I raise my eyebrows at her. “You get off on your own sex scenes?”
“Don’t you?”
I laugh. Loud. Shake my head. “No.”
“Never?”
“Well, sometimes. But I don’t like… stop writing to masturbate.”
“Oh.” She fans herself. “Lucky you. I turn myself on so hard sometimes I lose a whole afternoon.”
“You do not.” I giggle.
“I swear to God. Sometimes Camille has to come over here and shake me out of it.”
“Sicko,” I say.
She shrugs. “You should try it.” Then she blushes unexpectedly and says, “I’m really glad we all got back together yesterday.”
“Yesterday, Jesus. How has it only been one day?”
“Feels like you never left,” she says, closing the small space that separates us to wrap her hand around my arm. “And I really hope you stay, Kiera. I mean that. This… whatever it is we’re doing. I love it already. I want things to be like this for a while. Maybe even a long while. And I’m excited to see Louise. Aren’t you?”
“I dunno,” I say, slipping out of her grip to walk forward to the windows. I press my forehead to the cold glass and look down at the street below. Maybe this is too much change for me? Things seem to be moving forward pretty fast and I’ve always thought of myself as a girl stuck in the past. That’s why I live where I do. That’s why I don’t have to go to the library or the coffee shop down the road for internet, that’s why I don’t mind not having cell coverage or even a TV. That’s why I listen to old records like Bennett.
Hmmm. I get lost in that realization for a second. Bennett and his Victrola and all those old records. Did I steal that from him?
“Shit.”
“What?” I ask, not turning to look at her. Because I’m second-guessing everything and I hate it. Why do I always do that? I always withdraw when things go fast. Why?
“We forgot the book. I wanted to read it today.”
“We don’t need to read it, Sofia. We know what it says.”
“Do we?”
I turn to look at her. “Of course. We know how it ends, at least. With us breaking up and going our separate ways.”
She shrugs. “Maybe whoever wrote it gave us a HEA?”
“I don’t see how,” I say, a little bit of annoyance leaking out in my tone. “It was one of us and we’re not HEA kind of people.”
“Speak for yourself,” she says. And now she seems annoyed. “HEA is my job. It’s yours too.”
“Yeah, but you write the kind of story that leads to an HEA. Mine are dark. And most of the time I just want to kill them at the end.”
“What?” She giggles. Like this was a joke.
“For real. I hate writing happy endings. Hate it.”
“Why? That’s the best part.”
I shrug. “Not for me. I like the crisis myself. I like that moment when everything is so hopeless and I know my readers are getting pissed off.”
“Hmmm,” she mumbles. “You’re kinda weird, you know that, Kiera?”
I nod. “I know.”
We’re quiet for a little while after that. I turn back to the window and press my head on the cold glass. Watching the little people down below. Thinking up stories about them.
“You see that lady?” I say, breaking the silence. Sofia is close, but not right up against the window like me. “That one with the red knee-high boots?”
Sofia takes two steps and looks down. “Yeah.”
“Who wears boots like that in the fucking snow? I bet they’re like four-inch heels.”
She huffs. I think it’s a laugh but I’m not a hundred percent sure. “New Yorkers. They’re probably leather too,” she adds.
“Yeah, and by the time she gets to the first-date dinner she’s all dressed up for they’ll be ruined.”
“But her date… he’s super rich. Like Hayes.”
“And weird,” I add.
“Super weird. But in a kinky way. And he insists on buying her a new pair. Like immediately. Before they even have dinner.”
“Because he’s a controlling asshole and needs her to be perfect if they’re gonna dine together in the Corinthian restaurant.”
“No.” She laughs. “Because he’s worried that her feet are wet and cold.”
I snort.
She grips my arm again. Leans into me. Rests her head on me. Sighs. “We’re gonna be OK.”
I turn my head. Slowly. Look at her. See those amber circles in her eyes. “You sure about that?”
She nods.
“Because I don’t think we are. I think we’re a bunch of very fucked-up people and it’s all downhill from here.”
“It’s not,” she says.
But she’s wrong.
Everything is wrong. Connor showing up with that book. Letting him stay the night and fucking him. Hayes appearing in a helicopter and taking us back to that crazy mansion. Emily. Just the fact that she was there. That whole hide-and-seek game she played was just the cherry on top.
And then last night, of course. And today.