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Chapter 11

Giselle

Cass gave me a skeptical look as I sat down at the table with her, the plaza bustling with activity all around us. I thought I’d try diffusing whatever tension we had right now for some reason.

“Hey there,” I said. “I love that shirt. I haven’t seen it in ages.”

She narrowed her eyes like I’d just said completely incoherent rambling, looking down at her shirt and then back at me. “Thank you…?”

Well, that went well. I hated this awkwardness that had settled between me and Cass lately. “How was the exam?”

“Good, yeah. No problem. How are things with your new girl?”

I hung my head. “Oh, for crying out loud. Not you, too, Cass. We’re not dating. She’s just a friend.”

“She feels trashy. I swear she’s trying to get something out of you.”

Maybe queer company? But I wasn’t entertaining the thought right now. Primrose last night, after we’d finished dinner, laughing over the littlest things and positively glowing as we got back in my car, and the way she’d hugged me at the entrance to her complex and lingered for just a second too long—the way I’d hung out in the car just staring out the windshield long after she’d left—I was trying so hard to leave those thoughts behind.

If my fumbling performance on the rink for practice this morning was any indication, I wasn’t doing too hot.

“She’s not trashy,” I said. “She’s perfectly lovely. And she’s not hitting on me, she has a boyfriend.”

She lifted her nose slightly, raising her eyebrows. “Aren’t all the gay people polygamous these days anyway?”

“What? Cass.” I scowled, leaning in and folding my arms on the table. “You know that’s not true. What’s gotten into you?”

She sighed, looking away. “I’m just saying, that doesn’t mean she’s not trying to get something from you.”

I just stared at her, waiting for her to buckle. Finally, she hung her head.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being polygamous anyway, I guess.”

“I think the term is polyamorous anyway. Polygamous is when you marry multiple people.”

“Okay, same difference.”

“Seriously, what’s eating you?”

She sighed, checking her phone. “It’s nothing. Just in a bad mood lately, I guess.”

I shifted on the seat, feeling the stone bench cold under my pants. “You can tell me, you know.”

“My parents are pissing me off,” she muttered. “Mom’s been complaining about my major and telling me I’ll never get a good job. Telling me I shouldn’t have stopped doing dance. Like, hello? Who’s the one who told me to stop?” She shook her head. “And Dad’s no better. I never even talk to him unless it’s for him to complain I have no work ethic.”

I softened. “Your parents are a piece of work…”

“Well, talk to them yourself. They like you plenty.”

I sighed. “They don’t like me, they like my parents, and they’ve been set on assuming since I was a kid that I’m my parents’ clone.”

“Okay, whatever. Can we study now? Please?”

“Of course, yeah. Congratulations on the test going well.”

She rolled her eyes. I didn’t want it to sting so bitterly, but I guess I could only control my own feelings so much.

I hated putting myself out there for people sometimes. I didn’t know why I tried. Except… well, except that it was really nice sometimes.

I needed to start a stopwatch to see how long I could go without thinking of Primrose. I didn’t even need a good one. Wouldn’t matter if it couldn’t count above five minutes.

I tried to spend the day focusing on work—helping Cass with her studies and then running, meeting the group I was tutoring in the Calvin Math and Science Building, and then rushing to make my last class for the day on the opposite end of campus. I got out of it drained and worn, and I was almost tempted to skip the ceremony tonight, until I checked my phone and had my heart jump at the sight of a text from Primrose. I stopped under the tree in front of the redbrick structure of the building, sitting on the bench by the twisted-metal modern-art sculpture, and I tried to look normal and not like I was this excited to hear from a girl as I opened her text.

A picture—a selfie of Primrose in the cafeteria waving to the camera, Ava sitting next to her and giving the camera a dirty look, and Primrose’s boyfriend Matthew on the other side of the table looking like he didn’t even notice he was in a picture. wish you were here! bet you’re jealous of these cheap noodles.

I loved the way she just lived. And shared it with me. I texted back feeling a silly smile on my face. I’m actually starved enough I’d even eat the cafeteria noodles rn!

She replied right away. Had she been waiting to talk to me? not saying you should come join us, but you should come join us

I fought down a silly smile as I replied. and sit there and get insulted by Ava all day?

i can whack her if she tries!!

really though I’d love to, but I’m attending a ceremony soon…

what ceremony??

I chewed my cheek, wondering the least annoying way to say it. honors society awards ceremony. my friend is getting an award, and I’m showing up for him.

ohhhhh is that the one happening in the fine arts building for some reason?? i’d heard about that but i didn’t know you were a competitive athlete AND an honors student, and then right after, as if I wasn’t dying enough already, you’re really the full package, huh??

I let out a long, slow breath, closing my eyes and counting to ten before I responded. frankly idk why the honors society let me in. probably meant to invite someone with a similar name.

Her reply read me for filth. tell me your gpa right now. it’s 4.0 isn’t it

I stood up, feeling lighter, refreshed for the conversation. it’s an okay gpa. And then got to go now, but I’ll talk to you later!

She sent back see you soon, I hope with a red heart at the end, and I swallowed hard before I put my phone away, starting down the winding stone path for the Fine Arts building, trying not to think of that awkward, cold atmosphere between Primrose and her boyfriend. Did she really even like him? Did he really even like her?

And—what, was I hoping they’d break up? Let me have Primrose? I had no idea I was even capable of being such a gross asshat.

The ceremony was small, but nicer than I’d thought—Steven Horowitz had gotten a bigger budget into this than I’d expected, with food and drinks and everything, the reception hall dressed up nicely. I walked and talked with the finance and economics faculty and post-graduates who were gathered in the room—sort of an even split of who wanted to talk to me and who wanted to talk to my father’s daughter—and when they had us seated and called names for awards, I was the first one up, walking to the sound of applause up to the front of the room, where the dean smiled so the pockmarked apples of his cheeks popped out, and he handed me the sleek glass plaque with my name on it.

And it was on the way back to my seat that I almost tripped off the stage at the sight—at the back of the hall, clapping for me with a knowing smile on her lips, Primrose.

I sat antsy for the rest of the procession, my heart beating fast, feeling her eyes on my back, and when the procession ended and we got back out of our seats, I barely had to turn around before Primrose was on top of me, her hands on her hips.

“Congratulations to your friend getting an award,” she said, her voice pointed.

“What are you doing here?” I laughed, my voice awkward, face burning. She rolled her eyes.

“Cheering for you? I looked the thing up when you mentioned it, and lo and behold, who’s the first person it lists getting an award?”

I looked away.

“It mentioned a certain kind of grade record too, by the way.”

“Ah…”

She laughed, stepping in and giving me a quick hug. She was wearing perfume today… just enough I only noticed when she hugged me, but it was a bold scent, something almost spiced about it. “Congratulations, Giselle.”

I was so awkward and… squishy, I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. Thank god I got an award—at least gave me something to hold. “You didn’t need to…” I shrugged. “I mean, this kind of thing is just lip service anyway, it’s not really a big deal.”

Her face fell, a look equal parts sad and serious in her eyes. “Giselle—of course it’s a big deal. You worked hard in your classes and a million things outside your classes, and this is people recognizing what you’ve put in. And it’s rare. Do you know how many people get this kind of recognition?”

I swallowed, looking away, shifting like I didn’t know how to stand normally anymore. “I don’t know… a few.”

“It’s a big deal. So I wanted to see it happen. Because you’re my friend.”

Every part of me wanted to push it away, brush it off, reject it—minimize the praise—but at the same time I’d always ached for this exact thing. Not even having it come from a beautiful woman, just… hearing it.

Although it did help that it was a beautiful woman.

And it would be rude to Primrose to keep arguing with her, anyway. So awkwardly, nervously, I smiled at her, and I pushed out a, “Thank you, Primrose. I appreciate your support. And your friendship.”

She gave me an impish smile. “Could be more than my friendship,” she said lightly, and my heart missed about three beats in a row.

“Um… what do you mean?”

“I mean, could be everybody’s. If you have time. Come hang at my place tonight, we’re having a little party, you can meet my friends.”

Right. More than her friendship, not more than her friendship. I had to get my head on right.

She really was just giving me her world. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was almost a little… too easy? I couldn’t help thinking of what Cass had said—that Primrose was trying to get something from me.

So it went against all my senses, against everything I wanted, but I said, “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m really busy tonight…”

Primrose’s face fell, but she perked up again right after. “I get it. You’ve got a million things going on. Still, if you ever want to another time…” She took a step back, looked down, shy again now. “I mean… forget it. I know I come on strong. It’s the same thing as with hobbies, new interests. I’ll give you your space, okay?”

“Oh—Primrose, I wasn’t trying to…”

She met my gaze again, forcing herself to smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a quiz on Thursday and an essay due Monday, so I really need to be working anyway. Um… thanks for last night, though. And congratulations again on your award. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

She left before I could really say anything, but—mostly because what was there even to say? I hated myself a little watching her go, and I thought maybe I could just text her and tell her hey sorry I’m just nervous and keep feeling like the other shoe is going to drop, I would actually love to go meet your other friends too if you’d still have me there. But I was like some kind of anti-Midas, and I turned everything I touched into awkward, stilted half-friendships.

But at least I had a cool award.

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