“You want us to… to have a fake relationship? Are you serious?”
Elle couldn’t help it, she stepped forward and threw her arms around Darcy, hugging her tight.
“Life would be a lot better if we all spent a little more time staring at the stars.” Loose strands of blonde hair caught the moonlight, creating a haloed glow around her when she turned her face up to the sky. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” “Yes.” Darcy wasn’t looking at the sky.
“I was going to say you look like… you look like the moon.” The stars too, for that matter. Elle looked like she’d been draped in the night sky, dipped in starlight.
“It’s cilantro. Because I’ve liked you for longer than I knew how to say, before I could say it. Before I could say it the way you deserve to hear it. But I have and I do. I like you the exact way you are Elle. Boxed wine and glitter and astrology and most of all”-Darcy sucked in a gasping breath- “I love the way you make me hope. You make me hope and you make me happy. You make me so happy, Elle."
“Things are… complicated.” “Complicated. Hmm,” Annie said. “That wouldn’t have something to do with a certain cute blonde? Tiny thing with huge eyes that she has just for you?”“What’s that supposed to mean?”Another horn honked, meshing with the sound of Annie’s laughter. “Brendon posted pics from your date the other night. Elle is all googly-eyed over you in them and you’re just as bad. When you’re looking at her, she’s looking away. And vice versa. It’s cute.” Darcy’s stomach lurched, pulse pirouetting. “It’s fake.” “Sure.”
Darcy: About that. It’s not fake.
Darcy: It’s not fake. It’s complicated.
Annie: Oh my god. You had sex. You slept with her.
Annie: I fucking knew it.
Annie: It was good, yeah? It must’ve been.
unknown number (11.24 A.M.): you have some explaining to do
Darcy (11.26 A.M.): I think you have the wrong number.
unknown number (11.29 A.M.): do i Darcy?
Darcy (11.31 A.M.): Who is this?
unknown number (11.36 A.M.): your worst nightmare
unknown number (11.39 A.M.): ok that sounded kinda serial killer-ishunknown number (11.39 A.M.): which im not
unknown number (11.40 A.M.): which is totally what a serial killer would say
unknown number (11.40 A.M.): oops
unknown number (11.41 A.M.): it was supposed to be like im pissed at you and demand answers but not like im mouth breathing over your shoulder and wearing a hickey mask
unknown number (11.41 A.M.): *hockey
unknown number (11.42 A.M.): none of this is helping huh?
unknown number (11.42 A.M.): nvm
Save for the part where Elle’s bright, twinkling laughter made Darcy dizzy. Or how the look of unadulterated joy on Elle’s face when those balloons and annoying confetti had rained down on them made Darcy feel like someone had punched her in the gut, then chopped her off at the knees. But she wasn’t going to think about that. No. she wasn’t going to think about how smooth Elle’s skin, her thigh, had felt beneath that table, how she’d wanted to stay hidden by the tablecloth. She wasn’t going to think about how Elle’s breath tickled her neck during that hug or how Elle’s lip had brushed her jaw as she lowered back from where she’d risen up on her tippy-toes and flung her arms around Darcy’s neck. No Darcy wasn’t going to give oxygen to that… that spark. If she breathed life into it, it would grow and that-
Instead, she traced the bow of Elle’s mouth with the pad of her fingertip, so gently Elle could feel the delicate friction of each ridge and whirl on Darcy’s fingerprint.
Darcy slid her hands up Elle’s neck, burying them in her hair. Tipping Elle’s head back and leaning in, Darcy smiled and murmured against Elle’s lips, the touch tickling, “Embrace the weird, huh?”
Darcy’s arm was braced on the railing, bracketing Elle in. She whispered something in Elle’s ear that made Elle beam and turn, pressing a quick kiss to Darcy’s cheek.
“You’ve taught me plenty of things.” Glitter from Elle’s hair landed on Darcy’s wrist, pink, blue, and silver freckles mingling with the rest of the moles that dotted her skin. Rather than shake it off, Darcy let the glitter linger.
Darcy turned, glancing over her shoulder. There was a hickey on her neck, a bruise in the shape of Elle’s mouth, the sight of which made Elle flush from head to toe.
