Page 64 of Red Flags Only

“So I write the letter, obviously, except thelistsays I have to tell him everything I love about him and also how hot he is because, get this, he didn’t know? It’s insanity. So I’m writing and writing and going on and on about how I’m helpless until suddenly, it hits me.” I throw my free arm up, then wince as it hits painfully on a carved bedpost before continuing, “I’m in love with him. A total disaster! But I think, you know, he’s Jupiter, right? And I’ve just outlined for myself why I should be in love with him basically, and I’d be stupid to look at that and be allooo, but our friendshipbecause Ihatewhen book characters do that. Screw your friendship! Kiss! So I finish the letter and I mail it to him and I sit around for days and days waiting on a reply, which came today. And you know what he did?” I’m near shouting now, and give no pause for El to answer. “He wrote me a love letter back! And it was better than mine! Which, of course it was, considering writing is his job, but still! It was better! Until I get to the end, anyway, where he says, essentially,lol cool being besties with you always!”

I pant, wearing a rut into the hardwood floors as Icradle my smarting hand. “Clueless!”

Elodie, for her part, waits at least twenty seconds before bursting into fairy-tinkling laughter.

I groan. “It’s not funny! How do you tell a man he’s in love with you? How do you make him realize without being allpick me, choose me, love me?”

“It’s definitely funny,” she replies. “Remember when you didn’t even want to be fake dating him? And now look at you! Real dating! Except he doesn’t know it. It’s a romcom come to life, emphasis on the com. Hilarious. Subscribe, yes, give me more.”

“You can’t subscribe to my life,” I huff. “And you’re not being helpful.”

“What is cousin-hood if not a free life-long subscription to your life?” she asks. “Also, I’m not here to be helpful. I’m here to remind the readers that they love me so that when the author gets to my book, they’ll want to read it.”

“No one’s giving you a book if you don’t do some heavy side character action, and quick,” I reply. “You think people want to read about a woman who laughs at her family’s suffering?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the p. “I sure do. I’m totally set up for the grumpy/sunshine trope!”

I remember the voice in the background of our last phone call and her comments aboutgrumpy men. Hm. Maybe she is a little bit set up. Still.

“Thepoint, dear cousin, is that my life is in shambles and I don’t know how to fix it, because the man I love read my declaration of love, returned it, thenstillfriend-zoned me.”

Elodie coughs to stifle a giggle. “Have you considered just telling him? ‘Hey, Jove, congratulations. You’re in love with me. Don’t worry, I’m in love with you, too. Let’sget married and have a hoard of crime-loving babies.’”

“Our babies will be upstanding citizens,” I retort. Then, I remember the teenager at mini-golf. And Ted. “Unless there are extenuating circumstances.”

Fairy bells tinkle, and I sigh, falling into my desk chair. I pick up Jove’s letter. “Seriously, I don’t know what to do, El. It’s clear as day he’s in love with me. I know it just as certain as I know that I’m in love with him, but he has no clue.”

Elodie pushes, gentle but firm. “Tell him, Ly. In a way that makes him listen.”

I gulp. Right. “Any ideas on how to do that?”

“He’s a man?” she asks.

“Uh… yes?” I confirm.

“Then nope.”

We laugh, but it really isn’t funny.

Not at all.

Chapter Thirty-One

Ew, emotions.

Lyra

Friday evening, Jove shows up at my house as the sun is just starting to set, the same as he has for the past several weeks. Punctual. Exactly what I love in a boyfriend.

The difference this week, however, is that I’m actually ready for him. I am not covered in dirt. I am not being confronted with my ex-best friend. I am not ill.

Instead, I’m in my living room, sitting on the edge of my couch in the dress I wore to go-karts – the one Jove liked – anxiously tapping my fingers against my knees as I wait for him.

When he does not knock, but walks right into my house, I jump, skirt billowing as I spin toward his frowning frame.

“Jove!” I exclaim, fisting my skirt in my hands. “You’re here!”

He nudges the door shut, then drops a peachy-pink duffel bag on the floor next to it. “Your door was unlocked again,” he grumps, flipping the lock himself. “I can’t protect you if I’m not here, which means when I’m not around you have to take precautions, Lyra-love. You’ve got to lock your doors.”

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