We position ourselves on opposite ends of the strip, and I watch as she aligns it carefully with the previous piece. Her focus is intense, her movements precise.
“So,” she says after a moment, “I need to tell you something.”
My stomach clenches, but I keep my voice steady, refusing to believe she’s about to tell me she’s been cheating on me. “I'm listening.”
“I've been going to the hockey rink to see Chris,” she says, her eyes still on the wallpaper.
Well, fuck. She’s just going to come out and immediately rip my heart out, isn’t she?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I hold my breath, wrinkling up the wallpaper, but what does it matter if she’s gone?
“It’s been… a sanctuary, I guess. Somewhere quiet where people can’t get to me.”
“I know Chris has feelings for you,” I say, preempting what she’s about to tell me.
Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. “How did you—”
“Please, Honey. I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” I admit. “Then there are the TikToks.”
“TikToks?” she echoes, looking genuinely confused. “What TikToks?”
I put down my corner of the wallpaper and pull out my phone, opening one of the links Dax sent. Honey's face pales as she watches the compilation, her hand rising to cover her mouth.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I had no idea… This makes it look like—”
“Like you and Chris are a thing,” I finish for her. “Yeah, that's the point. Whoever made these wants people to think you're cheating on me.”
She looks up at me, her eyes suddenly fierce. “But I'm not. I would never—”
“I know. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To tell me.”
“No. Not at all,” she says in disbelief. “I talked to Chris today,” she says, returning to the wallpaper with renewed focus. “And headmitted he finds me attractive, but he respects our relationship. He's not trying to come between us.”
“And you believe him?”
Her hands pause on the wallpaper. “I do. He's been a good friend to me, Zach. When I couldn't find my place at St. Michael's, when the internship started crushing me, when those anonymous messages kept coming—he gave me somewhere to escape to.”
“I wish it could have been me,” I say softly. “I wish that you felt like you could have escaped to me.”
Her shoulders go tight, her fingers smoothing the same seam of wallpaper again and again like she can press the words back down with her fingers.
“You think I didn’t want it to be you?” Her voice is quiet, but it cuts straight through me. She doesn’t look at me, just keeps worrying the paper, her jaw trembling. “You’re the only place that’s ever felt like home, Zach. But lately… every time I walk through your door, I feel like I’m bringing all my broken pieces with me. And I didn’t want you to have to carry them.”
Finally, she glances over, and her eyes are wet, blazing with something that looks a lot like shame.
“So I ran somewhere I could fall apart without disappointing you.”
“You would never disappoint me, Honey.”
“But I disappoint myself. I don't know what I want, what I'm good at, what makes me happy. The internship was supposed to help me figure that out, but I hate it. I'm terrible at it. And the only thing that feels right anymore is being with you, which just makes me more dependent, and lost.”
I step closer, taking her hands in mine. They're sticky with wallpaper adhesive, but I don't care. “You're not lost, Honey. You're finding your way, and I'm not trying to define you—I just want to be beside you while you figure it out.”
“But what if there's nothing to figure out?” she asks, her vulnerability laid bare. “What if I'm just… empty? A reflection of whatever people want me to be?”
“That's the furthest thing from the truth,” I say fiercely. “You're the strongest person I know. You stood up to your father for Tiff. You endured all that gossip and harassment in high school and here at St. Michael's. You've never let anyone tell you who to be or what to want.”