Me
I expect you to go to bat for me. NOTHING HAPPENED BETWEEN ME AND FELIX.
Poppy
I’m getting my baseball gear on as we speak!
Curse Poppy and her moral compass.
I tuck my phone in my pocket and swallow down the pain that’s trying to blossom in my chest. It’s been days since I told Felix I like him, and my heart is still bruised. Sometimes it aches out of nowhere; sometimes I’m able to forget, just for a little bit.
It’s my own fault. I know that. I broke the cardinal rule: I let Felix back in my life after I’d already gotten over my initial crush, my silly high school infatuation.
Yep. I brought this on myself.
That doesn’t make it hurt any less, unfortunately. And I know that while I don’t technicallyhaveto talk to Cyrus, it’s probably a good thing to do. I promised him nothing would happen with Felix, and then I broke that promise. But I’m not looking forward to how that conversation will feel.
No one wants to tell their brother they fell for his best friend—again.
Hope is such a stupid thing, isn’t it? Such a stupid, beautiful thing. Hope makes us jump out of our nests. And even when we fall flat on our faces, that same hope is potent enough to convince us to try again. What is that, if not sheer magic?Maybe this time will be different.
When do those hopes become delusions, then? Where’s the line?
I sigh, wiping my forehead with my sleeve and trying to clear these crazy thoughts from my mind. Then, even though my phone buzzes again, I keep working.
The excuse I give myself for avoiding Cyrus is that there’s no point calling him back while I’m at work. He’s probably going to want to talk in person, not because he’s so social but because our conversation might be extended or—depending on how grumpy he is—even heated. I’d rather defend myself in person, anyway, so although he calls me twice more while I’m at work, I don’t answer. It’s not until I’m on my way home that I pick up his call.
“You’re coming off pretty desperate, Cy,” I say.
“We need to talk. Come over to my place,” he says—and then he hangs up.
Thenerve.
I can’t say I’m surprised, though. So I redirect my course and head to his house instead of mine, taking deep breaths and fortifying myself the whole time. I drop a quick voice message to Poppy, telling her I’m going to Cyrus’s house now. Then I continue my strength breathing.
“You are a boss babe,” I tell myself firmly. It’s not strictly true—Aurora is more of the boss babe—but I’m running short on inspiration, which means my affirmations are a bit lacking. “You are allowed to like Felix,” I go on. “And you don’t have to apologize for liking him. You simply need to explain to Cyrus that your initial assessment was wrong.”
I’m not sure how effective this is, all the talking to myself, but it does make me feel a little better, so I keep it up for the rest of my drive. By the time I pull into Cy’s driveway, I’m repeating the words a bit feverishly: “Boss babe. You can like whoever you want. Just explain.”
And when I get through the front door—without knocking, I might add—I give myself one final, disjointed pep talk.
“I am a boss babe. All kinds of babe. I can like people.” I take a deep breath and then announce my presence. “Cy,” I call. My feet hesitate in the entryway, wary of moving forward, but I force myself on in. I even try to hold my head up high. Still, it’s only when I hear a female voice that I finally feel some of the tension drain out of me.
“We’re in here!” Poppy calls, and a big breath whooshes past my lips.
It’s not that I’m scared of Cyrus. I’m truly not. But I amsounexcited for the telling-off I’m about to get. Poppy is one of those rare people that can temper my brother, keep him calm and even-keeled.
So I march into the living room, where I find the two of them exactly as I expect to—Cyrus is seated in his favorite chair, and Poppy is on the couch.
The best defense is a strong offense, so I don’t let either of them speak.
“I would just like to say,” I begin, holding one hand up, “that I have done nothing wrong.”
Cyrus raises one cynical brow at me, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Did you or did you not fall in love with my best friend—like I told you not to?”
Some of my bravado falters, because Cy’s voice, his expression—they’re serious. He’s not giving me a hard time; he’s genuinely upset.