Page 92 of Tilly in Technicolor
Trying to sit up in a more dignified position on the floor, I wedge myself against the wall. I’m a bit overwhelmed by this, er, surprise and the resulting commotion. Cubby notices, pressing her back against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor with me while Micah, Marcus, and Harry fight for spots to look out the window at our gorgeous view.
“Tilly thought it would be a nice surprise for you to have all your friends around. Sort of an end of the summer celebration thing,” Cubby says, leaning her head against my shoulder. “She asked Mona and Amina if it’d be okay then called me to tell me about it. I coordinated the rest.”
A relieved sigh leaves my chest. Okay. Good. Facts and explanations help. And now I can focus on the fact that all of my favorite people in the world are in the exact same, beautiful place. I look at Cubby and grin.
“I can’t believe you’re all here,” I say, glancing around the room. Then I frown. “Where’s Connor?”
I feel Cubby’s shoulders stiffen, then she shrugs. “I don’t know. He isn’t my problem anymore.”
My frown deepens. “Did you break up again?”
Cubby shrugs again. “We’re taking a break.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, mind your own business, Oliver.”
“Does this mean he’s no longer in Tongue-Tied?”
“Oh my God, Oliver, we aren’t called Tongue-Tied anymore,” Darcy says from the bed. “That was a totally different era for us.”
“That was literally last month!”
“We’re called Ivan on My Mind, now,” Cubby says, looking at me like I’m incredibly dim for not keeping up with her band’s daily name changes.
“Who’s Ivan?” I ask, looking between Cubby, Darcy, and Harry, who’s walked over from the window.
“… What?”
“Who is Ivan?”
The three Ivan-ites look at each other in bewilderment like I asked them to translate all their songs to Portuguese on the spot.
“Don’t overthink it,” Cubby finally says, waving away my question.
“Isolove all this chatting,” Micah says, stepping into the center of the group. “But could we do it, like, on the beach? In the sun?”
Tilly scrambles off the bed and dives for her suitcase. “I like the way you think,” she says, stopping only long enough to give Marcus and Micah hugs. “It’s great to finally meet you in person, by the way,” she says, giving them both a grin. “Now let’s get to the water.”
We spend the day at the beach, alternating between lounging on the sand and splashing around in the water. I spend most of my time in the sea, loving the way the aquamarine water feels as comforting as a hug as I float, holding Tilly’s hand.
By the time dusk falls, all our energy is drained from the endless sunshine, replaced by a lovely, heavy calmness. All of us, that is, except for Tilly. She seems to have absorbed all that sunlight, and is now reflecting it back to us, keeping us giggling as she talks over dinner in town.
“God, I love her,” Cubby whispers to me, after Tilly tells a particularly ridiculous story about running into her neighbor’s immaculate shrubbery after first getting her license.
“I do, too,” I whisper back, then reach out, twining my fingers with Tilly’s and holding her hand under the table.
Part of me wishes I could capture this moment in a photograph, look at it over and over from every angle until all the details and colors and shapes are imprinted like a tattoo on my mind. But I know a photo wouldn’t do it justice. It wouldn’t capture this warm and bright glow in my chest. The gentle hum in my arms and legs. The comfortable stillness in my head.
It wouldn’t do justice to Tilly’s laugh or the way my sister smiles. The unspoken words in every look Marcus gives Micah.
This moment is more than any picture could capture.
And it’s ours.
Chapter 39Paris, You Fickle Wench
TILLY
