Page 43 of Forgotten Monsters
“Jules!” Lydia jumps to her feet a few desks down in a series of cubicles. A long red braid cascades over her shoulder, but she hasn’t aged a day.
“Lydia.” I skip over to my best friend and pull her into a warm embrace, which she reciprocates tenfold.
“Oh gods, I missed you so much.” She squeezes me tight.
A hint of sadness pierces my excitement. “I’m so happy to see you. Where’s Allie? Did she come through here?”
Lydia releases me. “Yes. She went with Rose Deveraux to get help.”
Flynn smiles at my side. “Nice to see you too, Red.”
“Hey, Flynn.” She throws her arms around him in greeting.
I gape.
My best-friend and the guy that used to terrify her beyond reason hug like they’re old friends, and once again I tremble at the consequences of my trip to the Underworld. Everything is different, and while this isgood-different, it still unnerves me.
Flynn keeps one arm around her shoulders and brings me inside the huddle. “How’s my chess piece going, any progress?”
A chuckle warms Lydia’s answer. “Yes, I finished it.”
Flynn skips over to the huge chess board on one of the desks and snatches a black piece from the board. His lop-sided grin melts into a puppy-dog pout. “He looks…drunk.”
Lydia’s shoulders hitch. “It’s supposed to be realistic.”
I grab the arch of my brow. “Oh wow. I’m totally freaked out that the whole world changed while I was puking my entrails out on a boat for only three weeks, butthis—” I motion between the two of them—“I need more of this.” I turn to Lydia. “You could barely speak in his presence before, what happened?”
Flynn inventories the chess pieces. “Red and I got shit-faced a bunch of times to honor your memory.”
Lydia gives him the stink eye. “I don’t know if I’d frame it like that.”
The Fae drags his feet to us. “She just got back.”
“We should be transparent with her,” Lydia growls.
I squint at them in turn, a current of awkwardness suddenly rolling off of them. “Transparent about what?”
“We had sex. It was before I found out you were alive,” Lydia blurts out, a vicious blush coloring her cheeks.
Flynn’s eyes widen like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie-jar—or in this case, up my best friend’s skirt. “I only went down on you.”
“It counts,” Lydia clips.
Flynn huffs. “It doesnot.”
“Guys, guys, relax. I’m not—I mean, it’s okay.” A tiny ember of jealousy flickers in my chest, but the obvious guilt burning through Lydia snuffs it out immediately. I have no obvious stake on Flynn, and I had no expectation that he remained celibate for years, as he already admitted that he slept with a bunch of people while I wasdead. I’m relieved to hear they’re not a couple—that might have been weird—but I have no desire for them to feel bad.
My brain spirals down the rabbit hole, and I grip Lydia’s hand. “We need to talk.” I pull her toward the stairs.
Flynn inches forward. “Can I come?”
“No,” we answer in unison.
I guide Lydia to the basement, to the restricted section, where we spent so many hours studying. This part of the library hasn’t changed a bit, and a heavy sense of nostalgia grips me. Fire reflects off the stone walls, and the familiar scent of mildew tugs at my heart.
“Are you mad?” Lydia asks.
I shake my head, instinctively heading for my usual table. “I have feelings for Flynn, but everything is so fucked up, I’m absolutelynotmad at you.”
