows her nose.

Octavia waves her hand. “I’ve definitely done that a few times.”

Juliette blinks wetly at her.

Octavia smiles, a little sardonic, and sighs. “Oh, well,” she says as she tucks a still-wet curl behind Juliette’s ear. “We are more alike than I’d care to admit. And I know you’re close with Claudia and Livia, who isn’t? But we’re cut from the same fucked-up fabric.”

“You and Leo?” Juliette asks dumbly.

Octavia leans back and curls her legs beneath her. “Leo has two soulmarks.”

“Two?” Juliette can’t believe she’d never noticed. It’s more common for someone to have no soulmark than to have two. Juliette didn’t even know it was possible.

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