Page 33 of Small Sacrifices

"An older sister. Briana." Who has definitely tried to fight with himjust because.It took her a while to realize that Reid would get genuinely upset at what she thought was a fun diversion.

"And you get along well?" Everett asks.

Reid hums and says, "Mostly. Right now, she's worried about me. That can be difficult."

Immediately, his stomach sinks. That was too much, wasn't it? For a moment, he hopes that he's just being paranoid. But then he sees the spark of understanding in Everett's eyes. Yes, he definitely said too much. "So, if it's so stressful, why are you here?"

Reid has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping. He brought this on himself. Everett isn't even really being rude, he's justasking the obvious question. Probably.Deep breaths,Reid tells himself.

After a moment of awkward silence, he can feel Everett's eyes on his face. And then, Everett scrambles to face him on the bench, then lays a few fingers on Reid's upper arm. "No, not like that! I just meant… You must have a good reason, right? People don't do tough things for no reason."

There's urgency in Everett's tone and in the way his fingers dig into Reid's arm. Still, when Reid looks down to where he's being touched, Everett withdraws his hand immediately. His eyes are wide and apologetic. Reid's stomach churns.

Everett oozespopular kidfrom every pore. Wealthy, witty, and good looking. It doesn't work in his favor, not in this case. Popular kids have been the bane of Reid's existence for as long as he can remember. Popular kids, bright lights, and shoelaces.

On the other hand, Everett currently looks remarkably like a deer in headlights—eyes wide, hands raised in a defensive stance. He looks like he might be genuinely scared that Reid is… offended? Hurt? Something like that. It doesn't fit in with the aloof image of him that Reid has formed over the last few days.

Sometimes, you have to advance people some trust,Briana always says. And, well, it's not like someone could use his answer against him. It's an excellent answer. Briana has told him that.

"I just… Politics are so important. And many people, especially people my age, aren’t interested. That needs to change. And I want to help."

"You want to make politics cool again?" Everett asks, a quiet smile on his face. Reid thinks it might be teasing, but somehow, it's not mocking. Or maybe he's just imagining it. Still, he can't help but chuckle.

"I don't think politics were ever cool. No, it's more that… I think it's dangerous, how many people don’t care. If we ever want to enact sensible policies on things like environmentalprotections and bodily autonomy, we need more young voters. I want to help them."

"What, and TikTok your way into easily accessible abortions?" Nowthatsounds like mockery. But with the way Everett is smiling at him, his whole body still turned towards Reid on the bench, it helps him believe that it's not malicious. Also: He's the son ofRaymond Mackenzie.If anyone understands this, it's going to be him, right?

"And gender affirming care for minors, better healthcare overall, yes. If TikTok is what works, then we should use TikTok. As long as I don't have to do the dances myself."

He expects Everett to laugh. Briana laughed when he said it in a conversation with her, and she's not one to pretend anyone's funny to preserve their feelings. Normally, Everett laughs easily. But not today, it seems. No, he's just sitting there with wide eyes, hand frozen on its way to pick another donut out of the box.

"Is everything alright?" Reid asks. Did he say something wrong? Going back over what he just said doesn't turn up a reason for Everett to freeze up this way.

A car horn blares from beyond the hedge, and that seems to shake Everett out of his stupor. The change comes quickly. At first, there's just the rapid blinking, but then he shakes himself and packs up his donuts. Reid just sits there and watches, observing until the excuses start.

"Yeah, sure." Everett wipes at his hoodie, where there’s still powdered sugar adorning the dark fabric. "But I just remembered that one of my professors moved a lecture, so I really need to… go."

"Oh, okay," Reid says on autopilot as Everett briefly looks around, opens his mouth to speak again, and then just swings his legs over the back of the bench to get up that way. Reid can only wince in sympathy when he slides across the metal with way too much force. That can't be comfortable.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Everett says. And Reid has to hand it to him: He actually looks sorry. Is he sorry? "It was really nice to talk to you like this. Would you be up for a repeat?" He's already at the door, hurried in a way that makes no sense to Reid, but he stops and looks back, waiting for an answer.

This is quite sudden, so all Reid can do is nod. But it seems to be enough because it gets him a wide grin. "See ya!" Everett shouts over his shoulder as he leaves. Wordlessly, Reid stares after him, until he feels something wet run down his finger. Oh, that's right, his sandwich. He licks the mayo off his finger, pausing a moment to savor the taste.

Worrying about this interaction will have to wait for later. Now, it's lunchtime.

When Reid returns to his desk later, there are way too many eyes on him. Some of his colleagues aren't even trying to hide that they're staring at him.

He tries to get back to figuring out the best order for the itinerary next week, but Marisol's elbow is so sharp in his side that it robs him of his breath.

"Spill!" she hisses, which he has learned by now means that she wants an itemized list of everything that happened, down to even the most minute detail.

He shrugs. "We just had lunch."

Marisol makes a noise like an angry cat. "You don't just have lunch with Everett Mackenzie. Especially nothere."

Reid doesn't know what that means, and he's not sure that he wants to. It doesn't sound too good. Which is confusing, because he's pretty sure that he remembers her telling him that Everett is "cool". Was that a lie? Given that it's Marisol, probably not. But Reid doesn't have the patience for nuance right now. He needs to work. The break he took was already too long to properly fit into his plan for what he wants to achieve today.

The problem with that is that this is Marisol, and Marisol doesn't give up. He has to give hersomethingif he wants to get any work done in the near future. And also: It's Marisol. She won't laugh at him. He can tell her the truth. Or at least part of it.

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