‘No,’ I said, too quickly. ‘That’s all right.’
I stood up the back at the Necklace Ceremony, as deep in the shadows as I could possibly conceal myself. ‘I’m sorry, Naya,’ Romeo-Dylan said, ‘but your heart isn’t the other half of mine.’
Lily was in silver tonight, a long dress with a fringed hem that swished around her ankles. Rhinestone pins held back her hair, dotted all over her head like little stars. Her lips were curled in that cat-that-got-the-cream Lily Fireball smirk.
It hurt, looking at her. Every single part of me ached.
I’d spent the past three and a half weeks trying to reconcile two different versions of Lily, trying to make Lily Fireball make sense in the context of Lily Ong. It all made sense now, in its own strange way – but it only made things worse.
And there were still two Lilys.
There was the Lily I’d always known. The Lily who was just like me. The Lily I would trust with my life, the one who was in total control, playing twelve-dimensional chess.
Then there was the Lily who was lost. The Lily whohadlost. The Lily who had let the stray thoughtThank god it wasn’t Murray, thank god I didn’t lose Murray, I couldn’t survive losing Murrayslip through her defences. The Lily who had been panicking ever since.
The Lily who loved me, and had decided to burn everything down as a result.
It was a dream. It was a nightmare.
I loved her too. Unbearably. Enormously.
But if I took her up on this – on this thing that I wasn’t even sure she was offering! – then I would go from morally grey to the worst man alive. Nothing about any of this indicated she was in her right mind, let alone in a position to commit to the serious romantic relationship she’d been so adamant in refusing six years ago.
I tramped across the grass towards the trailer village in the grey light of pre-dawn after a long night in the war room, icy dew soaking the bottom of my pants. Once the initial shock wore off and my brain started working again, I was going to have to make a plan. I dug in my utility belt, finding three pens and an emergency-horny-contestant condom before I finally closed my fingers around my keys, my mind somehow both blank and racing, trying to figure out where I would even start.
The light in my trailer snapped on. Lily was sitting at the table, Greg’s bottle of whiskey open in front of her.
‘If you ever look at me again the way you looked at me tonight,’ she said coolly, ‘I’ll fucking kill you, Murray.’
I paused, hand poised above the kitchenette counter, about to drop my keys.
‘Don’t think I didn’t see you, hiding up the back of the Necklace Ceremony,’ she snarled. ‘Don’t think I didn’t see you, looking at me like some poor broken toy.’
‘Lily—’
‘Shut up.’
She took a swig of whiskey. ‘Just because I’ve been going through some shit doesn’t mean I’m suddenly some fragile little porcelain dolly who needs to be babied. I told you I wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, and I meant it. Don’t you dare look at me like that ever again.’
I put my keys down, harder than necessary. ‘Do you really expect me not to be worried about you?’
‘You can worry all you want. But I’m a grown woman in control of her own mind and her own actions. I am not a problem for you to solve.’
She rose to her feet. ‘Yes, I’ve spent most of the last year being very, very sad. Yes, I’ve been experiencing more complicated emotions than I am comfortable with. Yes, my coping mechanisms have been a bit left of centre. But I am still an adult, and I am still competent and capable and in control.’
‘I never said you weren’t.’
‘You didn’t have to. Your face did.’
She crossed the trailer, three steps bringing her directly in front of me. She looked dead into my eyes. For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me again.
‘Move,’ she said. ‘This is a big episode for me. I’m getting eliminated. I need my beauty sleep.’
I moved.
After she left, I collapsed into the chair she’d been sitting in. Jesus fucking Christ.
I took a swig of my own from the whiskey bottle. The level hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d drunk some. Clearly Lily had been using it mostly for dramatic effect, rather than liquid courage.
