Page 39 of Madness Becomes Her

A beat of silence stretches on. “You know, in one of my memories about the queen, there were these two bald boys…”

“The Queen’s Tweedles.”

“Her what?”

“I don’t want to talk about two bald boys,” he answers.

“Alright. Whatdoyou want to talk about?”

“Certainly not the weather.”

I snort, feeling close to losing my mind the longer I’m here. But also, the longer I’m here, the more I don’t want to leave.

It feels like home.

That’s worrisome.

The air between us sizzles as Finlo leans in. My lungs burn, begging me to inhale, but I don’t want to scare him off.

“Was it positively awful?” he whispers, a hair’s breadth from my lips.

I can’t think. I can’t focus.

He’s asked me this question before. It’s like he’s seeking some resolution to the question, but I don’t know how to answer yet.

“Was what awful?” I reply breathlessly.

“Wonderland.”

“I don’t know yet. I need to know the end of the story. Will you tell me?”

“I cannot. To live something so horrible once is enough, don’t you think?”

I want to argue that he’s doing that to me by making me live the memories alone, but I can’t.

His hand lifts off the bed, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

My lips dropping open, I exhale shakily. “Fin?”

“Everything aboutnewyou is so…”

God, please say alluring.

The longer I’m in Wonderland and with Finlo, the more I realize something is growing between us, but before tonight, I thought it was just me feeling it.

The dilation of his pupils tells another story.

“So, what?” I ask, prodding him along.

“I don’t think I have a word for it yet.”

I smile against his thumb, and his lips lift in answer. “When you do, let me know, yeah?”

He seems to like me using his words against him, as his smile widens. “I shall.”

We spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing. I learn that Finlo not only loves to hat, but he loves to paint, too.

He finishes our conversation by warning me about the queen, pleading with me to behave myself, which I promise to try.