is in my writing and the other half is in me, and if you have them both then you’ll understand everything. Strangers think it’s just a story, but you’ll know what’s real. You’ll know who I really am.”
She gave me a sidelong glance.
“Does that sound crazy?” I said.
“It sounds exactly like me. I have a confession, too. Armin hasn’t read my new stuff. Only you have.”
“How come?”
“He wouldn’t understand.”
“He’s actually pretty insightful.”
“Then maybe I don’t want him to understand.”
I swallowed. Why? I thought, but I already knew.
Blythe dug into her purse for a tissue. Dabbed her bloody knuckles, wiped her mouth ineffectually.
“You’re just making it worse.” I touched her wrist. “Here.”
I got it all except one stubborn spot. She smiled faintly and I decided, Fuck it. Licked my thumb and swabbed the blood from the corner of her mouth, pulling her lower lip open. My hand shook.
She stared me straight in the eyes. I couldn’t meet that stare.
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?” she said.
“Who?”
“Armin.”
I almost fell over. “Are you crazy?”
“You’ve been twitchy all week. Whenever I bring it up, you dodge the question.”
“I’ve actually been happy all week.”
“Then why do you look electrocuted when anyone touches you?”
Not anyone.
“Don’t lie to me, Laney. If my best friends are falling for each other, I have a right to know.”
“Can we stop talking about—” I began, then blinked. “Wait, what?”
Blythe sighed at the sky. “Christ. My life is a young adult novel.”
“Did you just say I’m one of your best friends?”
“You are my best friend, you twit.”
The planet tilted. Gravity shift. My limbs went ridiculously light, my body made of papier-mâché.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Blythe said. “It’s no big—”
I grasped her hand. “You’re my best friend, too.”
I thought she’d brush it off the way she usually did when things got serious, but she squeezed back, hard. It felt so good. So right. The whole summer was inside of us.
“Ever get déjà vu about people?” she said. “Like you’ve met them before, somewhere. Maybe in another life.”
“Yes.”
“It’s fucking weird.”
“It’s not. I feel like I’ve always known you, Blythe.”
That trademark smirk slanted over her mouth. “Maybe we were literary giants once. Grandiose and tragic, snuffed out before our time.”
“Like Scott and Zelda.”
“The Fitzgeralds. Bloody brilliant. Though if I end up in a sanatorium, it’s your fault.”
“What if I’m the crazy one?”
She gave me a droll, knowing look.
“I’ll never be as good as F. Scott anyway,” I said.
“Rubbish. You’re halfway there. You’re a self-loathing alcoholic. Now you just need money and talent.”
I shoved her away. “I’m never showing you anything,” I said, laughing.
Blythe threw an arm around my neck. “You will. Someday you’ll show me everything.”
Her face was closer than I realized, her breath warm on my ear. Her expression was gleefully devious but as I looked at her it cleared, steadied, and she returned my gaze a moment too long. My breathing felt strangely pronounced, as if it filled my whole body rather than my lungs.
I broke eye contact.
“Hey.” She touched my knee, her voice lower now. “No matter what happens between you and Armin, I’m your friend. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
God, how did she not see it?
“Nothing’s going on with me and him.”
“Right. That’s why you tell me to fuck off whenever I mention some bloke.”
“Maybe I don’t want some bloke,” I said impulsively. “Maybe I just want you.”
It was like I’d fired a gun. She suddenly looked at me. Really looked.
Everything went off balance again. Lights veered one way, sounds the other. My heart spun in my chest like a toy top. Her eyes danced back and forth, searching mine, her eyelashes glimmering and her
She gave me a sidelong glance.
“Does that sound crazy?” I said.
“It sounds exactly like me. I have a confession, too. Armin hasn’t read my new stuff. Only you have.”
“How come?”
“He wouldn’t understand.”
“He’s actually pretty insightful.”
“Then maybe I don’t want him to understand.”
I swallowed. Why? I thought, but I already knew.
Blythe dug into her purse for a tissue. Dabbed her bloody knuckles, wiped her mouth ineffectually.
“You’re just making it worse.” I touched her wrist. “Here.”
I got it all except one stubborn spot. She smiled faintly and I decided, Fuck it. Licked my thumb and swabbed the blood from the corner of her mouth, pulling her lower lip open. My hand shook.
She stared me straight in the eyes. I couldn’t meet that stare.
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?” she said.
“Who?”
“Armin.”
I almost fell over. “Are you crazy?”
“You’ve been twitchy all week. Whenever I bring it up, you dodge the question.”
“I’ve actually been happy all week.”
“Then why do you look electrocuted when anyone touches you?”
Not anyone.
“Don’t lie to me, Laney. If my best friends are falling for each other, I have a right to know.”
“Can we stop talking about—” I began, then blinked. “Wait, what?”
Blythe sighed at the sky. “Christ. My life is a young adult novel.”
“Did you just say I’m one of your best friends?”
“You are my best friend, you twit.”
The planet tilted. Gravity shift. My limbs went ridiculously light, my body made of papier-mâché.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Blythe said. “It’s no big—”
I grasped her hand. “You’re my best friend, too.”
I thought she’d brush it off the way she usually did when things got serious, but she squeezed back, hard. It felt so good. So right. The whole summer was inside of us.
“Ever get déjà vu about people?” she said. “Like you’ve met them before, somewhere. Maybe in another life.”
“Yes.”
“It’s fucking weird.”
“It’s not. I feel like I’ve always known you, Blythe.”
That trademark smirk slanted over her mouth. “Maybe we were literary giants once. Grandiose and tragic, snuffed out before our time.”
“Like Scott and Zelda.”
“The Fitzgeralds. Bloody brilliant. Though if I end up in a sanatorium, it’s your fault.”
“What if I’m the crazy one?”
She gave me a droll, knowing look.
“I’ll never be as good as F. Scott anyway,” I said.
“Rubbish. You’re halfway there. You’re a self-loathing alcoholic. Now you just need money and talent.”
I shoved her away. “I’m never showing you anything,” I said, laughing.
Blythe threw an arm around my neck. “You will. Someday you’ll show me everything.”
Her face was closer than I realized, her breath warm on my ear. Her expression was gleefully devious but as I looked at her it cleared, steadied, and she returned my gaze a moment too long. My breathing felt strangely pronounced, as if it filled my whole body rather than my lungs.
I broke eye contact.
“Hey.” She touched my knee, her voice lower now. “No matter what happens between you and Armin, I’m your friend. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
God, how did she not see it?
“Nothing’s going on with me and him.”
“Right. That’s why you tell me to fuck off whenever I mention some bloke.”
“Maybe I don’t want some bloke,” I said impulsively. “Maybe I just want you.”
It was like I’d fired a gun. She suddenly looked at me. Really looked.
Everything went off balance again. Lights veered one way, sounds the other. My heart spun in my chest like a toy top. Her eyes danced back and forth, searching mine, her eyelashes glimmering and her
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