Page 50 of Written in the Stars
“Why do you always think what I say has some double meaning? It’s a compliment. It means I—”Like your face. “I think you’ve got a cute nose.”
It felt like someone had cranked the heat in the store up to a million degrees, like Elle was standing on the surface of the sun instead of wearing an impractical T-shirt in the middle of November. She ignored the flush climbing up the sides of her throat and stared at Darcy from the corner of her eye, watching as an identical blush crept up Darcy’s jaw.
“Oh.” Darcy cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
Elle bit the inside of her cheek and hummed, flipping the tag on the jacket so she could see the price. Her brows rocketed to her hairline.Never mind.
Moving down the aisle, Elle stopped in front of a case of creepy dolls that Darcy refused to look at because she’dseen enough horror movies to know how that goes, thank you very much. When Elle paused to peruse the vintage hair accessories, Darcy slipped off to buy her sweater.
Casting one last forlorn glance to the back of the store where theBewitchedjacket was tucked away, Elle made her way to the front of the store, meeting Darcy by the door.
Bracing herself for the cold, Elle crossed her arms tight across her body and ducked her chin as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Warm fingers gently seized her by the elbow, keeping her from going far.
“Here.” Darcy shoved a bundle of fabric at her, pressing it to her chest.
It was the jacket, the one she’d wanted terribly, the one that cost ninety dollars. Too much. Elle’s heart climbed its way upher chest, settling inside her throat, an immovable lump that made it hard to swallow. “Darcy—”
“You’re always forgetting to wear a jacket. I start to wonder if you even own one.” Darcy stared at a spot over Elle’s shoulder.
She clutched the jacket to her chest reverently, words failing her.
“It’s really nothing,” Darcy said. “You bought my dinner. And paid for our drinks that first night. Consider it an additional congratulations for closing your deal with OTP.”
Darcy sniffed softly, the move making her nose twitch. All Elle would be able to think about each time she wore the jacket was Darcy’s pert little nose wrinkling.
The box of wine wasn’t nothing andthis, this was definitely notnothing. It wassomething, Elle just didn’t know what. But she liked it, liked that Darcy had thought about her, had gone out of her way to do something kind just because. Despite what she’d said, what they both had said, not once all evening did Darcy press Elle to commemorate the night with a photo she could post so Brendon would see them together. Elle didn’t know what any of it meant, only that it felt like this thing between them had shifted.
Elle slid the jacket over her arms and pushed the sleeves up over her wrists. A perfect fit.
“And you liked it. So.”
There was that word again.So. Imagining what came after that teeny tiny word was too tempting.
So tempting that later that night, as Elle lay in bed, staringup at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling, the ones that brought her joy no matter how silly some people might think them, she let herself hope that something real could come from this fake arrangement.
***
“—and the engineers want to know how the planets could be represented visually. Like, with emojis. I was thinking eggplant and peach beside Mars since that’s most strongly representative of action and sex drive. And a smoochy face and diamond ring next to Venus for values and— Elle?Elle.”
Elle blinked, tearing her eyes away from where she’d zoned out staring at the purple beaded curtain that partitioned off the private room inside Wishing Well Books from the public portion of the bookstore. Elle had had an in-person reading scheduled at five thirty and another at eight, so Margot had tagged along so they could get some prep work done for OTP between her appointments. “Sorry. Eggplants.” She frowned. “When did we start talking about dicks?”
Margot snorted and chucked her pen at Elle. “Let me guess, daydreaming about”—she swooned, draping herself over the arm of her chair—“Darcy.”
“Stop.” Elle lobbed the pen back at Margot where it left a fuchsia streak across her arm. Elle opened her mouth to argue, but paused. Anything she would’ve said to the contrary would’ve been a bald-faced lie. “Okay, yeah, I was.”
While Margot still wasn’t pleased with the circumstancesthat had thrown Darcy and Elle together, or how Darcy had behaved on their blind date, Margot had taken the stance that if Elle was happy, she was happy for her.
“Of course you were.” Margot set her notebook on the table between them beside the sage, cypress, and lemongrass scented pillar candle whose flame flickered softly in the dimly lit room. “What was it this time? The kiss? The jacket? The wine? Hernose?”
“All of the above?” Elle shot Margot a subdued smile and shrugged. “I just... I want her to like me. Is that silly? You probably think I’m being ridiculous.”
“Do I think you’re ridiculous for wanting the girl you like to like you back?” Margot tsked. “Of course not, Elle. I’m worried you might be playing with fire, but if you think this thing with Darcy, whatever it is”—Margot rolled her eyes—“is worth your time, then I support you. Although, speaking of time, have you given any more thought to how this is supposed to end?”
“I don’t know.” Elle plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her sweater, avoiding Margot’s too-perceptive stare. “Who’s to say this has to end?”
When Margot said nothing, Elle lifted her eyes, flinching at the way Margot’s entire face, from her furrowed brow to her pinched lips, screamed pity. “Elle—”
“Maybe,” Elle tacked on. “Maybe it won’t end. Maybe she’ll... we’ll...” She sank down in her chair with a sigh. “Just because it started out fake doesn’t mean it can’t become real, right?”
