i feel pretty.

–

Jamie froze momentarily when Stella pressed him, cheeks pillowed with cheesy pasta. He had once yearned for someone to just ask him what he liked and cared to know him, only now that there was someone asking, he wasn’t sure what to say. History had taught him that oversharing either made people uncomfortable or extremely interested. Neither things he was particularly equipped to handle at the moment.

The lasagna went down his throat in one big lump. He then too was looking for the water.

“I enjoy experiencing stories. Reading them, watching them in movies, hearing about them in song. It’s interesting to see what kind of things are hidden beneath other people’s metaphors.”

Jamie shifted in his seat, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. He felt a bit exposed, even if he’d only given her a watered down version of what he really did for fun. Admitting that he enjoyed sticking his nose into things no one wanted him to see would’ve been like admitting that he enjoyed bickering with Griffin. It was an unspoken fact of Jamie.

The discomfort disappeared under a skeptical look when he noticed how Stella had faltered. 

“Were you? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded a little hopeful there,” he said. “Do they normally have serial killers in the romcoms you’re watching?”

Furrowing his brow at her double negatives, Jamie took it as his cue to get up and grab some water for the both of them. He stopped by the drink cooler and picked up two cartons of milk while he was at it, just to buy himself a bit more time to think of how not to hurt Stella’s feelings before returning to the table.

Jamie placed the drinks down. One for her, three for him. “While I appreciate your efforts, I am already… contented,” he explained carefully. “Being at school stimulates me in ways a lover never could and now, as you’ve said, we have a serial killer too. What more can a guy ask for?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“How... poetic,” Stella took the time to conclude, unsure of it she needed to find a way to backtrack or simply move on now that she had clearly made Jamie uncomfortable.

With each new piece of the puzzle that the male revealed to her, she was able to put together a fuller picture. Jamie was much more than the sarcastic goth that he presented himself to be - he was kind and caring (when needed), with a clear need to feel self-sufficient. He was smart, but that could be masked by assumptions from his accent and his weird affinity for cryptids. He was morbid, but she was pretty sure even he understood limits. And now she knew he liked deep diving into stories, unearthing truths.

He was also a senior. Would they keep in touch when he graduated? Or was their friendship now on borrowed time? That particular piece of the puzzle had yet to be discovered, and so Stella resolved to try the ‘moving on’ option, for Jamie’s sake.

He beat her to it, however.

“Wishful thinking on your part,” she barely had time to insist before Jamie had put some distance between them. Enough that it was clear to her, at least, that they had reached the intermission of their meal. Would Jamie come back with twelve slices of cake? Six more flans? Another basket of bread? Tough to say, but Stella took advantage of the break, locating the silverware and grabbing what she needed before sliding back into her chair.

She had just stuffed a bite of lasagna in her mouth when Jamie reappeared, several drinks balanced in his hands. And one of them was clearly for her.

Kind and caring? Check.

“Thanks,” she nodded, reaching for the water. One sip later and she was speaking up again.

“To answer your earlier question, because you ditched before I could get to it - no, most romcoms do not have serial killers. But do most slasher films not also have romance? Isn’t that what’s supposed to make it hurt for the final girl or whatever? That it’s someone they never saw coming because they were blinded by love? You say that you’re contented, so obviously I won’t push, but if you hadn’t added that part in and had instead relied on movie logic, you would have lost this fun little debate. I don’t believe for a second that a serial killer is part of your personal contentment, though. Your shock value statements do not work on me, Jamie Ward.”

“No… No, I’m not some lunatic who is pro-war,” Griffin clarified with a shake of his head. He debated whether his next statement was offensive or not for only a second before barreling ahead. “Girls that look like you don’t usually care one way or the other though. Then again, they also read Cosmos like this…” He reached forward, gently taking the book from Stella’s hands and flipping it upside down, then placing it back in her grip.

He was actually delighted that she’d taken the book club idea and run with it - any forum where Griffin could rant about his literary opinions was a place to be cherished - until Eve’s name left her mouth. The librarian’s absence weighed heavily on him; enough that he couldn’t imagine how Stella was feeling about it. Not only did it hit much closer to home, but the unknown aspect of it all kept it persistently on his mind. 

“Okay… you’ve got to explain it to me, because I grew up an only child so I have no concept of siblings, but how is it that Henry is Henry and you balk at the prospect of gym class?” he asked, with a smile that was overly warm to encourage the topic to remain off of Schroedinger’s librarian. “I understand adoption, I’m not dense. But surely you were both raised with some sort of… I don’t know… ex-MLB star father who was always a little too harsh on you at tee-ball?” 

Exploding in a rocket was not Griffin’s idea of a good time either, so he couldn’t fault Stella for wanting to stay behind the supercomputer. No matter how adorable the image of her in a spacesuit was. “Yeah, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he replied. “’Professional poet’ hasn’t been on anyone’s resume since the Enlightenment. The plan right now is to send out as many applications as I can, see what responses I receive, and figure it out from there. If I throw all the darts at the board, I’m bound to get something. That’s the current theory.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Girls that look like you don’t usually care one way or the other though.

It was a statement that needed dissection, and though Stella had never been the biggest fan of biology, luckily she was at the very least a science major with plentiful experience. Girls that look like you - a compliment, perhaps, worth a smile. The rest of it... not ideal. A shock to her system, actually.

All at once, there was a war of thoughts playing out in Stella’s mind. Oh no versus you can fix him, no one is perfect. “Oh,” she managed to say. She knew not being pretty before had kept people from seeing her, but she hadn’t anticipated that her shift might also keep people from... seeing her. Could she not be hot and smart? In settings outside of class perhaps she’d been masking things a bit, but she hadn’t been presented with such a blunt reminder of the question until Griffin had made his truly idiotic statement.

Maybe Griffin was hot but dim.

“I know some people think it’s cool not to care, but I’m not one of those people,” she continued after a moment, carefully avoiding saying anything too controversial. She needed to keep the version of him that she had created in her mind for a just moment more. “Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.”

She’d had enough of Cosmos for the moment, so she didn’t bother properly righting it. Instead she simply closed the book and set it aside, relieved to be quickly moving on to another, more common topic of conversation. 

“I did what I had to do to survive gym, but Henry was always good at sports - even before we were siblings,” Stella recalled, certain of that fact even though she didn’t have the most solid memory when it came to the before-times. “Our parents have been described as Silicon Valley titans, so we’re both overachievers who have been specifically instructed to follow our dreams. There may be a genetic predisposition that skipped a generation. Who knows? But we both found our ‘things’ pretty early and we’ve stuck to them.”

Clearly the Kirkpatricks weren’t the only ones encouraged to dream big, but Stella didn’t allow herself to say it. She was sure that Griffin knew the potential pitfalls that came with majoring in... English? Was that it?

     “I imagine quite a lot is classed as a red flag in your book,” he mumbled, making the slur in his words more prominent. Perhaps not a fair comment. He should probably tell her he did not join in with everything his friends did, hence why they had left him to wander off on their own. But she seemed happy to move on the conversation. 

As he watched her, it dawned on him that this was the first real conversation the two of them would have had in months. Alone, anyway. Their interactions were mostly limited to family dinners and meetings of the Secret Village, speaking indirectly to each other only if they had to. Admittedly, maybe that was Henry’s doing more than hers. 

     “I’m sure they know even less than I do about luaus.”

Henry wasn’t sure if telling Stella he had at one point known Cami very well - physically at least - was an appropriate thing to do. It seemed like the kind of thing a brother and sister might tell each other. But they weren’t that kind of siblings.

     “I know her,” he said vaguely, not sober enough to hide the smirk from his face, “She’s…I don’t think she’s suggesting this for any reason other than she thinks you’d be a good fit. She’s a good person.”

It pained him to say it, considering he was sure that Cami, with good reason, wouldn’t give such a positive assessment of his personality. Whatever his personal feelings about the stupidity of sororities and fraternities, Cami wasn’t manipulating his sister into something nefarious.

He wasn’t sure enough of himself or his sister to tell whether she was complimenting his single-minded dedication to rowing. Or making fun of him for it. Stella had never been mean-spirited. But when he thought about the vacant look that came across his parents’ faced when he spoke about it, he couldn’t help but conflate her opinion with theirs.

     “Gathering of individuals?” he laughed, “You manage to make it sound way more suspicious than it actually is.”

Although, maybe that was for good reason. Stella had seemed more on board with the idea that something linked their group to what was happening on campus and around town.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Stella knew that she and Henry weren’t all that close anymore, and perhaps he was angry with her for having followed him to the Secret Village in the spring, and also he was clearly drunk, but all of those factors didn’t help to soothe the sting of her brother’s judgmental murmuring. She didn’t mean to flinch, but it couldn’t be helped. Instead she simply avoided eye contact, looking past him to observe the room.

“I don’t know how much you know, so that’s not a particularly helpful reference for me. You could have done a ton of research on luaus since high school. You could have gone to Hawaii.”

Her tone was light, as neutral as she could make it even though there was a certain amount of hurt still seeping into the words. They had once been so close. What had happened? Why did she feel like she needed to walk on eggshells around her own brother?

Stella was glad, actually, that they had Cami and Greek life to talk about in that moment. Anything truly heavy would not have been productive in Henry’s current state, and it wasn’t appropriate for their setting either. She had no intention of opening a door that they could not close that evening, even if the words she had just spoken may have hinted otherwise.

However, Stella could have done without the look on Henry’s face as he processed her question about knowing Cami. There were certain things that they had not talked about - and would not, even if they were still close - and romantic relationships or intimacy in any form was definitely one of those topics. She didn’t care to know, and Henry’s smirk (even though she’d had to catch it out of the corner of her eye) had been entirely too informative. 

At least the male’s verbal answer had been illuminating enough. Stella hadn’t doubted that Cami was coming from a good place with things, but it was always important to check references.

“The jury is still out on the sorority thing. I might let them court me, attend some events... nothing about it is guaranteed anyway, even though Cami seems to want me there and she has some sway. I know that I benefit from it, generally, but I don’t love nepotism.”

She hadn’t meant to be funny with her description of the Secret Village, so the laugh that Henry let out caught her off guard. It was enough to get her eyes to refocus on the male, another semi-careful line of questioning falling from her lips before she could stop it.

–

“People,” Jamie told her, sounding short about it. He’d charged Henry a premium to keep their tutoring sessions a secret and although Jamie would’ve sold his honor for a price, he didn’t think Henry would’ve appreciated being outbid by lasagna. 

He grabbed a tray and made his way to the buffet line. Having free access to food was one of the many luxuries of attending Henrietta that Jamie was never able to get used to. The first time he had dinner there, he’d stockpiled his plate full of hotdogs thinking that they’d run out only to find that once the tray was empty, another one was brought in. It was a poor kid’s paradise. Jamie still stacked his plates with food whenever he had the funds to eat on campus, mostly for the thrill of seeing more come out of the kitchen. 

“I do, actually. Why do I need to listen to anyone else when I already know that they’re wrong?” he asked with no intention of getting an answer when he was distracted by the shiny, wiggly exterior of what looked like upside-down pudding. Jamie grabbed a helping of that too before making his way to an empty table.

“Who says morbid discovery and grueling coursework isn’t fun? Have you met me on a Saturday night? Looking up weird stuff on the internet is the definition of fun.”

He furrowed his brow at Stella when she swiped a piece of bread from his horde of carbs before looking plain confused. Jamie stalled, uncertain of how to digest what had come out of her mouth. Clearly, Jamie had underestimated Stella’s conversational prowess.

“I said cold and quiet, didn’t I? I don’t think you quite fit the bill,” he said, trying to sound polite about it, even when his face was screaming horror. “Why are you so invested in this?“

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

King Jamie of Unsatisfactory Answers was at it again that day, clearly, with how little she was getting from him, and were it any other question, maybe she would have been pouting less. However, she was but a baby bird, still working on fully understanding the strength of her own wings as she attempted to leave the nest. Her self-confidence was still a little fragile, and hearing that someone (or even multiple someones) had been questioning her choice of company threw her off her game.

“People,” she repeated, eyes narrowed as she tossed her own slice of lasagna onto her tray.

Huh.

She left Jamie as she moved to craft a side salad, attempting to come up with her own list of possible inquirers. They weren’t parted for long, and her brainstorming was unsuccessful. However, by the time they were reunited, Stella knew there was no point in pursuing the question further. It did not cross her mind that if Jamie was hoping to avoid people asking why they were hanging out, that they should not be publicly dining together at a campus hotspot. She simply accepted it and worked to move on.

At least they could still riff on the type question. And perhaps Jamie would actually be open to a real chat about it, given that he would have nowhere else to run while he shoved lasagna, bread, flan, etc. into his body.

“I would actually love to hear your full definition of fun,” Stella echoed, setting her own tray down on the table before she let her eyes flit about the room to find both the location of the cups for water and silverware. In previous years she hadn’t spent a whole lot of time in the dining hall, preferring the comfort of her dorm room and DH takeout boxes instead. It wasn’t like her dining hall debut was with Jamie, but she also didn’t have a clear map of the space in her mind yet.

She wasn’t able to truly concentrate on the task, though, because Jamie’s response to her teasing about being his type was... odd. Off enough that the male actually required her full attention. What was with that expression?

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” she tried to continue to joke, but it was falling flat. Why had his response been so weird? She wasn’t... that bad, was she?

“You can relax. I was joking. And I’m invested because I want the people I like to be happy. I realize that doesn’t mean that they need love, but it sure does seem to help when times are tough in romcoms. And considering how there’s a potential serial killer on the loose, times aren’t not tough right now.”

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍

No, no Cami could not understand the sadness that came with leaving summer behind. In her eyes, home was hell for the holidays. It was why she usually spent thanksgiving, Christmas, every holiday break on campus. The only reason she hadn’t stayed for the summer was because she couldn’t afford it.

Going home was always a nightmare. The people there knew her based on her cup size and her sexuality. Not like here where she her power came with her name alone. Here people trembled and fell over themselves to get her attention.

“I do a little bit of everything being President,” Cami smiled and offered for Stella to sit down on one of the lawn chairs at her table. It was a good way to recruit people, make them feel comfortable with you. She offered her a glass of lemonade as well.

“I make sure that my Vice Presidents are following regulations for their planning. I’m in charge of ensuring that events run smoothly, people are doing what they’re supposed to, and keeping in contact with the board. I also handle a lot of the recruitment aspects and initiation process. It’s a lot of work but I consider it really rewarding.”

Cami hummed to herself thinking about all the work that was important to planning that was needed for this semester. “Community service is really important to us.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It felt important for Stella to set some boundaries with Cami right off the bat - something that was critical if she were to legitimately consider the whole sorority thing. After all, if the President couldn’t pick up on her cues, how would others be expected to?

So Stella took a seat, but she rejected the lemonade, nodding along politely as the girl explained her duties.

“What exactly is the structure of your organization, with multiple Vice Presidents? I’m assuming by board you mean student members in positions of power and not high level donors and stakeholders. Are you allowed to share any additional information about your initiation process? Or at the very least recruitment? I’ve heard one or two horror stories in the past about sorority and fraternity pledging. Broken limbs, hypothermia, public nudity and the like...”

Stella only allowed herself to drift off as she attempted to recall the other highlights she’d taken from a Seventeen article she’d read several years prior. Unable to recall any, however, she continued the conversation, having only missed half of a beat.

“As I’m sure you know, I have several academic and extracurricular commitments, in addition to a part-time job. Though I’m looking to increase the amount of time I have for fun socializing this year, it’s not meant to come at the expense of anything else. Are there others in your organization that have a similar juggling act? What are some of the majors of the other girls? And what are some of your previous community service projects? Is there any particular cause that you all favor?”

Stella was nothing if not thorough, and though she hadn’t been prepared to conduct an interview that afternoon, mental notes were already forming in her mind.

How long had Stella been sitting there? She was frazzled, like she’d been guzzling espresso all day and the caffeine had overtaken her nervous system. Griffin watched her in bemusement, taking in the loss for words and the slight shake of her hand. Maybe she was always like this and he’d simply never noticed because they’d never seen each other in the light of day. 

“All topics I’m sure you’re thrilled to know my opinions on,” he said sarcastically, the list sounding incredibly drab as she repeated it back to him. “At least we can circle back to aliens if the conversation gets too heavy. Maybe we’ll have to start an extraterrestrial-themed book club.“

He wasn’t sure how Henry would feel about Griffin forming a two person book club with his sister, but it wasn’t like he was the type to have ulterior motives. Book club wasn’t a euphemism for blowjobs… although if it became a thing, maybe he would invite Jude along as well, just to clear up any confusion.

“I think I knew that,” he said, as to her major. “You mentioned it once at game night… I remember being impressed, because physics has always gone completely over my head. It was my worst grade in high school. The one B that marred my four years at the esteemed Cambridge High.”

 He tried to imagine Stella at NASA, in a floor-length lab coat or even, perhaps, an astronaut helmet. It seemed an incongruous image to him, but never judge a book by its cover. “So what’s the end goal? Are you looking to become the first Henrietta grad to walk on the moon? Or is Mars more your style?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stella questioned, easily able to note the sarcasm in Griffin’s voice. At least her heart-eyes-stupidity hadn’t extended that far yet. Was she not supposed to care about his opinions on topics that were actually important? Did hot people not have political opinions? She could only dumb herself down so far and make things realistic...

“Unless you’re... for the war? And then maybe you keep that to yourself. But I could use a book club. We could invite your best friend, Professor Boehler.”

She was teasing Griffin like she actually knew him, with a newfound confidence coming from God only knew where (the coffee mixed with a very active fight or flight response, maybe?), but she didn’t think that things were going poorly. And she was learning so much! It was almost like fate, the two of them re-meeting in the spot where she’d first fallen for him. If she had just been pretty the last time, who knew what the present could have looked like.

“No, but I’m serious. About the club. The library may feel a little off-limits to me right now, but I go through my fair share of books and could use a themed selection every now and again. And someone to talk about things with beyond... Eve,” she drifted off. Had she broken whatever spell had just existed by crashing them right back into reality?

Pick up the cup once again. Take another sip of coffee. Don’t think about Eve. Don’t frown too much. But also don’t smile at the fact that Griffin knew your major (or anything about you, really) when this is the first truly notable conversation you’ve had.

The mental instructions were getting longer and longer, but at the rate Stella’s caffeine-fueled mind was rushing, things more or less evened out. The brief pause in her response to the conversation was no more than a second, a simple “oh, right” falling from her lips before she continued.

“As I was reminded by my teachers at my own esteemed high school, B is for bad. Luckily once we leave high school, unless you go into a college that requires extensive gen eds, you can usually avoid the subjects you didn’t quite take to before. Unless... you’re determined to conquer physics. To that I would say more power to you, but I’m personally thankful that I don’t have to take PE at Henrietta.”

It wasn’t like Stella to monologue about her past, present, or future, but Griffin had asked too many good questions, or at least made room for such a natural flow to the conversation, that it almost felt unavoidable. It was certainly more than she’d talked with someone beyond her roommate or Jamie in a while, but she could not have been more thrilled with the outcome of her outing.

–

Jamie shut the door behind her and locked it before jostling the knob as if he didn’t trust it the first time without aggressive verification. “What’s with the 20 questions?”

It wasn’t as if Jamie hated answering questions. He loved it, actually. It was just that the questions that always came out of Stella’s mouth weren’t the kind that made him feel smart and worldly. They were normal things that pried open the lid to normalcy, things he could probably live the rest of his life without attempting ever again. 

He rolled his eyes as they made their way towards the dining hall. By they, it was mostly him trying to escape the big doe eyes and wagging tail that was Stella Santos.

“I figured everyone knew my type, but sure. I’ll bite,” he told her baldly as they walked. “I like my girls cold, quiet and unmoving. Ideally unbloated by water and before the myosin molecules adhere to the actin filaments in her muscles, but I suppose I’m not opposed to working out her kinks. Must be generous and dedicated to the advancement of science and discovery.”

He spoke as if he were in deep deliberation over an ideal partner and not just a cadaver. In retrospect, his dark humor looked terrible on the backdrop of serial murders.

Jamie cut Stella a sideways look as they turned into the cafeteria. “What? You asked,” he said before rolling his eyes again. “I don’t have a type. I’ve got better things to worry about than who I’m going to be doing in ten years. It’s the what I’m going to be doing that concerns me. I’ll take the lasagna and that whole basket of bread, by the way.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Oh, I’m nowhere near twenty,” Stella insisted, stepping out of Jamie’s way only so he could lead the way to their destination. Her offer to purchase food could mean anything from Marie’s to the Dining Hall to the swankiest place in town (that would admit them without black tie dress). Somehow she didn’t see the latter in their future, though... at least, not if Jamie knew anything about the portion sizes of the top 10%. “You didn’t answer the most important one, though, which was who is asking you about us hanging out?”

She likely should have known that he would not give her a simple, straightforward answer to the other question that she had asked, but they’d not seen each other all summer. For about thirty seconds she’d eagerly awaited gleaning a legitimate piece of new information about Jamie from their conversation. Then he’d said ‘unmoving’ and Stella had to stop walking and glare.

“I’m sure that I don’t need to inform you that necrophilia is wrong. Cold, quiet girls that are generous and dedicated to the advancement of science and discovery can be living too. And you might even enjoy some back-and-forth conversation. I suppose a cadaver will never tell you that mothman isn’t real, but you don’t just talk to people to hear what you want, do you?”

Thankfully, Jamie did not live far from the Dining Hall. It had taken them almost no time at all to arrive, swipe in (with Stella swiping twice to fulfill her end of the bargain even though Jamie had used a loophole), and make their way to the food. However, Stella wasn’t about to let the male out of their promised (sort of...) conversation that easily.

“It’s a buffet. Go crazy. But you’re the one carrying it to a table,” she insisted, swiping a slice of the baguette Jamie had gestured to so he could not, in fact, take the whole basket. “As for your type, I understand being focused on the future. I am too. But you can still have a moment or two of fun in the present. Oh, unless you’re not telling me because I’m the girl of your dreams slash your perfect type. Oh, Jamie, I’m flattered. You could have just been honest from the get-go, though, instead of insisting I be dead first.”

Henry tried not to laugh as Stella took a sip of her drink and quickly discovered that she might not be the biggest fan of beer. Even he could admit it was objectively disgusting. But there was something about the taste you got used to after your second frat party. Plus an immature, approval-seeking part of his brain thought he looked pretty cool once he learnt how to shotgun a beer in under ten seconds. 

In the end he had to cover his mouth with his hand, attempting to hide his smile. That was easier said than done when she was studying him like he was a complex physics equation. There had been a time when he’d felt like he could see the thoughts running through her head just from the look in her eyes. But now he was drawing a blank. Just another reminder of the distance he had put between the two of them.

However, there was still something predictable about the way she not-so-subtly checked he had a safe way to get home.

     “Yeah, yeah, they’re somewhere. Outside probably, smoking or…or other stuff,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, even in his less than sober state, he knew not to tell his straight-laced sister exactly what his friends got up to, “We’ll just walk or something. It’s not that far.”

He leant against the bar as he listened to his sister hastily try to clear up the confusion. It made more sense to him that she wasn’t throwing herself into Greek life, much more sense than what Cami had said to him. Somehow he couldn’t imagine her amongst the carbon copy girls that he’d met at their amazingly frequent parties. But there’d also been a time he couldn’t imagine her wearing sparkly lipgloss and yet here she was.

     “Yeah they sound exhausting. All those bake sales and Hawaiian Luau themed parties. Would be a real stretch for you I’m sure,” he snorted, before realising that he probably wasn’t in a position to assume she was above those sorts of things, he wasn’t really in a position to assume anything about Stella, “But I mean, Cami seems to like it, maybe it’ll be fun?”

It was a lame attempt at removing his foot from his mouth. But the alcohol seemed to make him more prone to rambling.

     “Not really,” he shrugged, “The cross country team want me to join the team. But I think I’d rather just focus on rowing. Priorities, you know.”

Compared to her list of responsibilities and extra-curriculars, Henry couldn't help but think that his commitments sounded thoroughly unimpressive. His sporting exploits probably meant very little to her anyway.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Stella could tell just from the way that Henry was trying to hide his reaction that there was potentially a bit of schadenfreude occurring regarding her beer misadventure. She didn’t fault him for it. It likely was amusing, and Lord knew that she had giggled at his expense in the past. However, it was just another reminder that they were not nearly as close as they once were, and Stella was caught between wanting to call it out and wanting to just keep the conversation moving forward.

She settled on the latter, a single eyebrow quirking at the mention of the male’s friends being around but likely smoking or doing a clearly intentionally vague activity that could only be referred to as “other stuff”.

It was so hard to not be a buzzkill when you were concerned for the wellbeing of a loved one. Did Henry’s friends... do drugs? Did Henry do drugs?? If so, how often? And if quite often, was that why they were no longer close? Did she need to stage an intervention?

“I’m going to ignore the vagueness of ‘other stuff,’ even though you must know that raises at least one red flag in my mind,” she began, actively working to clear the most dramatic of conclusions from her brain. Maybe they weren’t as close as they had once been, but she was pretty sure that she would know if something was up. “Instead I will just say that I hope you get home safe when you inevitably call it a night.”

Maybe she should have been more of a buzzkill, however, because if she’d had any amount of excitement regarding joining a sorority, Henry would have killed it with his mention of the types of events she could expect. Bake sales were... fine, if you wanted to reinforce the patriarchy. And a luau themed party could potentially be quite culturally insensitive. Was that what she would be bringing into her life? What was she willing to sacrifice to raise her social status?

She could not think too much about the answer to that question without cringing.

“Do we think that they actually know anything about luaus?” Stella frowned, momentarily having totally convinced herself out of it.

“How well do you know Cami? Enough to trust her judgment?” she soon followed up. It was important that she looked at things from all angles, but Henry knew her better than anyone. The real her, at least. Though she was faking it until she made it, all changes she’d made to herself when she changed how she dressed were simply superficial. If Henry thought it wasn’t the right place for her (which did sting, truthfully), then maybe he was correct. But where would that leave her? Butterflies did not become caterpillars; she would have to find some other way to spread her social wings and gain status.

𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖘 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔… @stellasantos​

Coming back from her shift at work to an quiet place wasn’t out of the ordinary. If she had to guess, Stella would be in her room with a book ( studying or not, Jude could barely ever tell the difference ) and probably enjoying the silence. Of course, Jude had to ruin it with her yell towards the other girl’s room. ❝             Stell? You home? ❞ Judgement usually followed anytime Jude referred to the small campus dorms as home, but never with Stella. At least, not outwardly.  

Doors. They’re a practical, wonderful, and very necessary thing in life. Unfortunately, if you live with anyone like Jude, they’re useless unless you lock them. ❝ I’m coming in. ❞ A final warning as she twisted the knob. If she was with someone or getting changed, she’d yell out. That’s how Jude rationalized it.

❝ So, progress has been made with Professor Schaefer. I finally got him to stop calling me Judith. ❞ Complete with a bad impression of his voice. ❝ I think he finds it weird, but like, we don’t even share a name. His first name is Professor. Everyone knows it’s changed legally when you start teaching. Problem is that I’m now a snippet of ‘Hey Jude’ by The Beatles. You know I don’t listen to them for moral reasons. ❞ Not any of the good reasons like their ‘bigger than Jesus’ controversy, but because they’re insanely overrated for no reason. ❝ So, really, it feels like a personal attack. ❞ That wasn’t even touching on the musical scholarship she was currently doing nothing with.

❝ Anyways, I just got paid so I’m taking us to Marie’s tonight. ❞ All of that to reach the very simple end goal that could have been yelled through the door was - unfortunately for Stella - very common.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sometimes a girl just needed to lay down in complete silence and semi-darkness, stare up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling from a bored (or homesick... or drunk) college student many moons ago, and take a deep breath. Or several deep breaths.

Stella had been struggling lately, the disappearance of Eve Meyer weighing heavily on her as just one of a number of ingredients in the depressing milkshake that was her life as of late. The rest of the milkshake was comprised of the following:

One part worry about her social life being over before it had even really begun.

A heavy helping of the feeling of social inadequacy that crept up on her in her quiet moments.

A dash of fear that her carefully constructed house of faux-confidence cards was going to come tumbling down at any moment.

A cherry on top.

It was therefore perhaps not ideal that, thanks to the luck of the draw, Stella had been tossed into a suite with Jude Davis (of the Secret Village)... for the entirety of that year.

Truly what were the odds?

It wasn’t that Stella didn’t like Jude (for the most part she did!), but she hadn’t met Jude as her true self, and every time she was around the girl she felt like she had to be in performance mode. She had been planning on resetting at home, and had rejoiced when she’d assured her privacy by securing a room to herself. However, single-room suites meant roommates, and with a fair amount of students having moved off campus by Junior year, one also couldn’t really pick anyone specific from those who chose to remain on-campus.

It had barely been any time at all and Stella had already discovered that Jude didn’t believe in knocking. It therefore should not have been a surprise to Stella when the girl came bursting into her room that evening, Stella’s once-still room now bursting with an energy that it lacked at most other times.

“Congratulations on your progress, at least,” she offered, sitting up and flicking on the lamp by her bed. To the other girl perhaps it had just seemed like she was napping, not spiraling.

"I suppose I should be thankful that Stella is my full name. Though A Streetcar Named Desire has made it... difficult, at times. At least I’ve never had a professor insist on anything else. You know you can save your money, right? I’m happy to pick up the bill and support dear Miss Marie.”

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

Griffin had not entered Brew Haha with the intention of socializing. Even though it was a social hub on campus, he preferred studying alone in the midst of the chaos. It was the noise and activity around him that somehow helped him focus; being alone only had Griffin wallowing in thoughts he couldn’t control. Thus the stack of homework he had set on the table he now shared with Stella.

But she was talking books and that was a surefire way to capture Griffin Baxley’s attention. At least someone wanted to discuss something interesting that didn’t implicate him in a crime. It was a much needed change of pace.

“You’re not wrong. Did you know the sale of Reese’s Pieces skyrocketed after the release of ET? It’s hard to imagine where the candy industry would even be today without Steven Spielberg,” he said, joking with an overly serious tone. “I don’t think Sagan himself could conceive of such a parallel universe.”

It occurred to Griffin that this was really the first time he’d spoken to Stella outside of game nights. It was weird, considering he’d spent some time with her brother. It was easy to forget they were siblings, and not just because they looked so different.

“It was, though. Worth it. I love anything Vonnegut has written. Sirens of Titan is the type of sci fi that has something to say about the real world we’re living in, which is incredible, considering it was written in ‘59 and has somehow become even more relevant today, what with Bush and the war and… the religious furor of modern America.”

He ended his statement flatly, a little embarrassed by his own excitement over the topic. Especially when he didn’t know Stella well enough to go off the way he did. She was rich, right? For all he knew, she was as Republican as the rest of her type. He toyed with the frayed edge of his notebook. 

“How’s Cosmos treating you so far? Is that for a class?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Steven Spielberg, doing for Reese’s Pieces what Halloween did for almost any other candy,” Stella smiled.

Though she was trying to remain cool, calm, and collected, she could feel herself growing more and more enamored with Griffin by the second. It was a stark reminder of why she had been absolutely silent around every single crush (minus the one that had ended in disaster on the quad) to date. In addition to the fact that she was shy, as her heart eyes took over, her brain shut down. And her IQ... was beginning a rapid descent the longer she let the male’s clear knowledge of Carl Sagan go unacknowledged. As if she could find Griffin Baxley any more appealing.

“Do you... Sagan. You know Carl Sagan?” she could barely get out, unable to help the fumbling over her words. Was it bad that she seemed surprised? Was it because of the PBS series? The book? Was Cosmos going to be her downfall or her salvation?

“Sorry,” she continued then, shaking her head before reaching for her coffee.

Cool. Calm. Collected. She could do this.

“I meant to ask what work of his you’re familiar with. Not... seem surprised that you know of him. I’m not surprised. I’m mostly glad. People never want to talk to me about him. But sadly I can’t return the favor. Of course I know of Vonnegut, but I tragically haven’t read a ton. Yet. Consider Sirens of Titan added to my list. And once I’ve read it maybe we can have a conversation about Bush. And the war. And the religious furor of modern America.”

Take a sip of coffee. Set the cup down. Smile. It was all very basic coaching, but Stella could only handle simple instructions at the moment, her brain entirely focused on trying to ensure her words made sense. Had she... just asked Griffin to hang out with her??

–

Stella’s mouth was moving but all Jamie could hear was a garbled message about morality and equal accountability that he just didn’t want to hear. It was a combination of his residual teenage angst over authority and the fact that he’d been sat down with Jude and the school counselor one too many times to not be resentful of whatever they’ve said about him and his propensity for the weird.

Jamie rolled his eyes and threw the magazine down onto his desk to punctuate how wrong she was about Jude. He was unwilling to start off the year with his on-going thesis about how Jude’s propensity for afterhours activities with the students was the height of suspicious, but in due time. He’d get it done and printed before graduation for everyone to see.

“Talk to him if you want, but leave me out of it. I don’t need more people asking me about what I’m doing hanging out with you,” he said, flapping his hand dismissively as he organized the things in his drawer. Jamie stopped at ‘Shrek’ and turned to deliver a withering look at Stella. Perhaps trying to salvage their encounter was futile and prolonging it was only going to cause him undue pain.

“Because celebrity is entirely manufactured? For all we know, these people are just robots made in the basement of a Mattel factory and programmed with answers generalized enough to appeal to everyone.”

Shutting his drawer resolutely, Jamie put on his jacket before grabbing his keys from his desk and kicking his duffel bag under his bed. He started for the door before Stella could make another dive for the magazine and try and convince him that $4.99 was a reasonable price for sparkly chapstick. Her question gave him pause and he looked back for a second time that evening, with double the scorn.

“Not really. Spice Girls aren’t really my type,” he told her grimly. “Are you just going to sit there? I’m hungry.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Stella hadn’t even known Jamie all that long and still she knew that it would be pointless to continue a back and forth regarding Professor Schafer. Especially when it had already reached non-verbal argument territory. She knew she was right, and that she should be proud to have such a strong moral compass, and at least for the moment that was enough.

But also... it wasn’t. In the back of her mind the girl was concerned about who Jamie was willing to throw under the bus to make his life go more smoothly. They were friends, right? He wouldn’t... do that to her, right?

Her brain said no. The unconscious fiddling with the edge of her skirt and her momentarily downcast eyes said maybe you should get to know him better to be extra sure.

“How do I leave you out of it if it’s about something that’s yours?” she questioned, eyes narrowing as she pretended to think it through even though she was still more focused on her own thoughts. She was quickly brought entirely back to reality, however, when she processed the rest of what Jamie had said.

“Wait. More people? Who’s asking in the first place?”

The surprise of the statement kept Stella from being at all able to further the conversation she’d once again turned non-verbal (how many dead ends would they reach that day?), all thoughts of further causing Jamie mental anguish with talks of Shrek far from her mind.

Who even cared if they hung out? Was it... that weird? There were all sorts of stereotypes present in the Secret Village with undoubtedly more odd combinations. Was she, in her new butterfly form... not supposed to hang out with Jamie?? Or was Jamie not supposed to be seen with her???

“I don’t think all celebrity is manufactured. Backstreet Boys, yes. And... Spice Girls too, I’m sure. Plus *NSYNC. And Britney and Christina came out of the Disney machine. But...” she allowed herself to drift off.

She was only further proving his point, and she didn’t particularly feel like fully losing an argument that day. Instead she pretended to notice just then how he had been preparing to leave. She had clocked it the moment he’d picked up his keys, but she’d learned by that point (after enough heartbreak from her now-distant brother’s non-invitations) not to assume that she would be invited to go anywhere. She waited for further instruction, carefully sliding off of Jamie’s bed only once he’d offered what she thought might be an invitation. Unless... he was actually just asking her to leave so that he could go eat.

“Then you do have a type,” she acknowledged, moving past him and out into the hall. “Please don’t leave me waiting in suspense. If I buy you lunch will you tell me?’

Now he was sat down and his mind seemed to have righted itself - the movement of walking had made his head feel more fuzzy than he ideally liked - he realised that greeting his sister in such a familiar way was a little out of the ordinary for them. As was the one-armed hug he seemed to be giving her. Sometimes it was so easy for Henry to forget that the incessant feelings of inferiority and jealousy that his sister stirred up in the more shameful parts of his mind. Sometimes all he wanted to do was find her and talk to her like nothing had ever happened at all, like he’d never drifted away. He found himself wanting to ask her how she was doing, who she was hanging out with, how all her science stuff was going. He especially wanted to ask about what the sudden transformation she had under gone was all about and god he needed someone to talk about why their stupid game seemed to have jumped from the pages of their imagination and into the real world.

But it was not possible to pretend he hadn’t essentially abandoned her. He had made it so she would have to resent him too. As much as he found himself resenting her at times. He retracted his arm quickly as she greeted him.

     “No, no, you don’t have to leave,” he shook his head rapidly, stopping just as fast when the dizziness returned. It stung that she would think he’d ask her to leave, “You haven’t even had your drink yet.”

He gestured towards the untouched glass of beer in front of her. Again the questions bubbled to the tip of his tongue, since when did his sister drink? And where on earth had she got a fake ID from? As his initial instinct of happiness started to fade away, the familiar awkwardness creeped in. Henry found himself torn between wanting to make a quick exit and desperately looking for any reason to keep talking to Stella.

     “I’ve had three,” he said, holding up his hand to illustrate the number as well, “Not that much. But it’s all about body fat, goes to your brain quicker.”

He poked his hard chest with his finger too, like that made his rambling any clearer.

     “Ten, Nine, eight percent, I can’t remember, Coach keeps getting on at us. He’s a hypocrite, he has a doughnut for breakfast each morning, I have it on good authority.”

Dimly aware that he was talking absolute nonsense, he tried to turn the conversation towards his sister.

     “Cami says you’re going to join her sorority.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Almost as soon as Henry’s arm was on her, it was off again and some of their (at that point) established distance was back in place. From all of her reading on the subject, Stella knew that alcohol could make you forget yourself. Clearly that had been the catalyst for their present conversation. The very thought made her pout, turning away from her brother and back towards her drink.

Which, as he pointed out, she had yet to touch.

He could insist all he wanted that she didn’t have to leave, but now that she knew he was there she felt like maybe she should. She had already invaded one of his hotspots, and though it had done wonders for her social life, it most definitely had not helped to mend their relationship (plus there was the whole serial killer thing). Could she really insert herself again? Even accidentally? No, it was likely best to just finish her drink and go.

“Right, I should at least...” she drifted off. And then she pulled the drink closer to herself, taking a sip.

Only to promptly and inelegantly choke on that single sip.

“Oh.” Gross. It was nothing more than a murmur, but one sip in and Stella knew she was done. How had Henry managed three of these horrible drinks? Was alcohol as a whole a means to an end, or just beer?

It was then that Stella studied her brother’s actions more closely, narrowing her eyes at the fact that he had to both speak and gesture to explain the number of drinks he’d had thus far. Was this what being drunk was like? She had never been around him before when he was, so it was difficult to tell. There was no point in driving in Cambridge what with their public transit options and the fact that campus was relatively small, but given his current state she was still concerned about him getting home safely. Should she tell him that?

“Three is 2.97 more than I’m going to be having, but thank you for that information. It makes sense. Not to be a buzzkill or anything, but I’m assuming that you have friends here who will get you home alright?” she questioned carefully, pushing away the drink so it was out of both of their reaches.

Seconds later Henry had her undivided attention, the fact that he knew more about her than she did about him not lost on her.

“Why is everyone saying that?” she was quick to respond. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m trying to branch out a little this year, but I also need to juggle my prior commitments. My classes, my job, Women in STEM, et cetera. I don’t know if I have the energy to be in a sorority. But what about you? Anything fun and/or exciting being shoved your way this year?”

   “Seems like they have something going on at all times, freshman or not.” The water hadn’t even all been shaken from his hair before he was nodding his head in response. “Of course, I wouldn’t forget,” 

    Being beyond was something that the pair of them shared much more deeply than either thought - Kieran was isolated in his little Ridgeview world, too advanced in his passion and knowledge of technology, and too content to be left to his own devices if given the chance. Coming to Henrietta had been a sort of transformation for him, too, though in a much more subtle way than Stella’s. He’d been the background guy, not real close with anyone, not really eager to even try to be. The Secret Village had coaxed him out, in a sense, showed Kieran he wasn’t the only oddball left on Earth. But it wasn’t only them that the computer genius had connected with; Stella was easily his friend even before the biweekly games, and he’d been thrilled to have her part of the little club.

   It sucked that things had to go sideways before she ever truly got to be part of them, without the stress of the murders. “Though, I do kind of feel bad, I mean-” Kieran shrugged, still from within the water. The class chosen for them to take together was Who Lives, Who Dies, and Who Cares? (followed by something else Kieran can’t remember). A little insensitive, maybe, given the circumstances. 

   “Maybe the Physics of Star Trek would’ve been a better choice,” He added with a light laugh, never one to allow things to get too serious. Kieran wasn’t big on regrets, or whatever. “I heard you’re going to be a sister now or something with Cami, so we should probably figure out our study schedule sooner rather than later. You know me, I got whenever free. I’m hoping to do as little as possible this year, so.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I think the razzle dazzle feels like it stops the minute orientation events are over,” Stella pointed out, but she didn’t let that thought float in the air for too long before she was grinning at Kieran’s reassurances.

Was it unfortunate that they had chosen to take a class called Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Cares? Yes. But, as she’d learned when she picked up her textbooks from the campus bookstore, the full title of the class ended with Reimaging Global Health. They would be examining inequities in the healthcare system, not being dismissive of the current horror they found themselves somewhat immersed in.

Swirling her legs around in the water as she allowed herself to get used to the temperature, Stella still found herself nodding at Kieran’s take on the situation. She felt bad too. But they’d made a pact and it felt like one needed a better excuse to drop a class than an insensitive title. Plus, what if they dropped and then couldn’t get into a backup class together? Could Stella go a whole semester really only seeing Kieran for occasional study sessions (where they shared ZERO subjects??) and Secret Village meetings? What if she didn’t make a single friend as she attempted to go at her backup gen ed alone?

No. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Cares? it was. By the end of the semester they would be public health geniuses.

“Bad timing for the title, but not the content. One could always use more public health knowledge... probably. But as for Star Trek, maybe for you. I had to stop watching that show because they were stretching the science too much that I got frustrated and taken out of the world every time I realized something just was not at all possible. I’m sure there are some physics concepts that are fine - enough that Henrietta would create a whole class on it - but it would be a unique new torture to force me to watch for homework.”

With a sigh, Stella finally slid the rest of her body into the pool, emerging from the water just in time to hear the whole sorority thing mentioned.

Confusing, because she couldn’t remember telling anyone that she was even considering it.

“Who said that?” she asked, wiping water from her eyes. “You know I’ll always make the time for our sessions. School comes first. As do my friends. Just name the date and time and I’ll make sure to be there. I’m not married to the sorority idea yet either. It’s nice to be actively pursued, but it sounds kind of exhausting and Women in STEM functions almost like a de facto sorority anyway.”

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

Were Griffin slightly more observant, he may have noticed the way Stella reacted to his presence. The slight fumbling of an otherwise graceful pose; the tiny glimpse of panic in her eyes. Instead, he focused on the title of the book she’d been reading: Cosmos, making her appear like one of those aliens-in-disguise from Men in Black.

“You should count yourself lucky that Professor Boehler hasn’t been struck by the need to socialize,” he commented, motioning to her book. “One look at you with that and he’d trap you in a conversation about extraterrestrials, bordering on an interrogation, for the rest of the night.” 

Griffin almost wished he was joking. He’d been the victim of Crispin Boehler’s conversational skills before. “I once made the mistake of publicly reading The Sirens of Titan and was gifted with five hours of abduction stories… I’ve never even taken a Comp Sci class. It was an unannounced attack on my psyche.” 

He neglected to mention the fact that Crispin Boehler and his uncle were something like friends, but that was a degree of separation that Griffin tried not to acknowledge. “Unless aliens are your thing, of course.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Clearly Stella had made an excellent choice in deciding to read in public.

She hadn’t been positive about Cosmos, having already read it before, but she had been hoping that such a text would be more of a conversation starter than anything else. Luckily, it was. And with Griffin Baxley of all people.

“He would not be the first,” she pointed out, though with Kieran things had come up a bit more naturally. Still, Stella made a mental note to look up Professor Boehler in the yearbook (or at the very least on the internet) so that she would know who to avoid. She didn’t think she’d survive an interrogation about aliens unscathed. Especially one that involved stories of “abduction”.

From Griffin’s words, Stella got the distinct impression that she was not supposed to believe in aliens. At least, if she wanted to have something in common with the male (who had just said more words to her than ever before). She was still trying to play it cool. But how could one both play it cool and remain logical at the same time?

Because aliens probably did exist. Somewhere out there, in a galaxy far, far away. But Stella was not under the impression that they had ever visited Earth. Nor did she think that they would. It simply made sense to her that if their galaxy had a planet that was orbiting the sun at a proper distance to support life, somewhere out there it was likely that was the case for another planet.

Was there a way to say something like that and still be cute? Or did that automatically make her the weird alien girl?

“You’re saving me from an unannounced attack on mine with this warning,” she pointed out, the thank you unspoken but her tone enough of an indicator. “Space is my thing. Stars, the moon, planets, et cetera. But I guess people do try and loop aliens in with that. ET clearly has had a lasting impact. Let me guess... five hours of essentially your own abduction later and you’re still not a believer, are you? Was the book at least worth the sacrifice?”

–

Jamie shrugged. “Worst case scenario, we point the finger at Jude.”

Cold, maybe, but he’d seen the group chat. The Secret Villagers were a unique bunch but none of them seemed to come to the same conclusions as he did, primarily the one that involved them graduating. As much as he loved to indulge in conspiracies, Jamie could admit that for once in his life that he had bigger fish to fry than the ones in his imagination. Jude had already lived his life, paid his dues, and was the weird old man amongst a club of youthful prospects. It was the easiest conclusion, if not the most obvious. No man who spoke with such calm and rationale was an innocent one.

Heaving a heavy sigh when Stella missed his pointed looks at her bare knees, Jamie resigned to continuing to unpack. There wasn’t much in his single bag of belongings. Some clothes, some books, his discman. He once thought how pathetic it was that all his life’s belongings fit in a single, shitty duffle bag but by his fourth year, he considered it a blessing. 

Still, he took his time organizing his desk if only because stopping meant he’d have to find something else to occupy his eyes.

“I don’t want to ask Kieran for anything,” he told her, looking pained by the suggestion. Jamie didn’t like asking for things from anyone, determined to fix all his problems himself, but Kieran was a special case. He didn’t want to open the gate for any more information about his wild trysts. It was the last thing he wanted.

Jamie cocked Stella a look over his shoulder at her insistence that she was anything but delusional. He didn’t care to argue, but his eyes said it all before her mouth validated his skepticism.

“To imagine that a single human can be quantifiable in a brief questionnaire takes out all the variables of personality and circumstance. How do you know he doesn’t turn into some kind of monster when you touch his ears if you’re just asking him questions? Everyone pretends to be someone else in an interview.”

He reached over and grabbed the magazine from her hands, deciding that his conscience could no longer bear having her read trashy magazines if she emerged from them more gooey-eyed than the last.

“He’s 22 and makes a career out of wooing the masses with phony love songs and cheesy choreography. Why would you want to end up with someone like that?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Stella knew that her jaw had dropped the moment that Jamie suggested the group could shift all of the blame for the string of murders onto poor Professor Schafer. She could feel it hanging, her eyes wide, her scandalized expression only thinly masked. The actual words to accomplish the reaction, however, took a minute to formulate.

...could they do that? If they had to?

“I’m positive that I do not need to inform you that would be wrong. I mean, yes, he’s been there, but he’s just as likely as anyone else from the group to be behind things. Which is to say that the odds are slim to none, since I don’t think any of you-us,” she corrected herself. Though she’d come into things late, she was as much a part of things as anyone else by that point. “Have anything to do with it.”

And she didn’t. Truly. Half of the Secret Village hadn’t even been in town for the summer (she was pretty sure), and the wolf thing had spread around Henrietta like wildfire. Everyone had heard a version by that point. It was just a terrible coincidence that some local serial killer had latched onto it as their sick inspiration.

Shaking her head as if doing so would etch-a-sketch clear her thoughts away, the girl let her eyes trail after Jamie as he moved about the room, Cosmo (of course chosen purely for the name) now forgotten by her side. Was it weird to simply watch him while he busied himself and they chatted? Should she have been pretending to read even when he had already been judgmental of her choice in material? Even though Stella had no conscious romantic inclinations towards Jamie, she still found herself questioning things. She was still getting used to having males in her life that weren’t her brother.

“You don’t have to,” she pointed out when he was a little weird about Kieran. Was it Kieran specifically or did Jamie prefer to go it alone as his own tech support? “I could ask him. It’s my movie night too, you know.”

The Stella of last year would never have rolled her eyes at Jamie (or anyone, really), no matter what was said to her. But the Stella of last year also hadn’t been essentially accused of being delusional. The eyeroll was truly almost second nature, Stella’s hand slipping down to grab the magazine she’d discarded and flip to a random page so she didn’t have to deign Jamie’s non-verbal response with words.

“I know there are many ways to interpret that monster comment, but please know that as soon as you said it, I pictured Nick Carter turning into an ogre when his ears get touched. Like, full-on Shrek. So that’s sort of derailed that argument for me.”

Her pout was instantaneous, fully in place by the time he’d wrenched Cosmo free from her grasp.

“What makes you say they’re phony? It’s just for fun. You’re not at all curious about what Spice Girl you’re meant to fall in love with?”