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Dahlia shrugs. “If you’re really going to end it after the holidays, maybe don’t, but if things keep progressing, you’re going to have to tell her.”
“I know,” I say. I’m terrified of disappointing Alitha. And of losing my job. “What if she tells Aura or someone else at Augury and one of them tells the dean?”
“Alitha is a square, as are you, but she’s not a chismosa. She hardly talks to anyone anyway. Quit worrying. Barbara from HR isn’t going to read Alitha’s mind, nor is she going to fly down to hell to tell the devil to wait for your arrival.”
Dahlia is right, but I still hate it. I hate lying. I’ve never lied this much in my life. I’m hiding things from Alitha, I’m essentially having Vega fake her identity for my parents, and worst of all… I think I might be lying to myself. Nope, no thanks. No time to unpack that.
One of Dahlia’s thick brows raises as I toss the black lingerie set into my suitcase. “I’m not packing the red bodysuit, but I’ll pack these just in case.”
“Just in case you accidentally slip and fall and land in her pu—”
“Dahlia Torres, what is wrong with you?!” I shout, and we both cackle. I walk over to the couch and sit beside her.
Dahlia smiles and turns her head, her long high ponytail flipping with the movement. “Elorthiel has my mind in the gutter, doesn’t he?”
“Alright. You havethirty secondsto gab about how hot you think your new boyfriend is,” I say. “Go.”
“I mean you’ve seen him, he’s the hottest elfling around,” she starts.
“Alitha is definitely hotter than that man,” I say.
“Alitha and you are the most beautiful beings alive, but you know I don’t do femmes. Anyway, he has an eight pack!”
“Is that even anatomically possible?”
Her forehead creases. “Well, I’ve seen it, so yes. You’re the one who teaches at a fancy university. Shouldn’t you know this?”
“I study magic, not abs.”
“You say that, but I’m pretty certain you’ve licked your boss’s abs. Back to my original point—he has a tongue piercing… that vibrates.”
My mouth drops open. Ihavebeen wanting to lick V’s abs. Wait, did she say what I think she said? “Vibrates?”
“Yeah. Like a vibrator in his mouth. I may or may not have gotten to experience it on Friday.”
Oh wow. So that’s why she didn’t answer the phone. Damn, the things I could do to V with something like that. The things she could do to me. Fucking hell, I need this week.
“I’ve never seriously considered getting body modifications besides like… basic ear stuff,” I confess. “Iris has all sorts of tattoos and piercings, and that made me shy away from them… but Vega has a septum ring, cartilage piercings,anda tattoo of stars. I’m starting to get it.”
Dahlia rubs my upper arm. “You’re so cute.”
Dahlia’s new man has two full sleeves and a chest panel, so she probably thinks I sound ridiculous right now, but these are big steps for me. I wear a lot of black, and my house is a deep purple–but that’s about as dark as it gets. I’m like a dark cupcake. Moody on the outside, sparkly on the inside. I’ve always wanted tattoos, my younger sister Iris is covered in them, but needles are on the top of my list of things that trigger an anxiety attack. Oh well. Maybe one day! I’ve always liked when people get their wedding rings tattooed on their bodies like a permanent thread of fate.
Dahlia waves her hands in front of my face, her tan wrist covered in golden bangles. “Earth to Indigo—I’ve got a client first thing tomorrow morning, so I’ve gotta head out soon. Are you ready to see your parents?”
“Not in the slightest, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be,” I say. I moved here for school, stayed for work, but ultimately I think I just didn’t want to go back. The island itself has done nothing wrong, but it’s home, which means it’s also the origins of all my trauma. I should be grateful that my life is good, but sometimes existing is so… hard.
“Try and enjoy being home, but if you don’t, just sneak away with your new fuck buddy,” Dahlia says with a wink. She pulls me in for a hug, and I accept it. She gets up off the couch, grabs her bag, and heads out my front door.
I rub my hands in my face. What have I got myself into?
* * *
Vega and I sit on the ferry, the morning mist rising above the sea, and run through our backstory as if we’re two actors rehearsing our lines. V rolls up the brown sleeves of her sweatshirt, and my eyes wander to her exposed skin. Her hands are pressed against the bench, causing the veins in the crook of her elbow to emerge in prominent lines.
“I’m still Vega Daelor, twenty-eight years old, and I’m still from Freehold, a community in the central north-east part of Turtle Island. What can’t they know?” she asks. My brain is still running through hundreds of things I wouldn’t want them to know that’ll never come up, like the way she sounds when I touch her.
“They can’t know you work at Augury University,” I remind her. Our thighs are close enough to touch, though hers are much larger. Even through the fabric of her dress pants, I can see the prominence of her quads.
