Page 18 of Written in the Stars
Elle’s blue eyes swept back up Darcy’s body and lingered on her face, stare penetrating. “You’re shorter without your heels on.”
Darcy sniffed. “That is how it works, yes.”
Elle snorted and pressed off the door with her shoulder. Without waiting for an invitation, she slipped past Darcy through the doorway, their arms brushing.
Elle wore a soft, chunky blue cardigan that fell haphazardly from one shoulder, revealing a wide expanse of creamy skin and the jut of her collarbone. Darcy tore her eyes away and made herself focus on the imperfections, the way Elle’s jeans were frayed and rain-soaked at the bottom and her Converse were scuffed and sure to leave tracks on the carpet.
“Could you—” Darcy’s voice teetered on the verge of cracking. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin to stare down her nose. “Could you take your shoes off?”
Elle’s brows lurched upward before she shrugged. “Fine. Figured you’d want me in and out, but yeah, I can get comfy.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. Whether Elle wascomfywasn’t her concern. “I don’t want you making a mess of my carpet.”
Elle’s tongue poked against the inside of her cheek, her expression souring. Rather than argue, she bent at the waist and slipped her fingers behind the heel of one shoe, then the other, straightening to then step out of them. The move caused her sweater to slide farther down her arm, revealing more soft-looking skin and the subtle swell of her breasts. The chances of her wearing something under that sweater were looking slimmer by the second.
Leaving her shoes smack-dab in the center of the foyer, Elle traipsed farther into Darcy’s apartment, brazenly surveying her surroundings. She studied the art on the wall with a curious tilt of her chin before moving on to finger the spines of the books on Darcy’s shelf. Every so often, her whole face scrunched, occasionally accompanied by a stuck-out tongue that wasnotadorable.
Hanging back, Darcy swallowed down the lump of discomfort growing in her throat. Elle was a bright splash of color against the clean canvas of Darcy’s apartment. Cobalt sweater, bleach-splattered jeans, and mismatched socks, one neon green and the other a soft periwinkle, with a pink chevron at her toes and a hole near the ankle.
Darcy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “By all means, make yourself at home.”
Elle spun on her holey-sock-covered heel and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, before taking a seat and drawing both knees up to her chest, feet on Darcy’s pristine sofa.
Darcy stayed standing, arms crossed, and chin raised.
“Nice place.” Elle’s eyes roved around the room, lingering on the neat stack of Darcy’s FSA study guides before darting over to the fern—Darcy’s singular pop of color—in the corner. Her brows furrowed. “Did you just move in?”
Darcy curled her tongue behind her teeth. “No.”
“Huh.” The fact that she was able to pack so much judgment into such a tiny word would’ve been impressive had Darcy not been one, slightly offended, and two, ready to get this conversation over with.
“You have questions.” Darcy didn’t bother asking. For allthat Elle had sprawled herself lazily across Darcy’s sectional in an illusion of relaxation, her fingers twitched against her thighs, her feet shifting, toes curling and uncurling as her gaze bounced from one surface to another.
Elle wrapped her arms around her shins. “We’re through with the small talk?”
“In the interest of time.” Darcy dipped her chin. “Like I said, I’m busy.”
Elle’s too perceptive gaze darted from the lone, now-cold cup of coffee to Darcy, her eyes lingering on Darcy’s lounge pants, then her hastily braided hair. “Right. Then in the interest of time, I’ll get straight to it.” Elle lifted her hips, wiggling her phone free from her back pocket. She made several swipes against the screen before clearing her throat. “Question one, what the fuck?”
Darcy shut her eyes and breathed deep for a count of four, held it for a count of seven, and exhaled for a count of eight. She’d have repeated the process had Elle’s stare not been palpable, making the skin between Darcy’s shoulder blades itch. “Can I expect question two to be more specific?”
Elle harrumphed and glanced down at the phone in her hand. “I don’t know, let’s see. Question two, how dare you?”
Darcy abandoned her yoga breathing and cut to the chase. “I’m sorry. Okay?”
Best to issue a broad-stroke apology because Darcy wasn’t entirely sure what Brendon had said, only that Elle’s reaction wasn’t positive.
Elle’s hand flopped down against the couch, her phone bouncing gently. “You’re sorry. Sorry for what exactly?”
“For whatever has you all”—she waved her hand in Elle’s general direction—“vexed.”
Elle’s shoulders shook with slow-building laughter. She leaned forward and dropped her head into her hands before letting out an aggrieved, muffled shriek. “Vexed.” She lifted her head, face flushed pink. “God. Do you insert that stick up your ass every morning, or is it more like an IUD that lasts you five years?”
Her jaw dropped. “You know what—”
“No.” Elle stood and sidestepped the coffee table, stalking toward Darcy. “I’m not finished. You want to know what has me allvexed? Let’s see, maybe you’re sorry for being rude last night? Poo-pooing what matters to me like my job? Ordering a fifty-six-dollar glass of wine? Talking smack about me to whoever the hell it was on the phone when you don’tknowme?” Elle took another step forward, fingers lifted as she aired her grievances. “Or maybe lying to your brother, huh? Telling him we hit it off when we obviously didn’t? You put me in the position of having to choose between going along withyourlie, a lie I can’t for the life of me understand, or owning up to last night’s disaster all on my own. So I don’t know. Take your pick, Darcy.”
Heat flooded Darcy’s veins, creeping up her chest and neck, shame making her dizzy. Contradictory and ill-timed, a tendril of heat spread lower, settling beneath Darcy’s belly button because anger turned the blue of Elle’s irises into something fierce like a sea during a storm. Color settled high on her cheeks and her messy bun had come undone, strands of hair framing her heart-shaped face. For a moment, Darcy wondered whatElle would look like, sweat dripping down that bare expanse of neck, her back bowing against Darcy’s sheets. The temperature in Darcy’s apartment climbed, her shirt sticking to sweat dotting the small of her back.
