Page 90 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Yes, and I took it too far. And I’m sorry. If I’d known you’d be this hurt, I wouldn’t have—”
“I’m not hurt. And I don’t need an apology. Gwen’s the one you hurt.”
“Sure. I’ll make sure to apologize to her, too, the next time I see her.”
I grimace. I hate the idea. I hate that I was jealous. I hate that I have no claim on Mike. I’m a nuisance. A buddy’s big sister to annoy and bait. Not a sex symbol. Not a fantasy. Not even a friend.
“The wheels are turning.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes. “You want to talk about whatever it is that is going on in there?” He gently touches my forehead.
Shakespeare ricochets in my head. A gorgeous couplet about touch. A line about jealousy. Phrases about romance. And Mike’s accompanying scrawl:Even a simple gesture changes when you’re in love. It settles in the heart and radiates out into the shoulders, down to the very fingertips, doesn’t it, Will?
I wince because I can’t imagine Mike penning the words without seeing his hands on Gwen’s shoulders. His lips against hers. My gosh, I could scream.
“Bea, if I’d known you cared—”
“I don’t. Not at all. Flirt, kiss, fawn over whomever you want.”
He frowns.
“It’s late,” I say. My body shivers. And cold. “I’m going to call it a night. I hope you and Gwen can work it out.”
“There is no me and Gwen.”
Oh? I pause.
“She loves a guy named Tony. She mentioned this in parting. Right before she bolted for the door.”
“No wonder you didn’t chase her.”
Mike puts his head in his hands and groans.
“Night, Mike.”
I should go home, but I’m too mad. Too hurt. And maybe I don’t want Mike to hear me cry.
So I walk back down the stairs and drive away. I drive, and the tears fall. I circle around La Jolla, up to Mount Soledad, but that’s a place for couples to sit and stare at the city lights. I drive down to La Jolla and park outside the library, and somewhere around four a.m., I run out of tears and fall asleep.
I can’t do it. I can’t do anything. I know this was supposed to be my year of everything. I know I claimed I wanted this, but right now what I want is to sink into an organic mix of cactus potting soil, grow roots, and complete my transformation from woman to plant.Here lies Beatrice Hero McKinney.Some plucky, winsome botanist can come along in fifty years and find me. A new species of cactus that has extra long, extra sharp spines and never blooms and is inedible and unwanted. Even the pollinating flies eschew it.
I’m still very much dealing with the fallout of last night when I step into the La Jolla Library as it opens. I slink into a chair, unshowered, unkempt, remnants of cosplay clinging to me. Smudged makeup. Matted hair. Odd footwear.
A librarian in a cardigan with embroidered strawberries on the collar approaches me. “Hi. I’m Linda. I want to welcome you to our library.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say as I scroll through my phone.
“I want you to know that this is a safe place.” Linda is clutching pamphlets. “We can help you find a hot meal or a bed for the night.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m not homeless. I just didn’t want to go home last night.”
Linda shuffles her pamphlets and is about to hand me one with a photo of a sad, scared-looking woman on the front.
“Stop. No.” I grab my bag to leave the library. “I’m fine. I’m going to walk dogs, and I’m fine.”
She backs off, but I don’t blame her. My life since yesterday evening—oh gosh. All night I tortured myself with shoulds. I never should have cosplayed. I shouldn’t have answered my phone when Adam called. I definitely shouldn’t have walked into Mike’s kitchen after four hours of back-to-back walks. But I wanted to prove that I was the type of desirable woman who getsphone calls. And I wanted to see him, and…then everything fell apart. Not just fell apart. Blew up.
And now I look like I’m in crisis. That’s why the kindly librarian approached me with handfuls of pamphlets. It’d be funny if I didn’t feel so sick about it.
Chapter 28
