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“You let her out alone?” Jules asked.
Amelia shrugged. “She can’t kill anyone, I’m pretty sure. And she’s alright at this. She was always better at art than I was.”
“I’m not sure spray tanning counts as art.”
“You’re a sour-puss this afternoon,” Amelia said.
Jules sighed and leaned on the bar. Was she really going to say this? She told Amelia most things in her life, if not everything. But this, this was liable to provoke a reaction that she wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with right now.
“Come on, out with it,” Amelia said, looking stricter now.
Fine. Jesus. Putting it into words was… weird.
“Billie Brooke kissed me.” There. She’d said it, made it all real and put it out into the universe.
“Huh,” was all Amelia said.
“Huh? Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Huh, I didn’t know Billie Brooke was gay,” said Amelia and then thoughtfully took a sip of her beer.
“Nothing else?” prompted Jules.
“Well,” said Amelia slowly. “You’re attractive, I mean you’re my sister and a pain in the arse quite a lot of the time, but I suppose that some people might view things differently.”
“Thanks very much!”
Amelia shrugged. “You’re welcome. So Billie Brooke plays for your team. I’d never have guessed.”
“What? She doesn’t look gay enough?”
“Are you supposed to look gay?” Amelia asked looking confused. “I just meant that I’d never really imagined her with anything other than a violin. Still, she’ll be lucky to have you.”
“Lucky to have me?”
Amelia looked even more confused now, frowning. “Wait, you mean you’re not… Ah, she kissed you and, um, wait.” She swallowed, straightened up. “Did she force you to do things? I swear to god I’ll—”
“Jesus, no, Am, no, nothing like that.”
Amelia puffed out a breath. “Don’t frighten me like that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply… I mean it wasn’t non-consensual, just surprising and, well, and…”
“You’re not interested?”
Jules opened her mouth to answer but couldn’t force any words to come out.
“You are interested?” Amelia asked.
Jules opened her mouth again, this time emitting some kind of grunt that really could have gone either way.
“Ah, you’re the Schrodinger’s cat of interested.”
“What do you know about Schrodinger’s cat?” Jules said. “And it’s not that, it’s just… complicated. I mean, there’s Alea to think of.”
“Alea with whom you’ve not actually ever had a date with?” asked Amelia.
“There’s… I mean… I…” Jules ended up groaning and putting her face in her hands.
