Jude blinks down at Imogen suddenly leaping to correct the baffled doorman. Itâs not that he doesnât expect her to stand up for him. In fact, heâs come to know she inevitably will, as she has a tendency to do so even when itâs Jude himself sheâs defending him from. But rather heâs surprised by her ferocity. It was only a little mispronunciation. Annoying? Yeah. Worth snapping at the poor boy with bitter sharpness? Not really. He turns a pasty pale as he imagines himself in the boyâs shoes, and even clammier as Imogen explains that she was doing the boy a favor. If that is how minor annoyances are handled, Jude has to be extra careful not to break any of these strange high society rules he knows absolutely nothing about. The sinkhole in his stomach drops a little deeper. He parts himself from Imogen for a moment to nervously wipe his sweaty hands on his trousers. Like the boy at the door, one little slip up tonight might cost Jude his job. Itâs a bit of a stressful realization.
Imogenâs chatter drowns out the more pressing what-ifs that circle around his thoughts like predators, replacing them with equally baffling talk of timelines that never were. He stares down at her blankly as she goes on and on. Imogen is nearly jittering with excitement and wonder at the way things could have been. Her tone dances and dives, secretive whispers and startled exclamations. The smile on Judeâs lips is small, and a bit sad. He patiently waits for Imogen to babble through her own little world, the history that never was and never will be theirs.
When she blinks up at him, the astonishment clear in her wild, dark eyes, Judeâs smile softens. He offers his elbow for her, as his typical hugs are a bit awkward and unwieldy in the crowded space by the coat check with his wool suit jacket cinched around him. âMaybe. Maybe not. Even if we could change the past. There are infinite ways history could have wrote itself. Weâll never know for sure.â He lets Imogen lead the way forward. He stays close, clinging to her side. For all his size and strength, heâs as lost as a small child in this overwhelmingly shiny new world. He keeps his focus on Imogen, so as not to get distracted and lose track of her. âSo maybe we never argued about Ruthâs sketchbook. Surely, we would have found something else to argue over sooner than later. Arguingâs kind of our thing. Maybe you would have told me about whatever happened with Dane, and maybe I would have said something about it you didnât like, then weâre back to square one. Life is funny that way. It never takes the convenient path, but it always comes back around.â
Now itâs Judeâs turn to stop in his tracks. âWait. What did happen with you and Dane?â He gives her a curious look of concern. Even if it happened an entire year ago, damaging magic is something to be wary of, regardless. Heâs still working on tracking the echoes of such things across the calendar, after all.
âbut thatâs the thing, isnât it?â imogen answers, nearly tripping over her own words in the process, not so much struggling to keep up with herself as not bothering to hold back. âdoes it even have to come back around? itâs like... god, whatâs that word? philosophy 101 was a long time ago... umm... predestination! right? like... free will versus predestination and all that? i mean, you barely believe in magic at all, you canât tell me you believe outcomes are inevitable, do you? you donât think the stars are up there bossing us around? I mean, i guess you canât know where your choices will lead in the end- unless youâre ruth, but thatâs different. god, that must be annoying for her! anyway, iâm getting off topic- um...â she stares off into space for a moment, her gaze losing focus and letting the decorative fairy lights strung about the hall spiral into blurry, exponential galaxies. âi forgot what i meant to say.â
imogen pinches her mouth to one side- that storyâs bound to put a damper on the evening. but itâs so stupidly old, and itâs weird that jude doesnât know. surely, he canât find a way to worry about something that happened a year ago. right? âit wasnât that big of deal,â she begins, just in case. âso donât freak out. okay?â she looks up at him with a Very Serious Expression and pokes him in the chest with the index finger of her free hand. âeverythingâs fine now.â
she pauses her endless stream of chatter to choose the right starting point. ânobodyâs even supposed to know about this, so donât tell him i told you.â as they walk, she gently steers them out of the main pathway, a little further from any prying ears. âyou know how daneâs power kind of like... feeds off mine, or whatever?â it isnât the most eloquent way of saying it, but given how little she or anyone understands the mechanics of it, itâs the best she can do. imogen generates energy, dane absorbs energy. try to complicate it any further and youâre well over imogenâs head. all she knows is that when they touch, sometimes even when theyâre just in the same room, itâs like heâs the other half of a live wire, her fire arcing straight for him.
âwell, we kind of found that out in brighton. like, okay, so honestly i donât remember the whole story. we were just chatting, it wasnât anything interesting, and all of a sudden he just got super mad. i donât know what i did to set him off but it was a pretty boring conversation and suddenly heâs having a fit, and then the room starts feeling really weird. like, kind of the same as the day at my old flat with the locket, right? so i think iâm about to set the room on fire and i tell him to back off, but i canât get a grip on the energy in the room and he like-â she stops short of saying he lunged at her. it was such a long time ago, and jude doesnât need any extra reasons to have a problem with dane. âi donât know, he was still freaking out and suddenly it was like a bomb went off between us. thatâs how all that furniture got broken, by the way,â she adds, finally admitting it hadnât been that it hadnât been anybodyâs typical drunken holiday shenanigans.
âi hit my head and it took a minute to like, pull myself together, you know? and when i did, dane was right there to check if i was okay, except his eyes were doing this weird thing- have you ever seen when they get all like, fire-y? and his skin was so hot it was like he was boiling from the inside... and you know me and my, uh, issues-â namely, the then still-untreated panic disorder sheâs spent the year since learning to manage- âi ran outside to be sick and he followed me out, and then he kind of realized his shirt was all burned and he freaked out again. but like, just scared this time, not mad. and i knew i could control temperatures a little, because i tried in the middle of the whole locket thing at my old flat, so i just helped him bring his temperature down and... yeah, that was basically it. we cleaned up and got the replacement furniture ordered and promised to never talk about it again. and then we went back to the holiday like nothing happened. and thatâs why i ended up avoiding everyone most of the week,â she adds with a slightly-too-loud-laugh. âwhich is how you and i ended up at that wedding. god, it really does all come back around, doesnât it? iâve changed my mind, everything is predestined and nothing we say or do matters. pressureâs off!â