I try to decide whether I should be horrified, but I clench my hand into a fist—the paint’s dry—and stuff it into my hoodie’s pocket.
Iris makes a high-pitched chirp. “Oh mygod! Youlikehim.”
I have my hood up, but it isn’t hiding me enough. “I do not—”
“Coal, you didn’t fight me on the nail colors. Youlikehim. Oh my god!” She tucks her legs up into the chair, beset by manic giggles. “Kris told me you were unhinged last night because of Hex, but I thought it was everything else, not—”
“Okay, okay,stop,because yes, itiseverything else. This whole fake vying for your hand bullshit. That isn’t enough? Let’s not make up other stressors.”
But her grin is downrightferal.“Uh-huh. Sure. I definitely believe you.”
“The way you believed me about him existing?”
“Exactly.”
“No. Iris.” Kris and Iris are the only two people who ever see this side of me, and even they see it so rarely that it takes Iris a beat to realize I’m not dicking around, that the severity on my face is real—real and pleading.
She drops her legs back to the floor and matches my stance, arched towards me. “Coal?”
“I do not like him,” I tell her, stating each word in a level, calm voice that I hope to god sounds convincing. “I cannot like him. You have to help me not like him.”
She shakes her head. “Why?” Then winces. “I know you and I will be… together, but we won’t betogethertogether, so we’re free to be with other people. In secret, I guess.” She scowls. “Fuck. That’s pathetic, isn’t it?”
“No. Well, yes, but we really don’t need to discuss covert bedroom schedules right now.”Because part of me is still hoping we’ll get out of this somehow,I don’t add. “But why areyougoing along with this fake shit? Why aren’t you fighting your dad more? Because I will not mess this up. Because I’m pissed off about what Christmas has become but—but I still fuckingcare,and I will not endanger my Holiday over some guy. Plus, I know what ramifications this could have for you and Easter if I fuck it up, and I won’t be the cause of any more shit for you.”
Iris gapes at me, and I wonder for a second if I have pancake on my face.
But she takes my hand. “All right. All right, Coal. I hear you.”
I wilt over our clasped hands.
“Something’s changed in you,” she says softly.
I groan. “Don’t say that. Makes me want to go streaking through the Toy Factory to prove you wrong.”
“Oh, I think those days might be past you, Nicholas Claus.” She smiles. “You’re almost actingresponsible.”
“Ugh, and to think, you’re someone who claims to love me.” I drop her hands and slouch in the chair. “And why did we get talking aboutmeagain? When I haven’t heard your opinion on your fabulous and completely drama-free suitor party. Did Hex sufficiently sweep you off your feet? Do I have competition?”
The questions make my stomach cramp and I’m regretting the few bites of food I’ve had. That’s an outcome I hadn’t considered: I don’t know what Hex’s deal is, but what if he and Iris legitimately fall for each other?
I rub my chest absently, pretty sure the pancakes are giving me heartburn.
Iris spears a slice of melon with her fork, eyes on the table. Her mood dips so abruptly that all my senses go on alert.
“Can we not talk about that?” she asks.
“Oka-ay,” I drag out. “Why? I came fully prepared to mock each and every aspect of that faux-event.”
“That’s exactly it.” Iris uses her fork to cut the melon slice into smaller and smaller pieces. “I’m sure I’ll want to joke about it someday. But I’m not in the mood for it right now. It’s shitty and I—I don’t really want to talk about it with you yet.”
I frown, watching her cut the melon, no,pulverizeit.
“We don’t have to joke about it,” I say.
Iris throws me the very definition of a disbelieving look. “Oh really? So youdidn’tbring up last night’s party so youcouldstart making jokes and steer the conversation away from all the serious bits we’d been discussing?”
My jaw drops open.
