Page 223
“I’m fine.” I try to give a bright smile, but even I can see how false it looks in the bathroom mirror.
“Bea.” She comes to stand on my other side, and the three of us are in the mirror together, and I am— God, I’m not going to cry in a club bathroom.
Oh wait, I totally am.
At least it’s not full-on bawling, just two or three tears that I catch immediately with the back of my wrist, but Sydney sees them and makes a small sound and then she’s got one arm around me and Gianna’s got the other and we’re standing in front of a club bathroom mirror in a group hug. This is not how I intended this evening to go.
“I’m fine,” I say into Sydney’s shoulder.
“I know,” she says.
“I’m just— I’m tired. The exam, and everything, I’m just tired.”
“I know.”
“I’m really fine.”
“Bea.” Gianna pulls back slightly to look at me. “You don’t have to be fine. You know.”
I look at the ceiling. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I miss him,” I say. “And I’m… I’m annoyed at myself for missing him, because he—you both know what he did, and it wasn’t—it wasn’t nothing. But I keep thinking about how he made me laugh, and how he was in the lab, and the stupid dolphin tattoo, and I can’t—” I stop. “I can’t turn it off.”
“The dolphin tattoo is objectively very funny,” Sydney says.
Despite everything, I snort a laugh.
“It is,” I say. “It really is.”
Sydney rubs my shoulder once, firm and warm. “Okay. Can I say something?”
“You’re going to say it regardless.”
“Probably. But I’m asking.” She looks at me in the mirror. “He fucked up. Yes. The song, the leak, not telling you any of it—that was a lot of a lot. I’m not saying any of that was fine.” She pauses. “But I’ve watched that man look at you all semester, Bea, and I have never in my life seen anyone look at someone the way he looks at you. Like you’re the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to him. I don’t know if I can be objective about him, but I think you should give him a chance to at least explain himself.”
I swallow.
“And I know you’re scared,” Sydney says, more quietly. “But, babe, you’ve also been more alive this semester than I’ve ever seen you. And I’ve known you since September, like forever.”
“I actually think she’s right,” Gianna says simply. “For what it’s worth, you have sparks.”
“I don’t know how to not be afraid that it ends badly.”
“It might,” Gianna says. “But would you rather regret trying and it failing, or regret never trying at all?”
The hand dryer somewhere behind us clicks off. The tap is still running. Outside the door, the bass travels through.
I keep thinking about what my mom told me at Dora’s. I look at myself in the mirror one more time.
“He’s texted me a couple of times,” I say.
Sydney raises her eyebrows. “And?”
“And I haven’t replied.”
“Because?”
“Because I don’t know what to say.”
