Chapter 17

Giselle

Idrummed my fingers on the steering wheel, looking at the clock. I’d gotten here too early… November was quiet right now, barely past seven on a Saturday morning. I’d just been too antsy to get out the door and pick up Primrose, and seeing my father for work had me antsy enough without her being in the picture too.

There probably wasn’t a reason she’d been asking if I liked redheads. Or saying she liked tall, strong athletic girls. People. Whatever. Or maybe there was a reason, and it was just to embarrass me. Maybe she just wanted fries.

Or maybe I wasn’t imagining that we almost kissed, and I wasn’t imagining how flirtatious our conversations felt.

But it probably wasn’t that.

I got the last thing I needed, which was a text from Cass. Hey, Anna and I are going to Kayley’s place for a party tonight, coming?

I slumped back in my seat. I’d say yes, but I already have plans tonight! Hope you have fun, though.

She was typing immediately. work again?

Actually got invited yesterday to a different party tonight. guess it’s all happening tonight

She sent a facepalm emoji, and, it’s that primrose girl, isn’t it?

Something boiled up sharply in my chest, and I had to bite back the reply I wanted to send and just go with, yeah, Primrose and her friends

you shouldn’t hang out with those people

I gripped my phone tighter, breathing in slowly, out slowly, before I typed out a reply I regretted before I sent it. who are -those people- exactly?

She typed a few times before responding. don’t get mad at me. you know what I mean.

I don’t. That’s why I’m asking. Did Primrose do something?

forget it. do whatever you want.

Primrose had told me she was passive-aggressive. I didn’t let myself see it until then, but now it was everywhere. The world outside my phone stopped existing as I typed, Cass, I like you and I like her, and I don’t like when you make snide comments about my friends. Tell me honestly and directly what’s bothering you. This kind of snarky commentary isn’t like you.

The message marked as read, and then she went offline. It was a solid ten minutes of me sitting there with my blood boiling before she finally dignified me with a reply. you can feel whatever you want to. I don’t care.

I snapped, settling into texting with a heavy sigh. I don’t like when we do this. Please don’t contact me again unless it’s with an apology. I’m upset with you and I don’t feel like I recognize you anymore.

She replied with a facepalm emoji, and then, fine, I don’t care, and then—proving ever so well that she didn’t care—again two minutes later with, this is what I mean, that girl is rubbing off on you, and then apparently I was a masochist, because I kept watching them roll in. apparently any girl can get you to do what she wants if she bats her eyelashes at you, and then, enjoy your party, and right after, tell her I said hi.

I pulled up her contact and changed her name in my phone to “do not reply.” And it took everything in my goddamn power to put the phone down gently and not throw the fucking thing across the parking lot.

And what I did not need was the—undignified way I jumped when someone tapped on the glass, and I looked over with my heart in my mouth to where Primrose stood next to the car, her expression drawn tight with worry. I felt a little sick. How long had she been standing there waiting for me while I couldn’t see anything outside my phone?

I unlocked the doors and rolled down my window, trying to put on a smile as I put my hand to my chest. “Jesus, you about gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry. I just got here and I didn’t realize you were focusing on something until I was tapping the window scaring you to death.”

That soft, gentle tone in her voice said she knew full well how much I was boiling over right now. I didn’t want to be this around Primrose… I forced my smile harder. “Hop in. Glad to see I’m not the only one obnoxiously early.”

“I was cycling between thirty different outfits when I saw your car outside and figured that was my sign to stop overthinking it.” She stepped away from the window, and I took the opportunity to breathe while she walked around the car. Cass was somewhere else. That was a later problem. For right now, it was just me and Primrose for an hour before we really needed to go to the hotel.

Just me and Primrose. That was all I really wanted right now. Especially when she stepped into the car and I caught sight of her in a forest-green trench coat closed as a dress over dark tights, her hair pulled back into a simple but elegant twist—all subtle sophistication without being overly formal. And very, very attractive.

“You like the look?” She twirled a strand of loose hair around her finger. I didn’t realize I’d been staring… I looked away.

“It’s a gorgeous coat. I love that color on you.”

“Are you… okay? You sound so tense.”

“I’m fine. Do you want to go and get there an hour early?”

She sank across the center console and rested her head on my shoulder, and she slipped her hand down to squeeze mine, and—instantly, the anger boiling noxious in my gut settled down. One little touch from Primrose was all it took. I wish I could be surprised… “No,” she said. “I want to be here with you and help you feel better. What happened?”

“Ugh… I don’t want to bother you…” I should have pulled away, but my body betrayed me—I sank into her instead, resting my head against hers. She fit so perfectly against me…

“You’re never a bother.”

“It’s… it’s Cass. My friend, Cassandra, you met before. Well, I don’t know if I can say friend anymore.”

She squeezed my hand. “You had a fight?”

“Over text. Just before you got here. She was being snarky and passive-aggressive again, and I told her that wasn’t acceptable and to… not contact me again unless it’s with an apology.”

Primrose pulled away, turning to me with an incredulous look. “You told her that?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, looking away. “Uh-huh. And she gave me a bunch of snarky messages in reply.”

“Oh my god, Giselle, that’s so… brave of you.”

I snorted. “Brave… I’m just hiding from dealing with her anymore. She’s probably going to complain about me to my parents, and it’ll come back to bite me.”

She took my hand again, squeezing it, and the way she was looking at me like I’d done something amazing was kind of just… kind of making it hard to kick myself to death right now. “I mean, maybe it will. But that’s something to deal with later. What’s more important is that you set boundaries and said no and you’re sticking to it. I think that’s really impressive. Especially when it feels like it sucks so much.”

“Yeah, well…” I sighed, hard, scratching my head. “All it means is that I’m a shitty friend, because I’m kind of hoping she doesn’t apologize so that I can just stick to it and I don’t have to keep being on call for her, keep getting guilted over not helping her study…”

“You don’t have to be her friend if you don’t want to. Friendship should feel good to both of you.”

“Ugh.”

She shifted back across the center console and pulled me into an embrace, her head on my shoulder again, and it was embarrassing how much I’d already missed having her there. “I’m sorry it sucks. What can we do to make today better?”

“I need to grow up and deal with it, that’s what we need.”

“That’s overrated. How about we go get dessert for breakfast before the event instead?”

I paused. “You know? That actually sounds great.”

She squeezed me one more time before she pulled back, eyes sparkling. “Dessert for breakfast it is, then. I know a place… Ava likes it.”

“Oh, something she likes. That’s weird.”

“I know, right? It’s because it’s all sugar, and butter, and exactly what we need right now.” She had her phone out, typing the address into directions before I could even come up with any protest excuse about how she didn’t need to trouble herself for me, because… because she’d just say anyway that she was offering. And that it was okay for me to say yes if I wanted to, and I did want to.

Primrose put her music on for the drive, playing Florence and the Machine and mouthing along to the lyrics, and I wasn’t sure there was much more healing than that. Of course, I was summarily proved wrong—the tacky-cute diner place in a strip mall just outside of town, with the air smelling like cinnamon and pancakes as soon as we got inside, was even more healing.

And Primrose was a celebrity here, too, because the hostess with a frilly, branded pink apron lit up at the sight of us and turned to the back as she took out two menus. “Primrose is here! She’s got a date!”

“Uh—” I started, putting a hand up, but Primrose just laughed and pushed it back down.

“Let them get excited. They do this every time I come here with someone.”

Well… it wasn’t like I minded being Primrose’s date, but… we weren’t. Right? It was feeling increasingly like we were, but we… weren’t… I didn’t think so.

Jesus, I was a mess.

The waiter didn’t do anything to embarrass me, thankfully, and we got messy monkey bread that might not have been the best choice before a formal business occasion, but Primrose’s bright, shining face of delight when they brought it out was something I’d have ordered this for any day. We polished it off quickly, Primrose straight-up moaning when she ate it and me trying not to think about how she moaned, and we washed it down with cheap coffee that I could still taste a little once we were back out in the car, but no amount of trashy coffee could have killed the glow I had as we started for the hotel.

“Thanks,” I said, as Primrose was halfway to getting her music on again. She gave me an odd look, blinking fast.

“For the music?”

“Sure.”

“What? For what?”

I kept my gaze on the road ahead, trying to suppress a smile. “For the music.”

“Oh my god. Giselle! You have to tell me!”

I didn’t tell her.