Page 8 of Crushes to WHAT

“I’m not cranky,” Muse retorts, crankily.

Poem raises her eyebrows.

Sonnet worries her lip.

I wish, desperately, that we had popcorn instead of the “barbecue” chips and dip Poem has provided.

Eventually, Muse capitulates, slumping down in her chair with a huff and a squeak of faux-leather. “Okay, I might be a little cranky.”

Poem crunches a chip loudly in response.

Muse groans. “It’s not my fault,” she claims. “It’s Sterne Stupid Donovan’s fault.”

“Sterne’s fault?” I ask at the same time as everyone else, because what in the world could that possibly mean?

“Yes,” she grumps. “Sterne’s fault.”

“Elaborate,” Leora orders, head tilted.

“We’re neighbors,” Muse says unnecessarily. Everyone knows they’re neighbors. October is two apples wide and even fewer around. You can hardly take a step without everyone knowing about it. Two young, hot, romanceable townies living next door to each other is information no one would miss.

“Why would being neighbors with Sterne Donovan make you cranky?” Sonnet asks when Muse does not elaborate further.

“He’s infuriating,” Muse replies. “And annoying. And he’s lucky I didn’t hit him with my car when I saw him taking his trash out as I was leaving for book club.”

My brows furrow. “You can’t hit Sterne with your car. He’s my friend.”

“And Wolfe’s friend,” Leora adds.

“Plus, he’s not actually annoying or infuriating,” Poem contributes. “Sterne is good people. Why are you daydreaming about running good people over with your car?”

“Good people,” Muse scoffs. “Sterne is not good people. Sterne is no good, irritating, blasé, doesn’t take anything seriously people, and he’s annoying.”

“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “He took kidnapping Leora pretty seriously.” He even went so far as to semi-kidnap Wolfe to make the not-semi-kidnapping of Leora happen. Very serious of him, if you ask me.

“Exactly,” Muse says. She points at my face with a vindicated snarl.

I blink.

Poem blinks.

Leora blinks.

Sonnet worries her lip.

Poem pulls herself together first, finding the words that evade the rest of us. “We’re just going to let you work that one out yourself for a minute,” she says. “With the knowledge that we all love you, and we all love Sterne, and we are all aware of the laws regarding hitting people with our cars.”

Muse sniffs derisively. “Laws only matter if he presses charges,” she mumbles. “Which he won’t, because the man is a full-blown lunatic who thinks life is a joke.”

How much side-eye can a person receive before they start to experience side effects? Asking for a supremely confused friend.

Poem takes pity on her poor, misled sister, and brings us back to the topic at hand—a much more pleasant topic, too. Who would want to talk about Sterne when we could instead be talking about- “Emerson?” Poem asks, leveling her gaze on me. “Did anything else happen?”

I ponder her question, parsing through my memory of yesterday evening. The only thing I haven’t mentioned is the moment when I told Emerson I felt safe with him. That doesn’t feel like mine to share, even if I did fall asleep last night to his words replaying over and over in my head—his soft, commanding, “You feel safe with me,” leading me contentedly into dreams of he and I…

I blush, and Poem hoots, reading me all wrong.

“Something did happen!” she declares gleefully.