Page 55 of Tilly in Technicolor
“It was so great to meet you,” Darcy says outside the bar, giving Tilly a hug. “And don’t forget to send me that Harley/Ivy fic you mentioned.”
“Send it to me, too,” Harry says, also giving Tilly a hug. For some reason, watching him wrap his arms around her, seeing her press up onto her tiptoes to squeeze him tightly, sends a sharp feeling through me, my stomach twisting like a wrung-out dishrag.
“Don’t worry about Harry,” Cubby whispers at my side, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“What?” I ask, brows furrowing.
“Harry’s got nothing on you, Oll. No need to get jealous.”
I frown. “I’m not jealous. What would I be jealous of?”
Cubby rolls her eyes and smiles at me. “Can I stay with you tonight?” she asks.
“Of course,” I answer automatically. “Why?”
Cubby lets out a long sigh. “Another fight with Connor. I’ve no idea where he’s pissed off to, but I certainly don’t want to share a room with the dickhead tonight.”
“You always seem to be fighting with Connor.”
“It’s really none of your business, is it?” Cubby crosses her arms over her chest, dragging her toe along the sidewalk.
“You’re my twin sister, Cubby… I like to think it’s at least a little bit my business.”
Cubby sighs. “Not tonight, Ollie. I just want to hang with you and not think about all the shitty things. Is that okay?”
I reach out, giving her a quick, one-armed hug. “Of course it’s okay.”
“I’ll catch up with you in the morning,” Cubby says, waving to Harry and Darcy.
“Don’t miss the train or we’ll be forced to leave you in the land of the happy,” Harry threatens as he and Darcy start moving down the street.
“Even you aren’t cruel enough to subject the innocent people of Copenhagen to that,” she calls to their retreating silhouettes. Their laughs echo back to us.
“You don’t mind if Cubby stays with us, do you?” I ask Tilly.
“Mind? I’m peeing with excitement. Hold on, let me just text my sister and give her a heads-up.”
“You two share a room?” Cubby asks, grinning up at me with wide eyes. I can see pink touch Tilly’s cheeks. In the faded light, it looks like Pantone 14–1714, Quartz Pink. It’s lovely.
I cough. “Mona books rooms with a connecting door we leave open so it’s more like a big suite for the four of us.”
“Sure it is.”
“Mona says it’s fine,” Tilly says, glancing up from her phone. “Let’s go.”
The night is misty and cool, and it does nothing to air out the fogginess of my head, Tilly running laps up there. Tillyand Cubby link arms as we walk, heads bowed close as they laugh and giggle. And it’s like—God, I’m not sure of the right words—but it’s like my chest is full and my limbs are warm and maybe it’s okay for my head to be up in the clouds.
When we get back to the hotel, I’m surprised to see Amina or Mona has closed our joint door, the nightstands pushed between the beds as a lackluster barrier.
Tilly squeals, launching into some whispered conspiracy that Amina and Mona are actually madly in love but too scared to admit it to each other and somehow the closed door confirms everything. Cubby agrees with her every word.
We stay up way too late, the three of us talking. Well, Tilly and Cubby do most of the talking, the pair lying in opposite directions on Tilly’s bed. But all three of us are equal in laughs.
I feel…
Well, this feeling is happiness. There’s no mistaking it.
The next morning, I wake up to find Cubby gone and a text from her on my phone.
