Page 53 of Rivals to Lovers
“I could have. And I could have asked more about Kyle too. I know. I will try harder. Look,” she said, getting out her phone and opening Instagram. “I will follow him. I will make kind comments about his life and learn more, okay?”
Anna paused, seemed to relax a little. “Love takes effort. All kind of love. It’s a verb, not a noun, right? I love him, and I appreciate that you’ll put in some effort to get to know him too. But be warned: His Instagram is a mess, but sure. It’s a start. Prepare for lots of Star Wars memes and woodworking pics.”
“And you.”
“Yes, and me. We should talk more.”
“I agree. Love is a verb. I’ll do better.” Mo grabbed her hand. “And maybe I am jealous. Not of Kyle. I will give him a chance, I promise. But I’m jealous that you have it figured out. I’m the older sister, and I feel like I was such a leader to you. I had everything figured out when we were younger, and now?”
“Now?” Anna prompted.
Mo leaned against the building. It was an antiques store. Small, haunted-looking dolls glared out at them. If she hadn’t been emotionally socked in the gut, it would have been funny. “Now I’m a mess.”
Anna leaned next to Mo, her long sweep of blonde hair coming loose from her half pony to hang around her face. “You seem off. I mean, besides insulting the love of my life.”
“Ugh, again, I’m sorry about that.”
“You should be. But tell me what’s up. Let me sibling you a little.”
When Anna usedsiblingas a verb, it evoked their best days together. At Iowa State, Mo had a terrible first-year roommate randomly assigned to her who was obsessed with insects. Her second year, she lived with friends and they fought nonstop. Finally, junior year, her sister became a Cyclone too, and they lived together off campus. Nothing had ever felt more natural than those days, coming back to the apartment and laughing about the idiotic things they were obsessed with. They siblinged back then: knew each other to the core; teased and loved each other in equal parts. It was the same ease now Mo had with Sloan and Mackenzie, but she’d lost the knack of it with Anna. Mo took a deep breath. “I wrote another book, but I don’t think it has a chance to get published.”
“That’s big,” Anna said.
“It’s an adaptation ofThe Proud and the Lost.”
Anna made a face, scrunching her nose so that her freckles rearranged their constellation. “Ugh, that book we were supposed to read in Miss Tucci’s class in eleventh grade? With the car crash?”
“I’d read it about a dozen times before that, but yes.” And, after a deep breath, Mo told her about the time at the estate two weeks ago and about Estelle, including her heart attack. She edged around Wes’s involvement, but she had to mention him to make the story understandable.
Because Anna had superpowers, she must have heard something in Mo’s voice. “You like Wes.” When Mo didn’t deny it, Anna pushed on. “Is that why you and Aaron broke up? Not that I was a huge fan of Aaron, but—”
“I actually broke up with Aaron a year ago.”
Anna took a bite of her hot dog, then swallowed. “A year is a long time to not tell your family about.”
Mo slid down the wall, below the eyeline of the haunted dolls. The concrete was reassuringly cold and solid under her. “I know. I’m sorry. I think I have this thing about admitting mistakes to you. Since I moved out there, I mean.”
“Or, you know, since forever.” Her sister sat next to her.
“I just don’t want you all to worry about me making the wrong choice. Or be ashamed of me.”
“The only way we would be ashamed of you is if you lost yourself.” Anna knocked her shoulder softly against Mo’s. “And if this Wes guy makes you feel like you’re not good enough, then I don’t like him.”
“No, definitely not. I feel—I feel like my silliest me. My best me.” Mo didn’t have a hot dog to distract her now. “And that’s probably how Kyle makes you feel. I’m such a dumbass. I’m sorry.”
“Youarea dumbass, and I love you.” Anna stood up and offered a hand to help Mo do the same. “So, are you seeing this guy?”
“We’re reading our books to each other—the rest of our books. And I’m getting to know him better.”In bed,she wanted to add, like they used to at the end of fortune cookies.
Anna’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, Mo, that is so cute. Only you would fall in love via book club, I swear.”
“It’s not a book club,” Mo said, irritated. She thought of the manuscript in her suitcase that she’d saved to read on the flight home, like the dessert at the end of a long meal. “And I’m not in love with him. It’s all … very complicated.”
“You love complicated. You love complicated things so much you will literally invent them. That’s half of whatbeing a writer is, right?” Anna made her voice go sultry. “It’s a sexy-times book club. Wes and Mo and the sexy-times book club.”
“With car crashes.”
“Oh yeah, only the sexiest car crashes.” Her sister glanced around the quiet street. A truck drove by, casting its headlights to illuminate the freaky dolls in the window even more clearly. “You should call him,” Anna said.
