Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(27)

Margot’s face did something complicated, scrunching as if she’d sucked on a lemon, before her brows rose and she sighed, shoulders slumping. “He’s tried. I’m usually pretty good at putting him in his place, gently yet firmly, but I’ve been known to cave on occasion. I’ve never let him set me up with someone, but I go through the motions if we’re out somewhere and he introduces me to a friend of his. When Brendon inevitably wanders off to give us time to chat, I make it clear if I’m not actually interested.”

Not actually interested in the friends Brendon tried to set her up with, or not interested in dating, period? “So you aren’t seeing anyone?”

Olivia held her breath. That was probably something she should’ve asked before, when they were having their roommate chat. She’d had the perfect opening when she’d asked about having people over, but she’d flustered too easily. Margot made her fluster too easily.

“No.” Margot’s tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. “I’m not.”

Do you want to be? sounded like a cringe pickup line even if that wasn’t how Olivia meant it. But when Margot didn’t tack on a helpful adjoiner, she had to ask something. She wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise, her curiosity niggling at her. “Are you interested in finding someone?”

Had it been a question of wrong time, wrong place when they were younger, or was Olivia just the wrong person?

Margot slipped her fingers beneath her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I’m not not interested. I just don’t feel like I need someone. Like I’m lacking without my special other half.” Margot scoffed softly, brow knitting harshly, her scowl returning. “I’m a whole person. And the idea of needing to find someone to make you complete seems like bullshit to me. The right person shouldn’t complete you, they should love you the way you are. And it’s cool if they make you want to be better, but they should never make you feel like you’re too much or not enough exactly as you are.” Margot took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Sorry.” She chuckled. “Soapbox. I have a lot of feelings, I guess.”

“I like your feelings,” Olivia blurted, face heating. “I mean, your feelings are valid.”

Margot blushed, the tops of her ears turning a darker shade than her cheeks. She laughed under her breath. “Thanks. As much as I love my friends, sometimes I feel like they don’t get it. They’re all in relationships and so happy and I’m happy for them, but based on how they talk sometimes I get the feeling they wish I were in a relationship because it would be easier for them. Like it would tie our friend group up into a nice little six-way bow. No loose strings.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. No one should ever take your friendship for granted.”

Not any friendship, but certainly not Margot’s. Margot had been the most loyal friend Olivia had ever had, and she knew from experience what it was like losing that, missing it, wanting it back.

It was funny. Well, perhaps funny wasn’t the right word. Ironic, maybe—Olivia always used that word wrong—how she hadn’t regretted sleeping with Margot, but she’d absolutely regretted the aftermath. How, without meaning to, it had complicated everything, something she’d thought had brought them together instead adding distance between them.

Margot wrapped the ends of her friendship bracelet around her narrow wrist and shrugged. “I’m not saying they’re taking me for granted, but it just sucks to think that they potentially rank our friendship lower than their relationships when they aren’t comparable, you know? Love isn’t supposed to be quantifiable, relationships held up against one another, pitted against one another. That’s a shitty thing to try to do, like asking someone to compare their love for their mother to their love for their partner or their best friend.”

When Margot frowned at her wrist, unable to knot the ends of the bracelet together with one hand, Olivia reached out to do it for her.

“It’s like, I don’t care about you less because I don’t want in your pants, you know?” Margot paused and lifted her eyes, a low creak escaping her parted lips. “General you. Not you specifically. Not that I’m not saying . . .” She turned her head to the side and chuckled. “Wow, I’m going to shut up.”

Olivia bit her lip, smothering her smile at how flustered Margot sounded. Whether Margot had wanted in Olivia’s pants had never been the question. Or it had been, but only until it had been answered. It wasn’t the prevailing question now. “I know what you were trying to say.”

“Do you?” Margot laughed, a flush creeping down her neck and disappearing where her slouchy crewneck sweater draped beneath her collarbones. “Because I think I got lost somewhere in there.”

Olivia finished tying the bracelet, but let her fingers linger, adjusting the way the braided rope and beads sat. Olivia’s thumb grazed the fragile skin over the inside of Margot’s wrist, making her shiver, and Olivia could’ve sworn she felt Margot’s pulse skip. “You value your friendships. It’s—it was always one of my favorite things about you.”

Margot’s throat jerked. “Yeah?”

Olivia nodded and went for broke. “I feel like a dork, but no one really teaches you how to make friends as an adult. Would you . . . maybe want to be friends? Again?” She laughed. “God, I feel like I should write this down on a piece of paper. Check yes or no.”