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It was a perfect night.
There were still a few weeks until June, when the California heat would strike with a vengeance and leave everything in its wake sticky and miserable. The velvety skies were cloudless, and the party venue was at some rich kid’s house—so removed from the city that the millions of stars twinkling above were actually kind of visible.
Bass-heavy music thrummed out of an indoor-outdoor speaker system. Some trap beat—Future or Young Thug or something like that. Anne had never really cared for party music, but she could appreciate the way it set the atmosphere.
The air was dense with alcohol, smoke, and sweat. And everywhere around her, the freshly graduated class of ’24 was celebrating the first night of the rest of their lives.
Unfortunately, Anne was too preoccupied looking for Marcy to really enjoy any of it.
She raced around the backyard, pestering everyone in sight. “Hey, sorry to bother you. I lost my friend. Have you seen her? Tiny Asian girl? Wearing a Creatures and Caverns t-shirt?” Anne was photobombing selfies and ruining Tik-Toks left and right, but she couldn’t have cared less. Finding Marcy before the night became a teen-movie-gone-wrong was top priority.
Why did I think it would be a good idea to bring Marcy to a party?
Originally, she’d rationalized that the party might help Marcy blow off some steam. Ever since landing in California, Marcy had been acting... strange. Maybe it was just the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in person since they were thirteen, but Anne had never seen her friend act so reserved.
In the two days that she’d been at the Boonchuy house, Marcy—the girl that could go on tangents long enough to make filibustering politicians sweat—had been exceedingly quiet. Anne had figured that a party could be just the thing to snap Marcy back to life.
Instead, not even two full hours into the night, Marcy had vanished.
Anne tapped on the shoulder of a taller girl with choppy red and black dyed hair.
“Hey, sorry to-,”
The girl turned. “Anne?”
“Oh my God, Sasha!” Anne lit up. “I’m so sorry! I totally didn’t recognize you with-,”
“The hair? Yeah, I got it done yesterday. Pretty hot, right?” Sasha winked. Anne felt her cheeks flush. “Figured I needed a change for graduation. You know, to symbolize entering the next stage of life or whatever.”
“It looks good, Sash.” Anne said.
The two had drifted apart in high school. Anne had found her place with the tennis and track teams while Sasha had taken up the mantle as the head of the cheerleading squad and the GSA. Despite their different friend groups, the two were still close. It was just a different kind of close nowadays.
The call-you-in-the-middle-of-the-night-with-a-sexuality-crisis but ignore-you-in-the-halls kind of close.
“Anyways, who are you looking for?” Sasha asked.
“Oh, right! I’m looking for Marcy. Have you seen her?”
Sasha’s eyebrows rose. “Wait, Marcy’s here? Like, Marcy Wu?”
Anne nodded. “Yeah—I saved up some money and bought her a plane ticket as a surprise graduation gift. But that’s not the important part.” Anne felt her stomach churn. “I swear, she was right there, and then Gabby pulled me aside to talk to me about some stupid drama that went down at Prom, and then when I turned back, Marcy was gone.”
“She didn’t drink anything, did she?” Sasha frowned.
“Just a little. Some guy gave us jungle juice when we walked in, and I convinced her to do a shot with me—but that’s it.”
“Okay. Come on, let’s go look-,”
“Sasha!”
Sasha and Anne turned, only to see another girl approaching them. A look of concern was etched across her face, and her dyed purple hair was in disarray. Anne knew the girl vaguely—but only because she had seen her regularly tagged in Sasha’s Instagram photos.
“Dana! What’s wrong?” Sasha asked.
“Amber’s not doing good. Like, at all. You have to drive her home,” Dana said. “Now.”
“Shit.” Sasha turned to Anne and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Anne. I gotta do this. You think you’ll be okay to find her on your own?”
“Wait, find who?” Dana asked.
“She lost her friend.” Sasha said. Anne frowned—it was weird hearing Marcy referred to as only her friend, and not as both of theirs. “Have you seen her? Asian girl?”
“Wait—with an undercut? Wearing a shirt with a dragon on it?”
“That’s Marcy,” Anne confirmed. “Where did you see her?”
“I saw her in the basement,” Dana said. “She didn’t look too good, so I brought her some water.”
Anne sighed, relief flooding her. Marcy was okay. Given what Dana said, she probably wasn’t doing great—but she was okay. That was all Anne could ask for. “Thank you so much,” Anne said.
Before she could run off to find Marcy, Sasha grabbed her shoulder. “Anne, how long is Marce gonna be in town for?”
“Ten more days,” Anne said. “She leaves the first of June.
Sasha frowned. “Shit. I’m driving out tomorrow to see relatives and I won’t be back in time to see her.” Sasha paused for a moment, glancing between Anne and Dana before apparently deciding that Dana’s issue warranted a bit more urgency than catching up with a friend from middle school. “Sorry, Anne. I wish I could stay. Tell Mar-Mar I said hi. We’ll have to get together sometime later.”
“Definitely,” Anne agreed. Yet, with college on the horizon, she doubted they’d be getting together anytime soon.
With Sasha gone, Anne ran into the house to find Marcy. She had to ask a few people for directions to the basement since the house was big enough to get lost in—but eventually she made her way to it.
The basement was dim. A few can lights in the ceiling offered enough of a warm glow for Anne to make her way around the space, but the visibility still wasn’t great.
From what she could make out, the basement was just as lavish as the rest of the home—boasting plush shag carpets, a decked-out entertainment pit, and an abandoned built-in bar. Two basketball arcade machines sat side-by-side next to a pool table and electronic dart board.
“Mar-Mar, you there?” Anne called.
“Anne? Is that you?” A small voice replied.
The voice came from behind the abandoned bar. Anne gingerly stepped behind the counter, and saw Marcy curled up against the wall. She had her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut, and was using her feet to gently rock herself. An ice bucket sat between her legs—probably in case she felt the need to puke. Anne tentatively peered into it.
Empty. Thank God.
Anne sat down next to Marcy, her hand instinctively finding Marcy’s back. She rubbed circles into it. “I’m glad I found you. I was so worried.”
“Aw, thanks, Anne,” Marcy slurred. “You’re so nice. Like, the nicest.” She lifted her head. Her face was flushed and a bit puffy.
“Woah, are you okay?” Anne asked.
“Oh, I’m great. Totally. I mean, like, not great—but this whole thing-,” Marcy gestured to her ruddy cheeks, “-is completely normal. Textbook Asian glow. Happens when the body lacks the enzyme to digest alcohol correctly. Apparently, it affects like, half of all Eastern Asian people. I’ve always wondered what half I belonged to. Now I guess I know. Wait, hang on-,” Marcy leaned forward and heaved into the ice bucket, but nothing came out. She groaned, leaning back. “Oh, that felt bad.”
“Here, let me get you some more water-,”
“Anne,” Marcy laughed, the sound a bit off-kilter. “Why would you get me water when there are already so many right here?” She waved her hand in the general direction of a half-dozen water bottles sitting on the shelf next to her. “That girl with the purple hair gave them to me. She had a really nice butt.” Marcy’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “Oh, no!”
“What, Marcy? What’s wrong?” Anne’s heartbeat quickened.
Marcy leaned back and made a noise halfway between frustration and despair. “Anne, I’m objectifying women.”
Anne laughed. Marcy really doesn’t do well with alcohol. “Dude, you’re fine. I’m sure Dana would be cool with it.”
Marcy nodded for a moment, carefully considering Anne’s words. Then, she furrowed her eyebrows. “Does... does Dana also know?”
“Know... what?”
“That we’re in a skyscraper right now.”
Anne blinked. “Oh-kay, Mar-Mar. How much more did you drink after you ran off? You’re acting seriously weird right now.”
“It’s hard to say,” Marcy hummed. “Let’s see... well, after we got separated, I tried looking around for you, but I couldn’t find you. I started getting kind of nervous, so somebody told me to go to the garage-,”
Anne could’ve had a heart attack. She’d made sure to steer clear from the garage throughout the night because she knew that was where everyone snuck off to take hits of each other’s dab pens. “Marcy, you didn’t-,”
“I was anxious!” Marcy defended. “Isn’t that supposed to help? It... it seemed logical at the time. But anyways, after that my mouth got super dry, so I went to get more juice from the kitchen or whatever-,”
“What juice?” Anne asked.
“That red punch. It was the same kind that we got when we walked in.”
Anne balked. “Marcy, there was alcohol in that. You know that, right?”
“Oh, man. That’s not good,” Marcy said, laughing nervously.
“How much did you even drink?”
“Two cups. Maybe three.” Marcy paused. “Um, it was definitely less than four.”
“I swear, I could kill you right now,” Anne groaned.
Anne turned to look at Marcy. In truth, not much had changed about her since Middle School—at least, not physically. She was still short. Still so skinny, Anne’s mom had insisted on feeding her almost as soon as she’d walked through the door. Yet, there were some subtle changes. Her soft face had sharpened out a little, high cheekbones now prominent. She’d also gotten an undercut, though it was hidden when her hair was down.
Over the years, Anne had learned to accept change. Embrace it, even. But she had to admit, it was nice that some things could stay the same.
Like the gentle, admiring look that always consumed Marcy’s coal-dark eyes whenever she looked at Anne. Like the way Marcy always said Anne’s name—the same way somebody else might say “wow!” Like how Marcy had the tendency to gravitate towards Anne, inching closer and closer until the two were inevitably touching.
Something seemed to shift in the air and all at once, everything seemed a little heavier, until even the oxygen felt hard to swallow.
“It always ends up like this, doesn’t it?” Marcy said, her expression faltering.
“Like what?”
“You know. Me doing something stupid. You protecting me.” Marcy explained. She kept her eyes locked on some invisible target across the room, and though she was still swaying, it was evident that she was trying to sober herself.
Anne shrugged. “Well, at least this time there are no life-threatening consequences, right? I mean, I guess alcohol poisoning, technically. But that’s still way easier to manage than killer barbari-ants.”
“Is it, though?” Marcy asked. “I mean, when we were fighting the barbari-ants, I knew exactly what to do. I was totally confident and in control. But here, I’m just... scared.”
“Here?” Anne questioned. “Like, at this party, or-,”
“On Earth,” Marcy clarified. A broken laugh bubbled out of her, and she choked on the ghost of a sob. “Anne... do you ever wish that you had stayed in Amphibia?”
Anne’s breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure if there was anything that she could say.
The truth was, leaving Amphibia had been one of the hardest things that she had ever had to do. Even though it had been five years, Anne still missed Wartwood and the Plantars more than anything. She missed goofing off with Sprig, and getting into trouble with Polly, and even getting lectures from Hop-Pop. She missed driving Bessie and going on adventures. She even missed eating bugs (much less so than the other things, but still).
Yet, even though her longing for Amphibia still felt like an open wound sometimes, Anne had never once regretted the decision she had made to return to her normal life on Earth. This was her home. The place where she belonged.
Apparently, Marcy didn’t feel the same way.
Anne reached for Marcy’s hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “Do you wish you’d stayed?”
Marcy nodded, a wobbly smile crossing her lips. “All the time. I mean, don’t get me wrong—Wi-Fi and air conditioning are great. But in Amphibia, I was the chief ranger of the Newtopian Knight Guard. I was an advisor to a king!”
“An evil king,” Anne corrected.
“He was a little misunderstood, sure,” Marcy dismissed. “But the point remains. I was everything in Amphibia. On Earth, I’m nothing.”
“That’s not true-,”
“Stop it, Anne!” Marcy snapped. The sudden anger shocked Anne, and she let go of Marcy’s hand on impulse. Marcy reached out for Anne, but quickly thought better of herself and retracted her palm, cradling it close to her chest instead. “You can’t lie to me just because I’m drunk or high or whatever. Seriously, it’s okay, you can say it: I’m a loser. I have no friends. No future-,”
“No future?” Anne tilted her head, confused. “Marcy, what are you talking about? You’re the smartest person I know. What about college?”
Marcy winced. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you this until tomorrow because I didn’t want to ruin your graduation... but I’m too far gone to care right now.” Marcy sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Anne, I’m not going to college. I didn’t even apply.”
“What? Why not?”
Marcy shook her head. “I mean, you know my parents. I’ve been studying for the SAT and ACT since sixth grade. I got a 36 on the ACT, by the way. 1580 on the SAT; but that was an off day.” Marcy frowned, her voice trailing off for a moment before apparently remembering the topic at hand. “Anyways, I realized not too long ago that nothing I did would ever be good enough for my parents. I could go to Harvard and become a Supreme Court Judge. I could go to MIT and get my Master’s in Civil Engineering. I could... I could... well, you get the idea.”
“Marcy...” Anne’s felt her heart squeeze. She had kept in contact with Marcy over the years—of course—but it was starting to occur to her that Marcy might’ve needed more than the occasional holiday or birthday text.
“No, it’s okay, Anne. Because... because, I realized that I would never be happy with any of that either.” Marcy’s exhaled shakily. She forced a brave smile. “Dad hasn’t said a word to me since January. He hasn’t tried to kick me out though, so... yay, I guess?”
Marcy strained as if to hold on to her grin longer, but it was a fruitless effort. Her smile crumbled into a pained grimace. Sobs started to breach the surface of her throat, and in a last-ditch effort to compose herself, she pressed her trembling fingers against her leaking eyes.
Anne reached forward, delicately wrapping her arms around Marcy’s bony frame. “God, Marcy. I’m so sorry.” She pulled Marcy close to her chest. Marcy accepted the embrace, her fingers clenching around the fabric of Anne’s flannel and pulling Anne closer to her.
“I’m such a screw-up, Anne. All I ever do is make mistakes.” Marcy said, her voice garbled amongst the tears. “I was so desperate to go to Amphibia because the thought of being alone was... terrifying. And now, my worst fear has come true. And it hurts just as bad as I thought it would.”
Anne was at a loss for words. She wanted to say something comforting, like “You’re not alone. You have me,” but even she knew that the words would feel cheap. After all, she hadn’t even kept up with Marcy enough to know that she had decided to skip out on her college applications.
I’m such a crappy excuse for a friend, Anne thought, a pang of guilt striking her.
“I’m so scared right now, Anne. Everything is so loud, and the room won’t stop spinning, and—and-,” Marcy’s breathing quickened—short, shallow little breaths that cried for oxygen and craved stability.
“Mar-Mar, it’s okay,” Anne said, trying hard to extinguish her own mounting anxiety so that she could focus on the panicked girl in her arms. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, I-I... I can,” Marcy choked out.
“Good. Listen to my voice,” Anne said. She hugged Marcy closer, shivering as she felt Marcy’s tears soak through the thin fabric. “I know you’re freaking out right now. I kind of am, too. But we’re going to get through this, okay? It’s just the alcohol and the weed getting to you, Marcy. That’s all.”
Marcy nodded stiffly.
“Do you want to try and puke it up?” Anne asked, eyes flickering to the abandoned ice bucket.
Marcy shook her head. “Please don’t make me do that, Anne.”
“Of course. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Anne reassured her.
Anne resumed rubbing circles into Marcy’s back. Slowly but surely, Marcy’s sobs died down into whimpers. Eventually, Marcy fell so silent that Anne wondered if she had fallen asleep. Anne checked the time on her phone. It was only half-past midnight. From the muffled sounds of the music upstairs, it was clear that the party was still going full tilt.
“Anne?” Marcy’s voice was small and hoarse. “Can we go home?”
Anne smiled. “Of course, dude. I’ll order the Uber now.”
###
By some miracle, both of Anne’s parents were fast asleep by the time the girls had snuck in through the back door.
Anne thanked her lucky stars—with the way Marcy was swaying and slurring, she wouldn’t have been able to pass as sober if her life depended on it. Anne sat Marcy down at the dining table as she quickly fished out an old sports bottle from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with tap water.
Anne grabbed Marcy by the wrist and tugged her up the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky one that had thwarted more than its fair share of her escapades in the past.
Anne nodded towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. “Bathroom, Marcy?”
Marcy nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to puke now.”
Anne cringed. “I’ll get your toothbrush.”
After holding back Marcy’s hair while the girl puked out an unholy amount of bile, Anne waited patiently outside the bathroom as Marcy washed up. Idly, she checked her phone. One text from Sasha lit up her notifications.
Sasha: did you find the nerd?
Anne texted back quickly.
Anne: Yeah. We’re home now.
Her phone dinged almost instantly. Sasha must have been waiting for Anne’s text. The thought made Anne smile.
Sasha: she okay?
Anne: I mean, define ‘okay,’ but yeah. She’s alright. Just puked, so hopefully she got most of it out of her system.
Sasha: guess we’re both on hair holding duty tonight.
Anne: Guess so lol.
The sound of the door opening behind her made Anne turn. Marcy loomed in the doorway, still dazed but looking marginally better than she had been earlier. She’d changed into her sleep attire—a pair of flannel boxers and an oversized black hoodie with mushrooms embroidered onto it.
“Bed,” Marcy groaned, eyes closed. She reached blindly for Anne’s guiding hand.
Anne laughed inwardly, pulling Marcy into her room. “You must really not feel good if you’re the one suggesting sleep, Mar-Mar,” Anne remarked. She pulled Marcy onto her bed, helping her friend shimmy under the covers.
“Wait, I sleep on the wall side,” Marcy said, attempting to scoot back.
“Nope,” Anne gingerly grabbed Marcy’s shoulder. She crawled over Marcy’s body, careful not to accidentally knee the girl, and occupied the half of the bed closest to the wall. “We’re doing it this way in case you need to puke again.”
“That makes so much sense,” Marcy slurred. “Galaxy-brained, Anne.” She turned to face Anne, though her eyes were still shut.
“Uh-huh,” Anne said, tucking herself under the covers.
Seeing Marcy this way—so innocently curled up next to her—made Anne’s chest ache. Yet, the ache wasn’t painful. Unexpectedly, it felt nice. She didn’t want to put a name to it, for fear of what consequences that would bring, but she was happy enough just to bask in it.
“Anne,” Marcy murmured. “Can you rub my back again?”
Anne nodded, reaching out to wrap her arm around Marcy’s side. She ran the tips of her fingers up and down Marcy’s back, pausing only when she felt a foreign bump right in the center, just a bit to the right of the spine. Anne traced the bump, curiously inspecting it.
“Are you touching my scar?” Marcy asked.
Anne pulled her hand away as if she had just touched a hot flame. “Oh, man, Marcy, I’m sorry-,”
“No, no, it’s fine. I was just checking. I can’t really feel the skin around it anymore,” Marcy said.
“Is it numb?”
“Mostly,” Marcy yawned. “When King Andrias... when he... you know, impaled me, I think his sword ended up damaging a lot of my nerve endings. I can feel pressure, but not light touches. Same thing on my chest.” Marcy laughed weakly. “Obviously, I’m not going to make you touch that one, though.”
Anne was struck by the confusing sensation of disappointment.
Marcy opened her eyes and looked up at Anne. Anne could tell by her unfocused expression that she was still pretty hazy. “Hey, I’m really, really sorry for ruining the graduation party. You should’ve been enjoying it, not babysitting me.” Marcy furrowed her brows. “And I’m extra sorry for unloading all that baggage on you.”
“Seriously, dude, it’s okay,” Anne said. She pulled Marcy into a tight hug. “I should be the sorry one. All this time, you needed a friend, and I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been.”
“It’s okay. You have your own life, and I get that,” Marcy said. “I’m not mad at you.”
Anne tried to accept Marcy’s words, but it was still hard not to blame herself. She idly started to rub Marcy’s back again. “Did you mean what you said? About wanting to be back in Amphibia?”
“Yeah,” Marcy admitted. “But I also know that even if I could somehow go back, it would be pointless without you and Sasha.” She pushed back a little, creating some distance between herself and Anne. Marcy looked into Anne’s eyes, as if searching for the answer to an impossible question. She swallowed hard. “Anne...”
And then Marcy leaned forward, and they were kissing—delicate, clumsy, and unsure. Anne felt her heart beating out of her chest, felt the hairs on her arms stand on end, felt the exhilarating rush that could only come with the sensation of being loved. She surrendered to Marcy, for once in her life allowing her friend to set the pace and take the lead. Her hands found the back of Marcy’s head, where the shaved part of her undercut was starting to grow back in, and held it securely, as if to say, “It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”
The kiss ended like a dying match—slowly and reluctantly, leaving only the ghost of something warm behind.
“You’re amazing, Anne. Like, so amazing...” Marcy murmured, her head falling back against the pillow. “I’m so glad we’re friends, you know? It’s like...”
Anne’s heart sank as she listened to Marcy ramble. With every word, it was becoming more and more evident that Marcy was still very crossed and very out of it.
The euphoria from moments earlier had all but extinguished. Marcy was too intoxicated to recognize the weight of the irreversible thing that she had just done. Too intoxicated to realize that she had just kissed Anne. Too intoxicated to realize that Anne had kissed back.
Would Marcy have done that if she was sober? Anne wondered, her thoughts racing, would she have wanted to?
“Anne?” A flash of anxiety crossed Marcy’s half-lidded eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Anne forced a smile. “Don’t worry, Mar-Mar. You probably won’t even remember any of this tomorrow.”
Marcy seemed to accept this, closing her eyes, and burrowing back into Anne’s chest. She wriggled beneath Anne’s arm. “In that case, you’ll have to fill me in.”
“I will,” Anne said. Though, for your sake, I might just leave some details out.
“The room’s still spinning,” Marcy mumbled.
“I know, Marcy. But I’ve got you, okay? Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Anne pulled Marcy closer to her, until she could rest her chin atop Marcy’s soft hair. That ache was back—but this time, it hurt. It hurt so bad, it made Anne want to rip herself out of her own skin. And yet, she still didn’t want the hurt to stop. Rather, she wanted to indulge it. To nurture it into something good again.
Finally, she gave herself the liberty to identify it with a name: want.
###
Anne woke to the sound of Marcy’s strained voice. “Anne?”
Anne yawned. She stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What’s up, Mar-Mar?”
“Do you have any painkillers? My head feels like a bomb about to go off. Man, what did we do last night? I don’t remember anything past the garage.” Marcy cut herself off with a gag. She made a face as she swallowed down the bile threatening to surface and shivered. “Never. Drinking. Again.”
Anne laughed. She reached beneath her bed, pulling out a small, insulated lunch box. Inside, it contained everything necessary for staving off a hangover: Pedialyte, Ibuprofen, and caffeine pills. Sasha had been the one to recommend the idea way back when they were first entering high school.
Anne had only utilized her hangover-helper kit once before—but she’d made sure to restock it in anticipation for the graduation party.
She passed Marcy the kit, instructing her on how much of each to take.
Marcy’s face twitched at the taste of the Pedialyte (grape was the only flavor that the corner store had in stock), but she chugged it down as directed. “Seriously, Anne. What happened last night?”
Anne dug around her backpack, pulling out her car keys. She slipped on a loose shirt and a pair of jean shorts and wrestled her hair into a ponytail with a technicolor scrunchie.
“I can’t tell you until we’re out of the house. Come on, party animal. Get dressed, and I’ll drive us to Blu Jam for breakfast,” Anne said.
Marcy didn’t have to be told twice. She forewent the idea of dressing nicely, merely hiking a pair of green joggers over her boxers and exchanging her hoodie for a more weather-appropriate graphic tee.
The Blu Jam café was already alive with the morning hustle when Anne and Marcy walked in. Somehow, they managed to wrangle a table by the window.
“I did what?” Marcy nearly choked on her pancakes, laughing.
“I know, I know!” Anne replied. “I have no idea how you didn’t piece it together that the punch was spiked.”
“And I thought we were in a skyscraper? Why?!” Marcy put her face in her hands. “That makes no sense. A basement is the vertical opposite of a skyscraper!”
“You were pretty far gone, Mar-Mar,” Anne said. She bit her lip. “Um, you also told me about not applying for college. Along with some other... personal stuff.”
Marcy’s smile faded. “Oh.”
“Hey,” Anne reached out, touching Marcy’s arm. “It’s all good. We talked it out.”
Marcy nodded, taking a bit more time to process this bit of information. Her eyes flickered down to her plate. She picked at her food. “Is that... is that all I did?” She chuckled awkwardly. “I didn’t like, lose my virginity or anything like that, right?”
Anne almost spat out her orange juice. “God, Marcy, no. After that, we pretty much just went home.”
“And then?”
“And then you puked, and we went to sleep,” Anne said. Guilt carved a hole in her chest. She felt bad lying to Marcy, but she knew that it was best to keep the kiss to herself. That way, only Anne would have to swallow down the cocktail of emotions served in the aftermath.
Marcy sighed, a mix of relief and something unreadable leaving her. “Gosh. Well, hey, thanks for taking care of me, Anne. You’re a lifesaver.”
Anne smiled, and for a moment, she could almost dismiss the horrible feeling in her chest. The hurt and the want—both crying for attention.
They were hard to deny, though. She wanted to do a million things. She wanted to hold Marcy’s hand, and hold it tight. She wanted to confess to Marcy that she had been thinking of her ever since she had moved away, even if she hadn’t made the effort to reach out. That she had FaceTimed Sasha at two in the morning at the beginning of junior year confused and scared because Marcy had posted a selfie on Instagram of her new undercut, and it was making Anne feel things that she didn’t even have a name for yet.
Mostly, she wanted to lean over the table separating them, and kiss Marcy like Marcy had kissed her—impulsively, clumsily, lovingly. She wanted Marcy to feel that same agonizing ache, that white-hot sensation of want.
But she knew that forcing those feelings upon Marcy would be unfair. Marcy, who was so crossed that she hadn’t been able to tell a basement from a skyscraper, couldn’t have known what she was doing when she kissed Anne.
It wouldn’t have been right for Anne to make Marcy deal with the consequences of a kiss that she didn’t even mean. No matter how badly Anne wanted her to.
And so, Anne just laughed, easy and carefree. “Of course, Marcy. What are friends for?”