Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute(66)

The storm cloud above my head drifts away in the face of this genius plan. I sink into the sofa, my mood officially transformed, and announce, “I’ll play Mason next.”

“I’m gonna obliterate you,” my little brother pants.

I grin. “Bring it on.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





CELINE


    SUNDAY, 6:56 P.M.


Minnie: soooo I got into Edge Lake





Celine: WHAT???





Celine: I KNEW IT!!!





Minnie:





Celine: A SWAN, MICHAELA. YOU ARE AN EDGE LAKE SWAN





Minnie: thank u babe





Celine: pizza party when I get back





Minnie: well, who am i to decline pizza





Minnie: but in the meantime





Minnie: are you gonna be okay spending the week alone w ur new boyf?





Celine: we won’t be alone





Celine: + why wouldn’t I be okay???





Minnie: idk your animal lust might bubble over and you could lose your v card in the woods





Celine: virginity is a social construct and I have opted out





Celine: wait.





Celine: HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND MICHAELA





Minnie: hahahaha ok celine





I roll my eyes and close our chat because we’re on the bus to Glen Finglas for the final expedition in Scotland—and after the last few months of normal life, I need to get back in the BEP zone. I need to be at my Breakspeare Explorer best. I need to not have a heart attack, and if Michaela keeps accusing me of a relationship I can’t have, it’s highly likely cardiac arrest will follow.

The fact is, Brad and I are not dating. We have been hanging out a lot, and touching a lot, and it’s true that I am unfortunately in love with him, but that doesn’t make us dating. I decimated any chance of that. It’s February, which means I have a mere seven months to get over this teeth-aching obsession with him, take my frankly ludicrous feelings of love down the much safer avenue of loving friendship, and get used to the fact that come October, we’ll be too far apart for our secret, 100 percent platonic make-out sessions to continue.

Minnie fantasizing about things that will never happen really doesn’t help.

Aurora’s sitting next to me drawing a scary-good picture of a thistle in a leather-bound notebook with thick, creamy pages, so I open my camera app and turn my attention to her. “Hey, Rory.”

She clocks my phone and holds her open scrapbook in front of her face. “Celiiiiine.”

“What? You look cute!”

“No, I don’t. The presence of any camera within a ten-meter radius makes my facial muscles freeze in a very awkward position. This is a fact,” she says firmly. “It’s been scientifically tested.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, then duck down so I can get a shot of the Great British countryside passing us by.”

“Of course,” she says. “I live to serve you. My spine is foldable anyway, for your convenience—”

I snort and push her back against the seat. The idyllic view from our window involves a potholed main road, a traffic queue that consists mainly of red Ford Kas and gray Vauxhall Astras, and a fenced off, barren field in which a single skinny goat gnaws on what looks like a large pair of knickers.

I grimace and let Aurora sit up. “Never mind.” And then, like an incredibly dim moth to an incredibly bright flame, I turn toward the seat across the aisle. Toward Brad.

“Hey,” I say casually. “Smile.”

He cuts off his conversation with Raj, looks at me, and lights up like a bulb. Soft lips, strong teeth, eyes dark like a secret. Something swoops in my stomach, which is a completely normal occurrence; sometimes my stomach swoops around Minnie too. Usually with dread, after she tells me about a joint Halloween costume or a new makeup technique she wants to practice on me, but still. Swooping happens.

“What are you doing?” Brad asks, all innocent, while twinkling at my phone like a professional sparkler.

“I’m going to make a BEP TikTok.”

“Oh yeah,” Raj says, leaning forward. “You’re internet famous.”

“Not really,” I mutter, but Brad’s talking over me. “Yeah, she has thirty-two thousand followers. She made this video about trees recently that went viral.” He turns away from the camera. I can see the precise, diamond parts in the vivid dark of his hair, and the sharp angle of his jaw shifting as he talks, talks, talks about me. “It was, about, like, how all the trees in the world are baby trees. There used to be bigger trees with trunks like volcanoes. Like mountains! But they all died and the ones we think are big are actually just saplings growing back….” He trails off, shifting in his seat, rummaging through the pockets of his jeans. “Hang on, I’m not explaining it right. I’ll show you.”

I am gobsmacked.

Then Aurora leans over my shoulder and murmurs, “Three minutes of Brad footage. That’ll make an excellent TikTok.”