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“Grogu?”
“Baby Yoda,” I clarify.
Her nose crinkles. “That creepy little guy. You have a doll of him?”
I nudge her knee. “A plushie. It’s cute and squishy. And very comforting I’ll fucking add.”
Her lips downturn. “I know I’m not warm and fuzzy like your Baby Yoda—”
“You don’t have to be those things,” I interject. “You’re still this comforting presence in my life, Kenobi.”
I didn’t mean to be this open and vulnerable with her, but emotion is just pooling out. And I’m not in the business of mopping up feelings and tossing them aside. I’m not even sure how to rewind and do that!
Stop freaking out, Zoey.
She leans closer to catch my gaze. Hers is intense. Harsh, but not even close to accusatory or angry. October looks prepared to encase me in her arms and shield me from every evil in this town and this fucking world. “Then why are you so nervous around me tonight?”
I try my best not to avoid her eyes. Don’t be a coward. I unbottle as much bravery as I can muster. “Maybe I don’t deserve you either—”
“Please—”
“Maybe you deserve a woman who’s impressive—”
“You’re impressive,” she volleys back quickly, glaring like I’m losing sense of our reality, and yeah, we’re both cutting each other off. “You’re beautiful—”
“Someone who can rival you, Kenobi,” I interject again. “Not someone who follows you like a lost pupp—”
“You’re not lost, and you’re far from being my lap do—”
“You deserve more!” I shout. “You deserve a woman who never left. A woman who would’ve stood by your side.”
“You deserve more, Zoey,” she retorts forcefully. “You deserve someone who would’ve put you before her standing in the town. You deserve someone who asked you to prom—”
“I didn’t want to go!” I almost start crying. Why am I crying? What the fuck. I wipe the involuntary tears away—oh my God, October is wiping them for me. She’s touching my wet cheeks, and I let her fingers brush over my skin. I let her stay this close while I say, “I didn’t care about prom. I didn’t care that we did everything privately or as privately as we could. I didn’t care that we didn’t put a label on what we were—none of that mattered to me. I just wanted you.”
I still just want you.
Her eyes redden. “Don’t.”
“October—”
“Don’t tell me I deserve more. Not when you deserve the entire seven-tiered cake, and I gave you a crumb.”
“You gave me pastries every day in high school.”
“It’s a metaphor, you idiot.” Her voice breaks.
I laugh and cry.
“Stop crying, please.” Tears are squeezing out of her eyes. “Why are you still crying, sweets?”
I wronged you. “Because you deserve…”
She’s shaking her head.
“You deserve a woman who would’ve never opened the forbidden fucking book!” It explodes out of me.
October has solidified.
My heart is racing out of my chest and into the bathtub to go hide. Don’t cower now. Staying on the bed with wet lashes, I manage to say more softly, “I went to the museum to look up your curse.”
She quickly retracts her hand from my ankle, from my tear-streaked face. Cold bites my flesh. Pain lances me everywhere. Please don’t leave me, I want to scream.
Instead, I just ramble, “I’m sorry. I broke. I caved. I did all the things I shouldn’t have done, but I just needed to know someone didn’t hurt you. I was starting to imagine the worst. And I couldn’t take it anymore. I just…I fucking had to know.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyes snapped closed. “You shouldn’t have, Zoey.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know,” she snaps coldly. “You don’t know anything!” She climbs off the bed in anger. Outrage. Hands fly to the top of her head like she’s ascending an 8,000 meter peak.
I hop off the bed and hold out a hand like I’m trying to befriend a feral creature. “Can we please just talk about it? I just don’t understand, okay? The entire town knows your curse, but you couldn’t tell me, why?” I stupidly add, “You drowned?”
A growl rips through her throat and she’s the one pacing my room now. I want to console her, but I feel out-of-my-element on comforting someone. People can call October an ice queen all they want, but she’s in an elite class at comforting the wounded—person and animal. I don’t have those skills in my toolbelt, and I worry if every word I say will sound trite.
Try.
I’m going to try. Because I care enough about her to not want to cause her pain or panic like this. She’s muttering under her breath. I can’t make out the words, but I’m guessing she’s cursing me out.
“I don’t know what it’s like to drown,” I whisper. “I can’t even begin to imagine—”
She whips around to face me, and the deadly look on her face steals my words. Steals my breath. I stop cold.
