Page 37 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Thirty-seven

Nell

I am in trouble.

I didn’t hesitate to ask Saffron if she’d spend Christmas with me because of course I want her to, and I definitely don’t want her to have to go back and be with her parents and risk her mental health. But…

I felt it.

Up on the Ferris wheel, when she cracked that perfect, radiant fucking smile and said yes, I felt it. All of it.

She’s been so open with me, I finally feel like I know her. Not just the shiny Saffron facade but the whole person, and I love her even more for it.

I’d never felt closer to her when she smiled at me then, all pink and a little breathless from the cold.

And, incidentally, I also wanted to lean forward and kiss her.

And, also incidentally, I pictured doing just that later that night.

It would be gentle at first, soft and tender so she knew that I meant it, that I wanted it to last, that I’m sticking around long enough for it to last. And then it wouldn’t be.

I’d tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her even closer to me.

I’d grip her face with my free hand and feel the line of her jaw. I might even kiss along it.

And then I’d – well. There were quite a few ‘and then’s.

That romantic attraction that has been flickering away inside me, possibly even since the first night we met, has now also been joined by a physical wanting , and I can’t deny the fact that I am almost definitely in love with Saffron.

And I’ve just invited her to stay with me for the best part of three weeks.

Which, again, I’m glad to do. But there is the small matter of how on earth do I keep my cool for that long with no one else around to act as a buffer?

I know how I feel now but I don’t want her to know it.

If she finds out, she might feel uncomfortable staying with me.

Then I’d have unintentionally forced her back to her parents and made her feel guilty about leaving early and seeming ungrateful, or whatever other nonsense her mean brain would convince her of.

Or, even if (a wonderful if ) she did feel the same way, I still don’t know if she’d be ready to do anything about it, and then it still might be awkward and weird.

I don’t want to pressure her in any way. Even if Jenna is right, I think it’s important that this be on Saffron’s terms.

When we finally got off the Ferris wheel (when the operator came to open our door again, he was clearly feeling a bit sassy – asking us whether we were getting off now or if we’d decided to claim squatter’s rights), we went and joined the others.

Casper narrated the incident that had led to him now having a giant splat of gravy on his jumper.

Vivvie told us all about the ice-skating outfit she was planning to make (even though ‘spandex is a bloody nightmare to sew with’) so that she’s ready next year to properly show off on the rink, but Jenna was quiet.

She stayed quiet for the most part, as did I, on our walk back to the house. Then she went straight to her room with only a cursory goodnight.

I wonder whether Casper had asked Jenna his question and whether that was the cause of her turn towards the taciturn. Whatever he said, though, I’m sure he loves her. I wish Jenna wasn’t so scared of getting her heart broken that she refuses to open it up to the possibility that it might not be.

When I wake up the next day, Jenna’s found her words. I’m still sleepy, on account of it being 7 a.m. (I am, in my purest form, a sleepy little hedgehog), when she wakes me by bouncing down on the foot of my bed.

“Have you seen this?” she says, waving her phone at me.

I crinkle my eyes against the harsh light of the screen. “Jenna, my love, I’ve not seen anything yet today. And I’d rather like to keep it that way for quite some time – mornings are for sleepytime, not for seeing things .”

“Just read it, bitch.”

“Ugh. I’ve been awake ten seconds and I’ve already been verbally assaulted. What a day.”

“Just—”

“READING IT. Jesus. ”

I take the phone off her and see that it’s open to our group chat, where Saffron left a string of messages at half past two last night.

I pause reading to smile at that. I’m so proud of her.

Vivvie’s already replied:

And Casper:

And then Vivvie again:

Saffron:

Vivvie:

Casper:

(Two minutes later.)

I give Jenna back her phone, laughing as I do so. “That was the last message he sent. Do we think Vivvie really killed him this time?”

“Never mind about Casper – he’ll live. Hopefully,” Jenna adds. “What about the Saffron stuff? Did she tell you about her SAD while you were on the wheel for a million hours? And is she seriously coming to stay with you for the holidays? You guys are having Christmas together?”

“Yes and yep,” I say simply. “I’m glad she told you guys too. That feels like a really good sign.”

“Also a good sign? Agreeing to spend Christmas with you. You guys are going to have weeks together. Who knows what could happen?” Jenna waggles her eyebrows at me. And then her tongue.

“Stop that. And yes, I’m excited. And scared.”

She stops with all the waggling. “Why scared?”

“Um…” How do I say this? “Because now I feel like there are no barriers up between us, and it’s also resulted in there being no … barriers around my feelings too.”

“ Ohhhh. I see. You want to bone her.”

“You and Vivvie, you’re both so poetic about these things. Also, yes. Little bit.”

“Well, who knows what’ll happen over the holidays? All the excitement, the late-night parties, all that time together under the mistletoe…” She resumes waggling.

“Uh-huh,” I say tensely. “Who knows?”