Page 89 of Backhanded Compliments

Juliette’s stomach drops through the floor. “Last time I did that, I blew up the internet. And that’s what—”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only the tennis sphere. You didn’t even trend. Plus, this is actually private. You know Octo.”

Juliette can’t argue with that. “I think this is all moving too fast.” She moves toward the stairwell, the jittery energy becoming static in her ears.

She hears the sigh of a couch moving as Livia folds into it. “You’re just afraid, Jules,” she says.

“Of course, I’m afraid,” Juliette says, and she punches open the door to her floor. “Look, I have to go.” She hangs up before Livia can get in another word. Her phone buzzes again and she picks it up without looking at the screen. “Livie, I told you, I’ll talk to you later.” She jams the phone between her shoulder and ear, impatiently slamming her key card into the door.

“Juliette?” Luca’s voice crackles through the speaker.

The phone slides from where it’s scrunched against Juliette’s neck and falls to the floor. She scrambles to grab it and stumbles into her room. “Sorry, Luca. I thought you were Livia.” Her satchel slips off her shoulder and smacks to the floor. Fuck, she hopes her camera didn’t break.

“I gathered that,” Luca says dryly. Then, with more concern, she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Great, fantastic, why wouldn’t I be?” Juliette is aware she’s breathing too fast, and her vision is spinning. She’s falling and feels like at any moment she’s going to splinter into thousands of pieces on the ground.

“Jules?”

She realizes she’s crouched on the ground, her hand on the floor to keep her steady. “Yeah?”

She breathes in deeply. Then she tips back and sprawls on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. She counts the speckles of black paint artfully splattered across the cream.

“You sound like you’re panicking? Do you want me to come to your room? Is that where you’re at?” Luca’s voice threads through the phone, tiny and with a little quaver, but Juliette closes her eyes and listens to the lilt of her accent around the vowels without really comprehending what she’s saying.

“My sisters are having a cocktail party tonight,” she says. Her throat tightens, and when she blinks her eyes open again, her vision spirals. “Livia wants me to bring you.”

“Okay,” Luca says slowly.

Juliette swallows. “It’ll probably be overwhelming. Much like the Connolly Cup except they’ll all be grilling us about each other. I understand if you don’t want to come.” The words fall out in a tumbled rush, and Juliette isn’t sure if they’re in the right order. Is she even speaking English anymore?

“Do you want me to come?” Luca asks, and Juliette latches on to the sound of her voice again.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Juliette says numbly. “And they’re not as bad as my dad, but they’re meddlesome and complicated.”

“That isn’t what I asked, Juliette,” Luca says patiently. “Where are you? Why don’t we talk about this in person?”

“No!” Juliette barks, and she cringes the minute it leaves her mouth. Her head aches and she wonders if she’s going to be sick.

“So, you don’t want me to come?” Luca asks.

Juliette hates how flat her voice is.

“No, I’m sorry,” Juliette says, her eyes prickling. “It’s not you. There are pictures of us from the boardwalk online. I know it shouldn’t freak me out, but it does, and I can’t explain it.”

She covers her eyes, and that somehow makes everything worse. Her stomach twists. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She listens to Luca breathe on the other side of the phone, somewhere else, and not near her. She wants Luca here, but she doesn’t want Luca to see her like this over nothing.

“Juliette, what is this really about? Who cares about rumors? We’re allowed to be friends in public.”

“I’ve never had something like this, and if we let the world in, it’ll be ruined,” she whispers.

Luca sighs. “Juliette, it’s okay. Everything will be fine. Breathe, please.”

Juliette exhales sharply, her lungs burning. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. “I feel sick,” she says.

“Jules, seriously, where are you? I think you might be having a panic attack.”

Juliette laughs, but it sounds high and hysterical to her ears. “It’s so fucking stupid, Luca! I shouldn’t be! I’m fine, really.” The walls bend inward, and she claws at her tight throat.

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