Page 21 of Red Flags Only

“Brianna,” I snap. “Get. Me. My. Letter.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll ask Mars about it instead,” she mutters before wandering into the back room. Shereturns minutes later with my letter – and a couple hundred other, much less important ones.

“I just want the one from Lyra,” I tell her. “That other stuff can stay here until next time.” Or forever. I’m not picky.

“I’m under strict orders to make you take everything, and you know it,” she retorts.

I scowl. “Mars doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ll get them next time.”

She snorts. “If I let you get away with leaving them this time, you’ll try to get away with leaving them in the future too. No, sir. No, thank you. I’m not getting stuck with your mail hanging around, and I’mdefinitelynot getting stuck with a cross Mars when he finds out I didn’t listen to his directives. You can have them all or you can have none. What’s it going to be?”

I hate her.

“Mars needs better friends,” I reply.

“Uh huh,” she says. “Because a friend that does what he asks of her is a bad one indeed. Totally.” Her head shakes. “Sign the screen, bozo.”

I do, eye twitching, and the counter trembles as she hefts the box of mail onto it with athud.

“Thanks for doing business with us!” she chirps. “Have a good day!”

“Iwashaving a good day,” I grumble, snatching the box and exiting the building. Brianna’s giggles follow me out.

I sigh as I settle into my truck in front of the post office, grabbing Lyra’s letter from the top of the stack. I can’t help but smile as I take in the dainty lines that make up my name.

Jupiter Rogue.

Even as she adjusts to me being Jove, it’s good to seethat I am still Jupiter to her, if only in our letters.

Not bothering to wait until I get home, I flip the envelope and carefully peel the flap on the back, being extra gentle so as not to rip the otter sticker she put over the seam.

An ocean theme? Or… no, I see. River. River otters, beavers, and frogs decorate the hunk of cardstock inside the envelope, showing themselves proudly as I unveil each inch of letter. One frog has a thought bubble depicting the completely ridiculous statement thatFriends don’t hold friends hostage.

What utter nonsense.

My jaw relaxes as I flip open the letter, teeth unclenching and brows unfurrowing. Tension bleeds from me, seeping into the seats of my truck and below, losing itself in the earth, far from me – far from the beauty that is a Lyra letter.

The more I unfold, the more peace invades, until I’m almost as content as I was several nights ago lying in Lyra’s bed carving butterflies into her bed posts while she spent hours making this for me before unceremoniously booting me from her bed, room, and then, finally, house.

Hostage or not, she spared no expense, putting just as much care into her creation for me as she ever has. River rock shaped pockets hold sticker gifts. A series of paper water rings held together by a brad closure twist, constructing an interactive ripple for me to play with.

A catfish holds an intricately folded bit of paper labeledWormsWords for youin its mouth. I chuckle and fish it out, making a mental note of how it unfolds so that I might be able to recreate it to put it back.

Then, I read.

Dear Jupiter,

I can’t believe you’re in my house. I can’t believe you’re a boy. I can’t believe you’re carving who knows what into my bed, as if that is at all sane or legal.

You can’t just show up at someone’s house and demand they write you a letter, you know? That’s not cool behavior.

I mean, okay, one could argue that my behavior hasn’t been exactly cool either. I definitely should have written you back sooner. Communication, like you said. From your end, I can see how this would’ve been concerning. But still.

You’reyou, you know? Jove Rogue, town scary and a definite member of the male sex. Not Jupiter, my hilarious, thoughtful, sweet girl best friend.

We’ve been writing to each other for so long that to find outnowthat you’re a man? It feels like my whole life has been a lie. Everything I’ve ever known is suddenly so different, with different layers and subtext and connotations. So much of what I’ve told you I never ever ever would have if I had known you were you.

You get that, right? Clearly you’ve known who I am, but if you hadn’t? I don’t think you would have taken this kind of reveal well at all. It’s upending. It’s earth shattering. It’s a wowIdon’twanttodealwiththisrightnowsoIwon’t type of reveal.

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