Page 22 of Get Over It, April Evans

Daphne’s lips pressed flat. “I’m so sorry.”

April shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I got over it, and so will you.”

Daphne’s eyes welled again. “What was her name?”

April sent her gaze skyward again. She couldfeelDaphne’s silence though. She waited for it to pass—she could wait anyone out, never had to say a word. April was content to hold her secrets close, always had been. She waited and she waited, but the quiet between them just grew thicker. April looked for more shapes in the stars, looked for herself, though she knew Scorpius was in the southern sky.

“You do that a lot,” Daphne said.

April didn’t look at her. “Do what?”

“Look at the stars.”

April’s gaze drifted over the heavens. “I guess I do.”

“Why?” Daphne had turned them around and started paddling again, the canoe slicing through water and air toward Cloverwild.

And for a split second, wildly, April wanted to tell her. Tell her something real. Something true. She wanted to tell her about the loneliness of her childhood, all about her parents’ desire for a child and the child they actually got. She wanted to tell her about her grandmother teaching her about astrology, about going to the library and devouring everything she could find about star charts and signs. How it all made April feel like she had a reason.

Likeshewas a reason, as opposed to a random amalgam of cells her parents would’ve altered if they could.

But then April heard laughter from Cloverwild’s dock, and April remembered who Daphne was, whoshewas, how she hadn’t told these stories to anyone since the night she’d fallen in love with Elena Watson.

And that was the way she’d rather keep it.

“No reason,” she said, eyes locked on the dock, on her freedom from this conversation. She still had no clue how she was going to get through this summer with Daphne, but she was an adult. She’d acted like an asshole, yes, but she could figure out how to move past all of this.

She’d done it before with no help from Daphne Love or Elena Watson.

She’d fucking do it again.

April took a deep breath, nodding to herself, but noticed Daphne had stopped paddling again, about twenty feet from the dock. Daphne watched her with an expression April couldn’t really parse. Eyes softly narrowed, but mouth taut—curiosity and suspicion all at once.

“What?” April asked.

“You suck at tit for tat,” Daphne said.

April laughed lightly. “Maybe I do.”

“Why did you ask me if Elena was single when I met her?”

April’s spine went rigid. “I was—”

“Because that’s not exactly a normal question to ask someone who just went through a breakup.”

April cleared her throat, looked down at her lap now. “I was curious. That’s all.”

But Daphne shook her head, sadness spilling into her expression now. “I don’t think so.”

“Goddamn water signs,” April said under her breath.

“She cheated on you, didn’t she?” Daphne asked softly. “Your ex.”

And it felt like taking a bullet. The shock of Daphne’s assessment. Yes, it had been three years. April felt no pain for Elena herself, but she still felt the heartache of the act—the heartache and betrayal, how disposable it had made her feel.

“Yes,” April said curtly. “She did, okay? She dumped me like a piece of trash three years ago. Now can you row us back to the dock?”

Daphne didn’t start paddling though. She simply stared at April with a devastated look on her face. And dammit, for all of Daphne’s emotional transparency, April couldn’t tell if it was pity, empathy, or some clairvoyantknowing.