Page 49 of Don't Be in Love

“James, are the Americans hypnotizing you? Writing subliminal messages into your journalism notes?” I ruffled the papers between us on the library table. The reflection of raindrops bouncing off the windows behind me slid against the notes.

He swatted my hand. “I just think it’d be fun. A conversation I had with Adelaide made me think of it. My mother agreed—wants to use it to celebrate the retail launch for Beverly now. We could make it a masquerade rather than some tacky costume party.”

“My presence is contingent on whether or not I have to handle caterers and mingle with your mother’s friends.”

“You don’t enjoy talking to Gretchen?”

“Is my sleeping during my conversations with her not obvious enough?”

“You could start drooling and shestillwouldn’t notice.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment to my looks or a hit at my acting skills …”

He rolled his eyes. “To answer your question though: no Gretchen and no hosting duties. But you do have to show up in a suit. A shirt included.”

“That wasone time. I didn’t anticipate on taking a nap in the middle of your mother’s Christmas party and waking up with my shirt missing. Whoever made those drinks was insane. And to be frank, I think you enjoyed it since you mention it so much.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. After a moment, when our laughter fizzed out down, he asked, “How’s tutoring with Addy going?”

Addy?Suddenly, there was a thick blanket thrown over the mood. I felt stiff but continued to write down the research Adelaide assigned me to look for.

“It’s good,” I replied.

“That’s good.” He nodded. “Have you guys been getting along?”

Getting along? Was she telling him we weren’t?

“Yeah,” was all I said before returning to my notes. I tried to ignore the heavy silence, but it was petulant, dancing on my tongue. I wanted to tell him how I was feeling. Howshemade me feel. Anxious. Admired. Agitated. Adored. Acknowledged. A complex canvas with layers of paint that couldn’t be traced back to their first brushstrokes.

I needed to hear that I wasn’t insane. Because the way my skin shivered as Victoria kissed me last night felt like the embodiment of loneliness. I walked home with a fishhook grip on my conscious, filled with guilt.

Guilt for caring for Adelaide. Guilt for not considering Victoria. Guilt for hoping she’d let me go.

I couldn’t navigate why I was feeling this way.

I had to tell him about everything that happened last night.

Then he spoke. “I hope it wouldn’t be awkward then if I asked Adelaide out?”

My pencil snapped. The lead flew across the table, leaving a short, thick line in my paper—proof of what he just said.

“Adelaide? I didn’t realize you were interested in her,” I said.

“I didn’t know if it’d make things weird, but I’ve been seeing her enough to know that there’s a correlation between her and my heart palpitations.” He laughed. It was small, focused on his lap where he picked the skin around his nails. “So you don’t mind then, since you guys are getting on well. I know Victoria’s back anyway so …”

If we were in the campus kitchen, I’d assume the shooting pain in my chest was from a fork pressed into my chest. But no. I leaned my head into my palm to stop the swaying and prepare myself in case this was some early-on heart attack. I’d sure provide a doctor with quite a bit of entertainment.

The cause of the attack, you ask?Best friend fancies the woman I’m dreaming about.

“Of course not. You should pursue her,” I said. I didn’t recognize my voice.

“You’re sure?”

I nodded.

“Alright, I will then.” He leaned back as if he was preparing to get up and ask her this second. But he sat forward and restored the steadiness of his voice. “Now that that’s over with, what’d you do last night?” he asked.

I paused.