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“I mean it. The way she tracks and traps the adviser in the opening chapter reminded me of old espionage films. And it asks, how can a person be good when the entire system is corrupt? What does it make a person if they do bad things for the right reasons?”
“Wow. You really liked it?”
“Yes, and I want to see what happens next.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Her bed is comfortable, maybe more so than mine. Maybe it’s time for an upgrade. I’m starting to learn that Bee puts a lot of thought into what is most important to her, while the rest exists as a cacophony of noise surrounding her. It’s the strongest here in her room. Half-opened boxes are stacked, their contents dusting every surface of the room like fresh snow. At first glance, it looks cluttered, but I watch her move around with ease, arranging and rearranging items until she finds the right place.
Because heaven forbid anything be messy.
“Bee, I’ve thought about it a lot. I’m not sure I have a surefire way to help you. You’re capable all on your own. You just need to let go of your fear. Be okay with messing up. Like the rest of us.”
She stands, staring me down, determined and beautiful. “No.”
“No?”
“I mean, yes to messing up and all that, but no, I don’t accept that you can’t help me. You’ve already been helping me.”
“And how have I been doing that?”
“By forcing me to not creep around here and making me talk about everything.”
“Bee, I’m not going to force you to do anything.”
“No, you’re not. Not like that. I…” she huffs, her nose scrunched in frustration. “I only meant that it’s nice to be held accountable. Otherwise, I’ll just keep going round in circles and getting nothing done.”
I slide forward, catching her hand in mine. “Why does this scare you so much?”
She lets out a pained laugh. “How much time do you have?”
“For you? The rest of my life.”
Bee pulls her hand from mine, and my heart pounds between blinks.
“It’s just… Every cool thing I’ve done has been in secret. Did you know I spent my first year in Chance taking Italian lessons?”
I definitely did not.
“And for six months I had an eyebrow piercing, but then it got infected and I had to remove it. I once spent every day for three months playing pinball because the guy I was ghostwriting for had a game machine in his condo and refused to talk to me unless I beat his high score first.”
She starts to pace, and I have to dig my palms into my thighs to stop myself grabbing her, because if I touch her right now, I’m going to kiss her, and I want to see where this goes. She’s sexy as hell when she gets going.
“I’ve taken myself to dinner at fancy restaurants. I went skydiving for my birthday. Got a tattoo?—”
Now I stop her.
“Go back. What and where is this tattoo, and why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?” There’s no way Aiden knows, because he is stupidly proud of anything Bee does. He would have told me.
“Oh, um.” She stalls, turning pink. Fuck, I bet it’s somewhere sexy, like the inside of her thigh or the outside of her ribs, skimming the swell of her breast. “It’s nothing.”
Not to me, it fucking isn’t. But that’s a mystery for another day.
“So many secrets. What are you afraid of?”
“Disappointing people.”
It’s not the full answer. It can’t be. There’s no observable universe where Bee could be judged as less than incredible.
