forty-two

Emma wanted to know what those looks meant, and whether they meant anything at all. She wanted to know so badly she was tempted just to ask. That was what had given her the idea of asking each other questions, and why she had suggested that they did. So she could ask Izzy about her interest, and perhaps find out. But now that everything was arranged, and Emma had her opportunity, she suddenly didn’t feel like she could ask after all. Because asking whether Izzy was interested in her would mean admitting she’d noticed Izzy might be, and that seemed somehow to imply that Emma was interested back. Because if she wasn’t, then why would she ask and care? And because if she was, and Izzy was too, then everything in Emma’s life would suddenly become a lot more complicated, and in ways she didn’t think she wasn’t ready for just yet.

So she didn’t ask. She sat there instead. She kept encouraging Izzy to think up questions, and kept pretending to try and think up her own, because that was the far safer thing to do than to acknowledge what actually seemed to be happening.

Advertisements