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1067 pages, Unknown Binding
Published July 19, 2017
"Well, when it's the right person, I don't think you'll have any doubts," Kevin [George] says sagely. I tell him it's unlike him to be so wise, and he shrugs. "Well, I also charmed your shoelaces to trip you," he says, just as I take a step and stumble clumsily to the ground.
I was young then; I said a lot of things I didn't mean, like "I'm straight," or "of course I'll call you tomorrow."
"Let's do something," he whispers. "Like what?" I ask. "Have some coffee and watch the sunrise," he says. I tell him the sun isn't rising anytime soon, but he seems to consider this a trivial detail.
I'm a few drinks past tipsy now. Am I attracted to him? I'm not going to say that I'm not. Maybe that's an odd suspicion to have about myself, but there it is.
"Dinner?" Henry [Bill] asks, appearing at my door. I look up. "Is that an invitation?" I ask, because it's sometimes hard for me to tell. He smiles. "Come on," he says, and I follow.
I have to be an active participant in this little bout of nothingness, because if I am not a siren, then I am simply sad and lonely and scared.
Pol [George] steps closer and I swallow heavily, nearly tripping over a set of enchanted wooden ducks that quack their way across the floor. He says my name in a low voice, his brown eyes settling on mine. "Am I really so terrible?" he asks me, and it's a devastating question, because he is not. He's charming and funny and clever, and he's really rather handsome and oh, so young- and therein lies the terror.
"Is it my ear?" he asks, gesturing to the side of his head. "Is it because I'll never be able to wear glasses?" he bemoans.
Do I like sex, or do I like orgasms? This might require additional exploration. I make a note in my diary scheduling time to look into it, and promptly fall asleep.
Luckily my afternoon panic takes me almost to the end of the day.
Marvelous.
"I want you," I tell him, because I know he's never heard those words before. "I want you," repeat as I lean forward, kissing him. "Only you," I whisper, and he pulls me into his chest.
It's never actually occurred to me to be sorry before. I'd so long thought of my family's crimes as belonging to Brutus [Lucius] alone, but clearly they're mine too, even if I never technically raised a wand in defense of my prejudices. I worried about the implications of our choices, of course, but never like this. I'd never wondered what centuries of family's rhetoric might have cost a handsome young man who'd done no wrong. I find it doesn't sit well with me at all, even as Cassius [Bill] slides an arm around my waist, drawing lightly with his nails against my skin.
I sometimes imagine myself doing maths, which seems relatively straightforward. I always seemed to lack a connection to magic. The spare dregs of it I had were such a strain I often had headaches while I was in school, like I was squeezing every last drop of magic out of myself and it left me shriveled up and wasted every night.
Is it strange to spend all day cleaning the house in advance of a threesome?