Page 27
“Here you go.”
“I…”
I can’t meet his eyes, for some reason. Not least because his stupid chest is now basically at my eye level. I take the plate, clear my throat, and try for a change of subject. “You were in the bathroom this whole time?” Guys and their mysterious bathroom habits, I swear to God.
“Yeah, I…” Fox takes a step back, frowning. “Hey, so were you.”
“I was taking a shower,” I point out. “Trying not to smell as bad as the rest of this place.”
“Oh, you don’t.” He shakes his head vigorously. “You smell nice.” The words blurt out of his mouth so fast that neither of us quite processes them at first. Although for very different reasons.
Fox’s eyes go wide. “I mean…”
Fox. My heart does a little skip in my chest in spite of myself. “You sound surprised.”
“No, I mean, you always smell nice, it’s just—” His eyes go wide. “I mean, not that I notice how you smell. Mostly. Just like, I know you don’t smell bad, so I didn’t want you to think that—”
Oh my God, I think. Fox is…flustered around me? Now that I’m a girl?
I suppress a snort of laughter. Must be the mascara. But I don’t want to embarrass him any further, and I haven’t spent months undercover as a guy to have a terrible poker face. Instead, I just focus myself on finding a knife—a clean knife—and spreading my peanut butter. Which I do, taking my time lathering it on the bread and then taking a bite. But as I chew, painfully slowly, Fox is looking at me. Still.
“Um, anyway.” He blinks a few more times and stares at the ground. “Yeah.”
God, it’s honestly adorable. My jaw is physically tense with the effort not to smile.
Because I like Fox. I really do. He’s always been the friendliest of the guys, and now that my big secret’s out, the fact that he had—has?—a crush—or something?—on Tink is less threatening and more just sweet. Save for the fact that he probably has no idea what to do now that I am a girl, officially.
And, if I’m being honest, neither do I.
As if he can read my mind, Fox blows out a breath and rocks back and forth on his heels. “Look,” he says. “Tink, we should…we should probably talk.”
I swallow my toast. “We should?”
“Yeah,” Fox says, a hint of dismay in his voice like it’s an obvious need. “About…you know. The fact that that I…that we kissed.” His voice drops to the barest whisper on the last word. And my throat goes thick for reasons that have nothing to do with peanut butter toast.
“We…I…” I blink, set my toast down, and give my head a firm shake. “Do we?”
Because, honestly—after taking a split second to think through it all again—I’m fine with it. More than fine, actually. It was nice. It was…a surprise, certainly, but not in a non-consensual way. Just in a…Fox got his wires crossed kind of way. I certainly didn’t mind the actual experience of it.
Although I guess, in hindsight, I can see how my reaction might have implied otherwise.
“I’m not mad, or anything,” I say, just at the same time as Fox says, “I’m so sorry.”
He blinks. “Um.” He gives a little laugh and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. I am, though. Sorry, I mean. About making you do that.”
“You didn’t make me do anything, Fox.” A prickle—of guilt, of memory—skims up the back of my neck. “Trust me.”
“No, I know, but—”
His face is going steadily pinker and pinker, the despair in his boyish eyes almost hungry, and all at once it pains me for him to think that he ever did anything wrong.
“Fox,” I say again, even more gently. “It’s fine. You’re a good kisser.” I don’t know why I throw that in. Maybe just to make him feel better. And it’s not not the truth. Under other circumstances, like completely other circumstances, so other that it would be a different life and situation and freaking planet for both of us, I would have enjoyed the experience.
“That’s…I…what?” Sixteen different emotions fly across Fox’s face, ending with him frowning. “Thanks. I mean,” he snaps back, shaking his head. “That’s not the point. I just. It was more that…”
Oh, I think, right.
“No, I know. I just meant…” I give a weird little laugh. “You know, for whoever the next guy is.”
