Chapter Twenty-Six WILLOW

I can’t stop thinking about what Rhett said to me before my brother showed up. It felt as if he poured his heart out to me, his words raw and his voice hoarse. Like it took everything out of him to make that confession, but he was still brave enough to do it.

The look on his face when he said it is embedded in my memory. The way he watched me, never looking away once. No one has ever spoken to me like that before. Ever.

He was dead serious, and while I sit here and get all dreamy over his romantic declaration, I know deep in my soul that I’ll have to reject him yet again. Westscott won’t stand for it.

“You’re in a weird mood,” Iris calls from the bathroom as we’re getting ready for the game together in her room.

“What do you mean?” I’m standing in front of her full-length mirror, checking my outfit. Jeans and a Lancaster Lions T-shirt I picked up in the student store earlier today and white Chanel sneakers on my feet because my mom gave them to me for my birthday this summer and I rarely wear them, which makes me feel guilty. She’ll be here tonight, so she’ll see them and that’ll make her happy.

“You seem completely distracted.” Iris emerges from the bathroom and I turn to face her. “Sometimes I don’t even think you’re paying attention to what I’m saying.”

Busted. I’m not. She’s been keeping up nonstop chatter since she took her shower and opened the door to let the steam escape once she was finished. I told her all about Alana and Silas’s fight that I overheard, and how Silas chased after me. How Rhett told him to back off. That earned major points in Iris’s eyes.

“Please tell me you’re not considering trying to make a go for Silas again, are you?” Clad in only her underwear, Iris goes to her closet and yanks a navy Lancaster Prep crewneck sweatshirt from a hanger and tugs it on over her head. “And don’t accuse me of sending you mixed messages. I swear I will never try reverse psychology on you again.”

“Good, because that was dumb.” I shake my head. “And no, I’m not interested in Silas. Not after I heard what Alana said.”

And what Rhett said to me, too. Not that I’ve mentioned it to Iris. I swear I’ll tell her someday, but right now, I need to savor the moment for myself. I don’t want anyone else’s opinion on Rhett interfering with my own thoughts. I need to make this decision on my own. Not with Iris’s input because I have no clue how she might respond.

“Who knew wimpy Silas had it in him to cheat?” Iris grabs a pair of jeans and settles on the edge of her bed, pulling them on. “I didn’t think he was the type.”

“I agree. He’s always been so quiet. Almost shy.”

“Those are the ones to watch, I guess. Sneaky.” Iris’s gaze drops to my feet. “Chanel, Willow? So fancy.”

“Says the girl wearing a Cartier necklace,” I throw back at her. I kick out my right foot. “My mom gave me these.”

“They’re cute. Your mom has always been a Chanel devotee.”

“It’s my dad’s fault. He sent her all of those lipsticks.” Back when they were seniors and going to this school. He knew then. I’ve heard the story countless times, noted the glow of nostalgic love in his gaze every time he tells it. When I was little, I loved that story because he played up the fact that Mom didn’t like him. I thought that was funny.

But now … I think about me and Rhett. How I didn’t like him much either at first, and how he’s worn me down.

We don’t know each other well enough that I’m expecting declarations of undying love, and I don’t want them because it’s just way too soon, but I …

I want to go on a date with him. Spend time with him just one on one. Get to know him better. I’m fairly certain he wants the same thing. So what’s holding us back from each other?

Me. And what Westscott said. I should just tell Rhett. He might get mad, but he deserves to know the truth. I should tell my parents too. I’ll have my opportunity tonight. My dad will be furious and probably want to come at the headmaster, but Mom will tell him to calm down. I’m sure once confronted, Westscott will play off our conversation as one big misunderstanding and all will be well.

A girl can dream.

“I just want to make sure that you’re not down in the dumps over Silas. He’s not worth one ounce of your thoughts. He’s nothing but wasted emotion.” Iris goes to her vanity and sits on the chair, yanking open a drawer and pulling out a bunch of makeup. Not that I have any room to talk. We both own so many products and cosmetics, we probably look like a Sephora store. “I need to look good tonight.”

“Why? Are you trying to look good for someone in particular?” I’m teasing her, but she lifts her gaze to mine in the mirror, her expression serious.

“I never did confess my little story to you.”

With the drama from Alana and Silas and then Rhett’s heartfelt confession, I sort of forgot all about her cliffhanger moment. “Oh my God, you didn’t. I need all the details. Now.”

“Well …” Her gaze drops from mine and she focuses on piling up a little mountain of cosmetics on top of the vanity counter. “I, um, hooked up with someone this summer. And then I promptly ghosted him.”

I’m frowning, my mind scrambling, but I can’t come up with a face, let alone a name. “Who?”

“You know him. Very well.” She plucks an eyebrow pencil from a cup and starts filling in her brows. They’re a golden blonde and she likes to darken them. I’ve told her time and again to just get them tinted, but I’m veering way off topic here. “He goes to this school. I sort of hate him, but not really.”

Realization dawns. “Oh my God, Iris. Is it …”

“Brooks,” she supplies for me. My jaw feels like it dropped to the floor. “He’s really good with his hands. That’s all I’m going to say.

My mind is literally blown. I settle heavily on the edge of her bed, staring at her while she goes about putting on her makeup like she didn’t just rock my world with her confession. “Brooks?” I finally ask. “Really?”

“Is it that far-fetched?”

“No.” I shake my head. It actually makes all the sense in the world. “You’ve never given me any inclination that you’re interested in him.”

“Because I never was. Brooks is always just … there, you know? We’ve gone to school with him for a long time. I always thought he was nice, but I never looked at him and thought, ‘yeah, I want him to get me off with his fingers in my panties for seven nights straight’, which is exactly what happened.” Her tone is so matter of fact, as if she’s talking about the weather.

“Seven nights straight?” I ask weakly, still trying to wrap my head around this.

“It was magical.” A wistful sigh leaves her and she immediately shakes her head, like she’s trying to rid herself of every romantic thought she has in regards to Brooks. “And then I ignored his texts, which means he of course sent me countless messages. He was relentless, but he eventually stopped and now here we are. Pretending it never happened.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. Brooks Crosby is a big deal.” Iris has covered her face with countless dots of foundation and now she starts vigorously blending it into her skin with a brush. “His family is powerful. Political. The perfect match for a Lancaster. My parents would be thrilled to know I’m dating Brooks.”

“But you’re not dating him.”

“No, and I won’t. A week-long affair is all we’ll ever be. Isn’t that romantic?” Another sigh leaves her and I swear her disappointment is a living, breathing thing in the room. I can feel it swirl all around us, but I’m guessing she doesn’t have a clue, which is kind of funny. Silly Iris.

“Why are you trying to look extra good for him tonight then?” I’m curious as to her motive.

“To make him want to eat his heart out and see what he’s missing.” She rolls her eyes at me in the mirror’s reflection, but I don’t take offense.

“You’re the one who ghosted him.”

“Right, but since senior year started, he’s completely avoided me and pretends that week never happened.”

“I’m sure he acts that way because you ghosted him,” I repeat with extra emphasis this time around. “He’s just following your lead by pretending nothing happened.”

“I suppose so, but I don’t know. Maybe I made a mistake. I should’ve kept it up with him. Wouldn’t an illicit affair be so much fun right now? Sneaking around, praying no one catches us? Feels dangerous.” Iris’s eyes gleam. “I like danger.”

She’s terrifying when she talks like this. If I ever killed someone by accident, she would be the first person I call to help me bury the body. She’d agree with no hesitation.

“Doesn’t Taylor Swift have a song called that? Illicit Affairs? That should be my new theme song.” She grabs her phone and scrolls Spotify, a song starts seconds later and I realize it’s the very song she just mentioned, which is on my favorite album, Folklore. “Ooh this is moody. Fitting since I’m in a mood and so are you.”

“I told you, I’m not in a mood.” God, I’m in a total mood, but I don’t want to tell her why. If she can keep secrets, so can I.

“Fine, whatever. Keep living in denial.” She faces the mirror once more and starts applying blush to her cheeks. “Are you going to wear makeup?”

I shrug. “I’ll put on some mascara. That’s it. Oh, and lipstick.”

“So bare faced.”

“I don’t have a man to impress.”

“Right. Sure, you don’t.”

What Iris said only a moment ago really hit home. An illicit affair. Sneaking around and how fun that can be. Maybe that’s what I can do with Rhett, at least at first. We can build up to being public by taking our time and seeing each other without anyone knowing. It’ll be difficult, but I think it’s possible.

Will Rhett want to do that though? He doesn’t seem like the type to hide much. He’s very upfront with his feelings so I assume he’d almost be offended by my suggestion.

Guess it’s the chance I’ll have to take.

“Are you going to talk to Brooks tonight?”

“Absolutely not.” Iris smiles. I think she enjoys torturing him. “That’s why I want to look as beautiful as possible, so I can torture him and make him regret every single one of his life choices.”

“Oh, Iris. You’re beautiful no matter what. I’m sure he’s completely smitten with you.”

“Smitten? I like that word. So old-fashioned.”

“You know me. I’m always full of nostalgia.”

“Romanticizing your life, bestie? I know you’re all about that too.”

There’s nothing romantic about keeping my feelings and thoughts about someone all bottled up inside, is there?

Hmm. Maybe there is.