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Blue could still feel the journal in her hands; it was rough like the texture of calloused, worked over palms-- the same texture of Adam's own palms when she took the journal from Blue, the only sincere smile of the day on her lips.
"Will she have missed it?" Blue chewed on her bottom lip and marked the obvious differences between her own lips and the raven girl who had yet to act like a raven girl's lips. For one, Adam had freckles on hers, barely noticeable under the washed-out glow of the streetlamps. The old and yellowing bruise on her forearm was more forthright but Blue forced herself not to linger.
Adam's lips were also thinner than Blue's and they parted to say "She hasn't noticed it's been gone, but she would have in a few hours." Adam was at least half a foot taller than Blue but she was still mostly sitting on her ill-fitting bicycle, so they were nearly eye level. Blue had never been to the ocean. She had never traveled past the outskirts of Henrietta, not even when she packed up a bundle of clothing and various trinkets into her purple suitcase at the age of ten and ran away from home for a handful of hours. But she had seen pictures and she had built up quite an imagination to make up for her lacking psychic abilities, and she knew Adam's eyes were the exact color of salty sea water.
"In a few hours it'll be about two in the morning" Blue mused, smiling softly, voice and eyes twinkling and she promptly bit back the urge to wrinkle her lip and gag. Am I flirting with her?
Adam smiled back.
Yes.
The streetlamp above them flickered, a distinctly Henrietta gesture in Blue's eyes. Or maybe a Nino's one. Either way, Adam was fully sitting on her bike now, the journal carefully tucked into her frayed messenger bag. Blue supposed it could have been purposefully and artfully distressed but she didn't want to make assumptions, not about Adam, not anymore.
Adam's small "thank you" was drowned out by Blue's "wait". She dug a pen out of one of her pockets and fumbled, finally making an aborted, vague gesture at Adam's person. "Can I...?"
Adam looked around, down at herself and at the gravel below her bike like she couldn't possibly guess what Blue wanted, which made her giggle and snort. Adam's surprised eyes and matching smile started a fire in Blue's chest. It was a small fire, easily contained and easily put out, but it was there. "No, uh- paper. The journal." She pointed at Adam's bag.
"Oh." Adam faltered, her smile now faded. She seemed to be having some sort of argument in her head or perhaps a small crisis. She took the journal out of her bag and almost cradled it. "Um."
Backtracking, Blue shook her head and sputtered. She realized her mistake-- the journal wasn't hers, and she remembered flipping through the pages: old and modern photographs alike, dated maps and neat, precise handwriting scribbled all over the blank spaces. Someone-- Gansey, a voice in her head chided, clearly loved the journal, and Adam knew it. Maybe even loved it too. "No, nevermind. Uh." She rummaged through her many other pockets. She had a lot of pockets. She hoped Adam wasn't judging her for her many pockets.
Finally, she found a ripped up piece of paper from a receipt and gestured for Adam to turn around. She did, and Blue quickly wrote down her seven digits in the best handwriting she could muster at 10:30 p.m. in a dark parking lot, a five hour shift behind her. She also desperately tried to hide her pleased smile when she failed to feel any bra lines on Adam's back.
Adam took the mangled piece of paper and stared at it for a moment before folding it up neatly in half, and then in half again, and sticking it in between the pages of the journal like a bookmark.
She smiled and started to climb up her bike again before Blue blurted out "It's not a cell."
"Sorry?"
Blue chewed her lip and refused to be ashamed. "It's not a cell number. It's a landline. For my house. Where I live with like, nine other people. At least." Her boot kicked the ground. "Most days. So don't try to text me."
Adam looked... relieved? Or something like it, and said "Oh. Okay." She kicked the bike brake up. "I won't." She mimicked Blue's lip chewing and looked like she had something more to say but bit it back, hesitantly. "I'll call then." She turned and Blue let her go this time.
By the time Adam had disappeared from her sight her heart was pounding and she walked on unsteady feet to her own bike. Her palms were sweating and she wiped them on the seat and then her thighs, unsteadily climbing on.
Her mom's voice whispered in the back of her mind "If you kiss your true love, he will die."
Well, joke's on you, fate. I like girls. And I pick this one.