was fine if he’d been wrong, but he didn’t want to think about it ever again.
He trundled down the stairs and into the apartment, which he’d been so excited to show her Friday night. After her sister had gone MIA it had seemed like a bad time. And now? It would just be pathetic.
Gus was figuring out how to move the giant cardboard loom he’d constructed when he heard the back door that led out to where he’d left Reggie sitting open. Of course, she would come investigate. Who would just let some person having a freak-out wander around their house unsupervised? Not Reggie.
“What is going o—oh my GOD!”
He put his hands on his hips, dropped his head down, and sighed deeply.
“Gus?”
He turned his head to look at her, where she was examining a wooden box with tiles that had to be pushed around in the right sequence so that the image of a rose appeared, which would allow the box to be opened.
She glanced around at the new posters he’d hung, at the purple cape for his Charming cosplay that he’d meant to wear when he showed her in draped over a chair, at the scattered vases containing bouquets of roses.
“You made an escape room? For me?” Her voice was higher than usual and she was staring at the box like it was something more substantial than evidence of his inability to get a clue.
“You said you didn’t like real escape rooms,” he muttered, twisting his neck from side to side. “I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable in your own house, so I brought some of the prototype stuff I’d made over.”
She rolled over to where The Sword of Truth, Aurora’s giant blue-bladed sword, rested against a steamer trunk. Or rather the replica Gus had constructed out of papier-mâché.
“Holy fuck.” She picked it up by the hilt with both hands, testing its weight. “This is amazing! Does it have any secret compartments or anything?”
He didn’t understand why she was talking to him like everything was normal, but he went along with it.
“No. That isn’t a puzzle. It’s just something I made for you.”
“Thank you. This has been down here all weekend?” She leaned the sword back against the wall, carefully, and came toward him and the giant cardboard loom he was trying to block with his body. “This is incredible.”
Her eye caught on the spindle, wrapped with green yarn, and she pulled it gently. Gus closed his eyes. He heard her gasp when she saw the perfect paper rose that bloomed—spread, really—when the spindle was tugged just right. He’d expected her to take longer to find that. Maybe the design was bad. Or maybe she was meant to find it.
He opened his eyes and found her looking down at the rose, spinning the spindle stem between thumb and forefinger.
“I messed up this weekend.”
He shrugged. “You were worried about your sister. I get it.”
“No.” She sighed.
“You weren’t worried?”
“I was. About Portia but also about something else. And it was easier to focus on Portia than the something else.”
Gus shifted from foot to foot. She looked up at him, eyes sunshine bright.
“I—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it because I gave you a sword. That isn’t why I set this up, or why I was leaving. I misunderstood things and that’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay, not at all, but buying her love with Reject Squad swag didn’t feel any better.
“Gustave. You know what? I just had a conversation with my sister that ended a misunderstanding between us that had lasted almost half our lives.”
“That’s a long time,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“I am. And I’m learning that maybe it’s best not to sleep on certain conversations because it’s easier. It’s best not to wait until feelings have been hurt for too long and everything explodes.”
“Too late for that,” he said, running a hand through his hair.
“Your reaction wasn’t an explosion. It was frustration. And confusion. And partly my fault.” She brushed the paper rose across her chin, then sighed. “I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.”
Gus went stiff. “What?”
“Do you know how many times I’ve listened to your old streams? I emailed you to ask for your voice, like some weird sorceress trying to trick you.”
“You had a crush on me?” He was trying to fit this puzzle piece in with all the others he’d scattered when he told her he was leaving and could find no place for it.
“Yes. I was in denial, of course, until I called you. Denial