Page 79 of Get Over It, April Evans

Because surely,theElena Watson, who insisted on seven and a half hours of sleep a night—no more, no less—would not becalling Daphne at two in the morning unless something was gravely wrong.

“There she is,” Elena said, her voice smooth and languid, like pulled taffy at a Tennessee state fair.

Daphne’s stomach went wobbly. Elena had said those exact words the last time they’d spoken on the phone, as though she’d simply misplaced Daphne and that explained why they’d been apart for the better part of two months. Regardless, Daphne couldn’t stop her reaction to Elena’s voice, to her words, to the fact that she’d called at all.

“What do you want?” she forced herself to ask.

Elena laughed softly. “Couldn’t sleep. Talking to you always helped when I couldn’t sleep.”

Daphne said nothing, but her throat went a little thick. She remembered many nights when Elena was restless and Daphne would make them cinnamon tea and they’d talk about everything Elena was stressing over. It always worked, and within the hour, Elena would be curled up with her silk sleep mask, breathing deeply, while Daphne tossed and turned from her own disrupted sleep cycle. It was one of those memories Daphne never knew how to view. Was it sweet? Selfish? Was it a warm display of partnership, or evidence of the self-tinted lens through which Elena viewed everything and everyone in her life?

“I can’t make your tea anymore, Elena,” Daphne said as firmly as she could muster, which wasn’t all that firm considering she was trying to be quiet. April was only a wall away, and for some reason she couldn’t parse in the moment, she didn’t want her cabinmate to know Elena was on the phone.

“Oh, I know,” Elena said softly. Daphne heard the sound of rustling fabric, could easily picture Elena in her big bed all alone, the ivory silk sheets cool and clean around her.

They sat in silence for a second, listening to each other breathewhile Daphne tried to drum up the courage to say goodbye, or better, simply hang up. But then Elena spoke again.

“How’s April?”

Two tiny words, but they felt like a bomb going off, shrapnel flying. Daphne’s hand went to her chest, theboommaking her heart feel off beat, or maybe it stopped beating altogether. Hearing Elena say April’s name…she wasn’t ready for it.

“If we talk about April, we talk about April,” Daphne said.

Elena was silent for a second, then Daphne heard her take a deep breath.

“April was special,” she finally said. “But she wasn’t you.”

Daphne blinked into the dim room, the porch light streaming through the windows making everything in the cabin look ghostly and pale.

“That’s it?” Daphne said. “That’s all you have to say?”

Elena sighed. “What do you want me to say? I fell in love. And both April and I had suspected the incompatibility between us for months.”

“So youcheatedon her? And made me a part of it without my consent?”

“I made a decision,” Elena said firmly. “A bad one, I understand that, but at the time, it was the best I could do. Feelings aren’t black-and-white, Daphne. It took me some time to figure out how I felt and what I needed to do about it. For both of you.”

Daphne shook her head, even though Elena couldn’t see her, because it almost sounded logical. Italmostsounded okay. But this was what Elena did. What she always did. She spun and she wove until Daphne was tangled in the most beautiful web, completely unaware she was even trapped.

That she was prey.

And it was so, so exhausting.

She lay back down in her bed, tucked the covers under herarms. She watched the ceiling fan spin slowly, wondering why, if she was aware of the crouching black widow in the corner, she still couldn’t seem to get out of its path.

“April is incredible,” Daphne finally said.

Three words this time, but she felt them land all the same. Not only with Elena, whom Daphne could hear inhale slowly through her nose as though trying to achieve some sort of calm, but with Daphne too.

Aprilwasincredible. She was smart and strange and beautiful, and Daphne thought she might—

She squeezed her eyes closed, but even that didn’t push out the thought, the complicated feelings, the memory of being in April’s arms in the lake, soft skin and wet hair and fingers that ached to explore.

Elena was right about one thing—feelings weren’t black-and-white. They were a kaleidoscope of color and sensations. Love and hate bleeding together, lust and affection and fear, how right something felt reminding her in the same breath how wrong it could all go.

“I miss you,” Elena said softly, as though to prove everything Daphne had been thinking. “I really do.”

Daphne’s chin trembled, her eyes stinging suddenly. “I miss you too,” she said. Because it was true, right or wrong or somewhere in between, the whole kaleidoscopic mess of it all.