“Oh, I always loved John,” Akiko said with a sigh. “I bet he’s just the same.”
“He is the same, but also different,” Chloe said, unsure how to describe the change in him.
Elodie’s wails escalated. “Okay, the little dictator needs to be appeased, but keep me updated. Say hi to everyone from me, and just remember what Eleanor Roosevelt said.”
“ ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent’?” Chloe offered.
“No, she said, ‘If you sleep with the man for hire, use protection.’ ” They both laughed, then Kiko rang off and the air felt suddenly empty.
Chloe doubled back toward college. Of course she wasn’t going to sleep with Rob. Kissing him was one thing, but sex was an entirely different proposition. Was she attracted to him? Sure. Would it be good? If the kiss was anything to go by, then probably. She felt her cheeks heat, imagining it. But what if he ran out of charge at the crucial moment? Would there be bodily fluid? She rolled her shoulders, then looked up at the sky. She needed to reset, stay focused on her goals for this weekend. She was here to catch up with old friends, patch things up with Sean, then give him McKenzie’s script, all while trying to sidestep questions about her unimpressive life. Then on Sunday, she would go home, she would give Rob back to the robot shop, and life would go back to how it had been before. The thought made her feel a little sad, though perhaps that said more about her life than it did about her attachment to Rob.
When she got back to Lincoln, she strolled through to Chapel Quad, inhaling the familiar smell of cut grass. Being here felt like opening the pages of a beloved book. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she almost expected to seeher twenty-year-old self sitting on the cloister steps, watching her.
“You’re back,” the bright-eyed girl would say. “So come on, tell me, how did it all turn out?” And Chloe would pinch her lips closed. Better to say nothing than to ruin the girl’s hopes and dreams. What would she even tell her, if she could? To give Sean a chance? To give up on acting sooner, not waste her time? To beware of charming blond narcissists? Knowing her younger self, she probably wouldn’t listen anyway. Sitting down on the wooden bench outside chapel, Chloe twisted her Artemis ring straight on her finger.
Right here was where the Imp had started. The Imp, who’d made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had—made her feel cherished. He had set the bar for romantic gestures impossibly high. And yet he had also been a source of quiet confusion. Because when she was with Sean, she couldn’t see him that way. There’d been a disconnect between her body and her head. Why couldn’t she be attracted to someonesoperfect for her, who hadseenher, loved her, so fully? Was it possible they’d just had the timing wrong?
9
Ten and a Half Years Earlier
“John, you have to helpus,” Chloe pleaded, leaning over the keyboard in the music room, stopping him from playing.
John leaned back on the piano stool, flexing tired hands. “What do you two want?” he asked. He was dressed in his usual attire, gray tweed suit trousers with a white collared shirt and polished leather shoes. Some people made fun of his style, but Chloe thought of him as a leather-bound book on a shelf full of garish paperbacks.
“We can’t have Shakespeare without music, and we don’t have any music,” she told him.
“ ‘If music be the food of love…,’ ” Sean added in a grandiose voice, throwing a theatrical hand in the air, flicking a lock of hair backward.
“We’re planning a production ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream,” she told him. “We’re going to do it next term, outside, around college. We’d love your help.” Chloe pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in the spring?” John asked.
“Yes, summer is so overdone, and I love spring. It feels like the beginning of something,” Chloe said with a grin.
He bit his lip as though suppressing a smile, but then frowned. “No, I have a concert on Sunday,” he said firmly. “I told you, last time was the last time.”
“We wouldn’t need much. Nothing original, just a few bits of music for the woods, for the enchantment scenes,” Chloe said, batting her eyelids.
“This is how it always starts,” John said with a sigh. “Then before I know it, you’ve got me signed up for every rehearsal.” He narrowed his eyes at Chloe, but there was fondness there too. She knew he didn’t have time to spare as a music scholar, but whenever John was involved, it always took their production to a completely different level.
“We just can’t do it without you,” Sean said, closing the piano lid. “We won’t.”
“I’ll love you forever,” Chloe said. “Please, John.”
John let out a resigned sigh.
“I will meet you in the bar later to discuss it, but I’m not making any promises. Now, I need to practice.” Then he firmly reopened the piano lid and started to play. Chloe watched for a moment, in awe as his hands skipped across the keys and the glorious sound of Rachmaninoff filled the practice room. He made it look so easy.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He blushed ever so slightly but didn’t pause his playing.
“See you in Deepers at eight,” Sean said. “We’ll bring the script.”
John nodded, and they left quickly before he could change his mind. This was how it always played out between the three of them. John said no, Sean said, “Can we just tell you our idea,” and then by the time Chloe had pitched it, he was in. And once John was in, he was all in.
That evening, Sean and Chloe got to the bar early. They walked down to Deep Hall and passed the original Lincoln Imp, a weathered stone statue kept behind bars on an old stairway below college.
“I don’t like that freaky little guy,” Chloe said, nodding toward him.
