Chapter 13

Primrose

Ugh, how embarrassing. Having a meltdown wasn’t like me.

I sat at the picnic table behind Mason Building, mostly shrouded away behind the tall, dark-leafed plants, only the dim light of a streetlamp spilling over the brick-paved plaza. I needed to get home, but… I couldn’t bring myself to look Ava or Matthew in the eye right now. Andrea probably would have joined the party right now too, and I couldn’t… I just needed a minute. I’d sat down at the first place no one would find me—dark courtyard squeezed in between dorm buildings, my head down, just breathing.

I knew Zachary. He was rough around the edges, and he didn’t hold back, but he wasn’t normally… wasn’t normally out for blood with no provocation like this. I just hated feeling like an outsider—like I was FIRE’s temporary worker at best, ready to be dropped at any second. I wondered if I’d get kicked out of the apartment with Ava. Wondered how I’d find a place then. Would they all just stop acknowledging me? The idea of walking past Ava, Matthew, Sooyeon, Randall, and they would all pretend I wasn’t there…

I heard footsteps tapping gently across the courtyard behind me, and I kept my head down—not drawing attention, just waiting for them to go—but I heard the absolute worst thing I could have heard right now.

Giselle’s voice. “Primrose?” she said, and it felt like my throat yanked tight on a zip cord. I couldn’t make contact with the target here, not like—“Hey… are you okay?”

I sucked in a breath, put on a nervous smile. If I was a sociopath, I’d at least do it right. I turned back and ducked my head towards her, smiling faintly. “Oh… hi there. Don’t mind me, I’m just hiding from someone I don’t want to talk to.”

She paused, giving me a studying look. She looked like she was coming back from the gym, dressed in leggings and an athletic tank with the university logo on it, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, sneakers with lilac accents. Late hour to be getting back from the gym, but I guess I wasn’t the competitive athlete here.

Finally, slowly, she sank down in the seat next to me, and I felt like beating my head on the table. I could not for my life let her know I was having a breakdown over my work breaking her heart right now. “I’ll, er… sit with you so they know you’re busy if they see you.”

I shifted awkwardly in my seat, looking down at my hands, folded on the table surface. I didn’t have a script prepared for this… didn’t know what I was angling for here. I was supposed to show up tomorrow morning after two full days’ absence and watch her practice. This was ruining the dramatic impact I’d sacrificed two entire days for. Still, I wasn’t going to offend her by leaving. “Oh… thank you,” I murmured.

She touched a hand, lightly, on my shoulder. Searching, like she was seeing if it was okay. “Primrose… is somebody hurting you? Making you feel unsafe?”

I swallowed before I turned back to her, flashing what I hoped was a silly smile. “I’m good, I, uh—” I stopped, scrunching up my face. My voice came out thick and hot, and I didn’t even realize I was crying until the worry in Giselle’s face spiked.

“Oh, Primrose,” she said, her voice the softest thing. “Oh… you’re crying. What happened?”

“It’s… it’s nothing,” I choked, ducking my head back down. Embarrassment burned hot in my face, but Giselle shifted closer to me.

“Hey… hey. Primrose. It’s okay to cry. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

I laughed, awkwardly, out of place coming thick through the tears. Couldn’t really imagine her reaction if I actually told her. But there was something about the way she said it, something about the way she sidled in next to me and held herself protectively over me that made me want to talk… some sort of instinct I couldn’t find it in me to suppress.

Maybe it was a strategic play on my part. I didn’t know. All I knew was that I turned and sank against Giselle, and I buried my face in her shoulder, and I pushed out a weak, “I don’t know if I should… talk about it, I mean—but—but if I can just cry on you for, like, one minute—”

“Primrose, please, cry for all the minutes you need. I won’t even count them. We’ll pretend it’s all one minute.”

I laughed, streaked with tears I didn’t know why I was crying so much right now, and I buried myself against her, crying with quick, sharp heaves of my chest. The narrow straps of her shirt were stained lightly with her sweat, and the soft skin of her shoulders on either side… she smelled sweet, somehow.

She wrapped her arms around me and held me into her—gentle but firm, not squeezing too tight but just enough it felt for a second like she’d never let go, and it was embarrassing how reassuring it felt. I gave up and let myself cry—sharp, prickly anxiety in my throat and my chest thinking about what would happen to my life if I got kicked out of FIRE, if I lost my home and my future and my entire community all in one blow—the weight of it hanging from a thread that could snap over my head at any moment, I cried it out. And I didn’t know how many minutes it was, but Giselle didn’t say anything, just stroked my hair back gently, a calming, reassuring gesture that felt like it put me back together.

It wasn’t until the acute pain of the tears eased up that the embarrassment really set in—this keen awareness that I wasn’t supposed to be like this with the target, wasn’t supposed to be feeling like she was putting me back together ever so gently when I was hurt. I took a long, shaky breath, pushing myself away, and the smile she gave me was sweet, disarming enough that it took some of the sting out of the self-consciousness of the moment.

“Sorry,” she said. “I probably smell gross. I just came back from the gym.”

“I’d just been thinking you smelled nice.” I scratched my head, looking away. “Actually, that feels weird. I didn’t say that.”

She laughed. “As long as I don’t stink.”

“Thank you…” I shifted, ducking my head. “I’m sorry. You’re probably so busy, rushing back home after—”

“There’s no place I’d rather be. Easy, okay? It’s important to have someone you can cry to.”

It was a flaming mess, all of this, but maybe I could salvage it last-minute. I took a long breath, and I hunched my shoulders, and I said, “I, uh… I’m really all right. Just… Matt and I kind of just broke up, so…”

I heard her breath hitch from next to me, and she put a hand on my back. “Oh, god, Primrose, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s my fault. I always… ask too much. Want too much. It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous, just… wanting somebody who feels sure about me… someone who actually cares and doesn’t just keep me around to have me there.”

My voice was thick with tears again, but hell, I guess it played into the act. The… was it an act? I didn’t fucking know. Giselle ran her hand in small, reassuring circles on my back, moving gently, just… soft. Comfortable. “That’s not too much to ask, Primrose,” she said, her voice low. “I think that’s what you should be able to expect in any relationship. I’m so sorry it didn’t work out…”

I shook my head hard. “It’s one thing to expect it at first, but when you screw something up and then you’re just… on tenterhooks waiting to see if they decide you’re worth keeping around… no matter how long it’s been…”

“People who really care about you don’t keep score like that.” She squeezed my shoulder, pulling me flush against her side. Guess she’d gotten comfortable with touching me after all… it was a win from the targeting perspective, but mostly I just wanted her to squeeze the parts of me back together again.

“That’s… that’s a pretty ideal, but that’s never how it works,” I said. “People have their feelings. And I can’t expect them to turn that off when I’m the one who… who screwed up.”

“What happened?” She brushed her thumb through my hair, small, gentle, repetitive motions that soothed the sharp, red-hot pain down. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Um…” I swallowed, shifting. “Just… a while ago… I, um—I had to do something important, and I… screwed it up. And our friend lost everything because of it… and ever since then I’ve just felt like I’m trying to make up for it, just—just hoping one day we can move past it, but it’s not like I can ever hope the past will change. It’s not like I can undo what I… did.”

“I’m sorry, Primrose.” She squeezed my shoulder. “You made a mistake. And it’s awful when our mistakes hurt people we care about, but it’s just… it’s just human nature, you know? We all do at some point or another.”

I found myself sinking into her side… this was working. All of it. Giselle was a giver. Giving her my vulnerabilities to help me grow through them would make her fall harder. That was all it was…

“Do you think so?” I said, my voice small.

“Hundred percent.” She ruffled my hair. It tickled a little, and I heard myself giggle. “You think I haven’t screwed up the same way? I do it all the time. You’d just told me the same thing the other day, when I felt bad I’d let down Cass…”

“That’s different.”

“Only to you, hotshot. We disappoint people sometimes. That’s life. I think we all deserve the people who forgive and forget real, honest mistakes.”

“You’re really nice…”

“I’m… getting you all sweaty, is what I’m doing,” she said, pulling away, tugging at the side of my shirt where she’d been squeezed against me. She laughed awkwardly, looking away. “Sorry, I’m probably smothering you.”

“I don’t mind. I’m kind of touchy-feely. I feel like you’re probably pretty tactile too.”

She scratched the back of her head, looking away. “I’m that easy to read?”

“I’ve just been paying attention… you keep moving like you want to but you’re nervous to. I’m not shy about touch.”

She made an awkward sound like a laugh, fussing with her bra strap. “Should I be embarrassed about how easily you’ve figured me out?”

I looked down, kicking at the pavers. “I think it’s mutual. You’re the only one who knows I’m… uh, you know, whatever I am.”

She relaxed, giving me a sidelong smile, and she just held it for a while before she said, “You’re… you’re open. Honest. No pretenses. I admire that… a lot.” She dropped her gaze. “Always wished I could be like that too, but… ugh…”

That open, honest thing again… it lanced through my gut, leaving a white-hot sear of guilt that I couldn’t afford to acknowledge right now. I wasn’t going to actually care what Giselle thought of me. God only knew I wasn’t replaying the Joshua Miller incident again, or me getting kicked out of FIRE would only be the first of what went wrong.

Then again, guess I had been open and honest with her. A lot more than I was supposed to.

I rested my head on her shoulder. She went suddenly rigid at attention, like she wasn’t sure how to hold herself, but I let myself be soft against her until she matched me. “Thanks,” I said, just under my breath. “I, um… I appreciate you. Being there for me.”

“I’m sorry about you and Matt…”

“It sucks. It hurts. And I hate it.” I drew in a long breath, letting it out slowly, counting the seconds. “But I’ll… I’ll be okay at some point.”

She paused. “Is there… anything I can do? To help?”

I kicked at the ground. “Compliment me.”

She laughed. “Um… you’re a very empathetic person who always knows the right thing to say.”

I nudged her in the side, just a little. “That’s smooth,” I laughed. “Had you already been thinking that and you’d just been saving it?”

She looked away, her cheeks lightly tinged pink in the low glow of the streetlight. “Hey, you asked for a compliment.”

“Can I, um…” I looked away. “Are you at the rink again tomorrow morning?”

“Mm-hm. Free practice tomorrow. I’ve got some time booked with the rink all to myself, before open hours.”

“I want to ask you something, but it’s probably too much…”

She nudged my side, mirroring my gesture. “You can’t say that, the curiosity will kill me. C’mon, let me hear it.”

I gave her a sheepish look sidelong. “You sure? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to say yes. I know you’ve got stuff on your plate.”

“Primrose. Please. Tell me. I’m dying.”

“Can you stop by my place in the morning and we can go to the rink together? I want to watch you practice… and get in a little practice too in open hours.”

She blinked fast, and she lit up, a big smile spilling over her features. “Sounds perfect to me,” she said. “I’d love nothing better. And I’ll do you one better—you can practice during my session too, as long as you stick to the edge so we don’t collide.”

I stopped, genuinely surprised when I guess I needed to act surprised too. “Are—are you sure? I wouldn’t want to get in your way. I know your practice is important to you.”

“I’ll teach you. Nothing helps you improve your fundamentals like teaching somebody else anyway. I like your passion about skating.”

“Oh—I couldn’t ask all that of you—”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

I felt my face prickle, looking away. “Oh my god. Well, that would genuinely mean the world. But I have to do something…”

“You don’t—”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“Primrose. I’m not asking you to cook for me.”

I grinned. “You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

She laughed, eyes sparkling. “Ah… well played. My favorite is an omelet. Spinach, peppers, mushrooms…”

“Oh, great. Ava hates mushrooms, but I love them.”

“Mm. Something new for Ava to criticize about me.”

“You’ll be in good company.” I stood up, stretching my arms out. “Then it’s a plan. Tomorrow morning, for breakfast and skating. Thank you so much for tonight… I really needed this.”

“Shall I walk you home?”

Coming back to my senses—this was perfect. She was getting comfortable offering things like that now. She was in deep.

“Just walking me?” I said, a hand on my hip. “I’m hurt this time, too, just emotionally. You should be carrying me.”

She quirked a smile. “I’m taking that as a joke. But if you ask again, I am taking it seriously and picking you up right here and now.”

I felt myself smile wider. “You just got back from the gym. No way you’re pulling it off after that.”

She did not hesitate—she stepped forward and stooped to sweep me up, and I heard myself squeal as my feet left the ground, latching onto Giselle as she picked me up effortlessly and started for the courtyard exit. I laughed wildly, arms wrapped around her, holding on.

“Oh my god—are you not tired after the gym?”

“Sure. Not so tired I can’t carry someone as tiny as you are.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I laughed, resting my head on her shoulder.

“Want me to stop?”

“No… just don’t drop me.” With my free hand, I sent a text off to Matthew, holding my phone behind her back.

bad news, darling, we broke up. new gf is carrying me back home tho