All's Fair in Love and Blackmail

by Gracie Ruth Mitchell

So I press the green call button and wait for my goddess of sarcasm to pick up. Well—not my goddess of sarcasm. Obviously. The goddess of sarcasm.

Which is so stupid, by the way. I shouldn’t be scared of falling in love. I don’t have some tragic past. My heart has never been broken irreparably. Somehow I’ve been afraid anyway, running from the ways people change—the ways I might change—hunting down fun as though it’s any replacement for happiness. I don’t know. I don’t understand everything. Sometimes I’m not sure I understand anything. But I like her. I think I even like her a lot. That’s enough for me to go on with, even if it feels scary.

“No,” I say slowly, keeping my voice steady. “It’s going to be very, very different.” And, the truth I don’t tell him, the one dancing on my tongue: I think I’m becoming different, too. I can’t explain it, because I barely understand. I’ve always let the women in my life pass by me like I’m a boulder in a stream. They come and go, but I stay where I am. And I don’t think I meant to change this time. I only think I looked at India as she passed. Smiled when I saw her. Followed her with my eyes until she was leaving my line of sight. And now… Now she’s almost gone, and I can choose to stay where I am, or I can go with her. I’d like to go with her.

“I have boundaries,” Cyrus says tiredly as he slumps against the doorframe. “I do not want to witness any extreme PDA. Under no circumstances will I be dragged into any disagreements”—he shoots me a severe look—“with the understanding that if you insist, I will be on India’s side unconditionally.” “What if she’s wrong?” I say. I think it’s a very reasonable question, but he glowers at me.