𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

As I trace my fingertips over the letters of my name, I feel myself start to fall. Although I don't know what exactly I'm falling into, I have the plunging fear in my stomach to tell me that I am, in fact, falling. But not into love. Not yet. I can still slow my descent, I can let loose my parachute—I can back out of this. I can land on the ground on two feet, with a heart intact, and with a loss of something I could've experienced. Or I can let go and let the rushing current of fate sweep me away. Let the gravity of what this is becoming pull me down, fast, and have my hand reach for hers so we can fall together. If she lets me find her.

These thoughts have no time to linger, because my eyes have found a spot on the sticky note where ink has bled through from the other side. I quickly flip it over, and my breath catches in my throat. She signed off:

love,
xiomara

Her name. That's her name. I wonder—deliriously, with my sleep-deprived mind pulling out thoughts I can't unthink—how the four syllables of that name would feel when my lips shape around them. Shit. I'm already falling too fast.

My phone chirps in my pocket. I pull it out, my gut already telling me who it is before I even lay my eyes on it. And lo and fucking behold, it's her. Her short text lights up my screen. It says:

the bleachers. the ones near the tennis courts.

The fuck? What game is she playing here? I laugh quietly, shaking my head and pocketing my phone. I take a breath and spin in a slow circle, holding Xiomara's book tight to my chest. I gaze at the spines of novels lining the bookshelves on either side of me. I reach for one in particular, my fingers grazing the tea green spine of a comfort read, of a soft fairytale retelling that can take reality and push it back into the far corners of my mind. I might find answers in the words dripping with magic.

But then I stop, pulling back my hand. I won't find answers in someone else's story.

I rush back to Walter where he's still waiting with his feet propped up on his desk that's still cluttered with my random belongings. He raises his steaming coffee mug in greeting. "How'd it go? You took so long that I had time to brew a cup and shit. And you know how I take my time trying to perfect my new sugar to milk ratio." He shakes his dark-haired head ruefully, taking a sip, "I was so close this time! I swear!"

I raise my eyebrows at him, my expression unamused. "You're not allowed to brew coffee in here. That's what the teacher's lounge is for."

He waves his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Let's talk about you and her. I didn't hear any passionate kissing noises?"

After I threaten to pour coffee on his treasured Great Expectations, I launch into a detailed account of what happened. By the time I finished, his eyes are wide with excitement and his movements frantic.

"What are you waiting for, then?" he asks, shooting up from his chair and pushing me out of the doors of the library despite my protests. "You literally have a chance at a main character moment. Take it."

I stumble out into the hallway that's as empty as it usually is after school hours, with only the janitor mopping up the floors to witness my joie de vivre. My smile is stuck to my face stubbornly, as if it swore it won't ever leave. But then it does, slowly slipping off my face onto the linoleum floor. Because Brie—glamorous as she always is in an ebony dress and high heels—is storming down the hall with her wild, raging eyes pinned on me. My heart sinks, weighed down by the unwelcome weight of her sudden presence. She shouts my name, and the shrillness of her voice makes me wince.

My sister.

At first I freeze, unable to move with the intensity of her glare holding me in place. But then I see a familiar orange flyer clutched in her hand, and I push down a hysterical laugh rising in my throat. The new book club I'm putting together can't be why she looks like she wants to rip me to pieces with her manicured nails. Distractedly, I think about how she picked a nice shade of red nail polish. Then I think about how my blood will be red all over the floor if I don't get the hell out of here. Now.