Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things

by Jacqueline Firkins

  Sebastian soon returned with a stack of tumblers, a couple ice trays, a two-liter bottle of ginger ale, and a bag of pretzels.

  “The snack selection’s limited,” he said as he started filling glasses. “Too bad we burned all those cookies yesterday.”

  Claire stiffened.

  “We?” she asked.

  Sebastian paused, mid-pour.

  “Edie came over to borrow books yesterday,” he explained.

  “Borrow books or bake cookies?” Claire smiled, impeccably polite, but the challenge in her tone was impossible to miss, as was the flicker of insecurity in her eyes.

  Sebastian stammered out yet another iteration of his earnest but flimsy Just Friends Defense, shuffling in a way that did little to help his case. Claire listened, dead still. Edie watched in silence. She hated seeing Claire hurt and Sebastian guilt-ridden, but she suspected anything she said would only make matters worse. Turning small messes into big messes seemed to be her specialty lately. She should’ve known Claire would get upset by her afternoon with Sebastian, especially if he failed to mention it for just long enough to look like he was hiding something.

  Edie looked to Henry, silently willing him to help. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Aww, you baked for me?” He laced his fingers through hers and nestled the knot on the table. “Now who’s the sweet one?”

  Edie barely had time to process his insinuation when Sebastian fumbled with the soda bottle, knocking over a glass and sending a wave of ginger ale her direction. It splashed down her chest and soaked her shirt. He blurted out a string of embarrassed apologies, but Edie waved him off.

  “It’s just a T-shirt,” she said.

  “Lucky you.” Claire backed away from the dripping table. “The rest of us would’ve required dry cleaning.”

  Edie bristled at the underlying insult, but she let it lie as she excused herself to assess the damage. A minute later, she stood in the bathroom, scowling at her reflection while rubbing her chest with a monogrammed hand towel. The situation was classic. They hadn’t even dealt the first hand and Claire was already on the offensive, Sebastian was on the defensive, and Edie was coated in corn syrup. She’d obviously pushed this friendship idea too far, too fast. She shouldn’t have expected everything to change overnight. Relationships were complicated, especially when they affected more than two people.

  As Edie wondered if she could use the spilled soda as an excuse to abandon the game entirely, Henry stepped into the doorway.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “It’s just a T-shirt,” she repeated.

  “I wasn’t asking about your clothes.”

  Edie shrugged as she dampened the towel and wiped off her collarbone. Henry was smart enough to sense how she felt. She didn’t have to explain it. While he leaned against the door frame, she took a good look at the Rorschach blot on her chest.

  “This is useless.” She tossed the towel onto the counter. “I should go change.”

  “Take one of mine.” Henry pulled his dress shirt over his head, catching a black undershirt and removing both at once. “Your choice.” He extracted one shirt from the other and held them out. “My vote’s for the A-line, but you can make your own call.”

  Edie didn’t reach for either shirt. She stood stock-still, uncomfortably aware that Henry was standing half naked before her. Despite his professed aversion to sports, especially anything that wasn’t coed, he’d obviously found a gym nearby. His arms were strong. His stomach was ripped. His skin was smooth, clear, and a shade too dark for the traditional vampire, though demon was still up for grabs. Edie hated that she noticed his body. She hated even more that he clearly noticed her noticing.

  His smile inched up as he waved his shirts at her.

  “I’m not putting one on until you do,” he goaded.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I’ll start proposing ways to keep warm.”

  Edie glanced out the little window behind her. Bright sunshine. Clear skies.

  “It’s seventy degrees outside,” she said.

  “Ask me if I care.” Henry stepped toward her, all abs and ego.

  “All right! Okay!” Edie let out a nervous laugh as she grabbed the dress shirt. She motioned for Henry to turn around. She confirmed he wasn’t peeking. Then she removed her wet tee and put on his shirt. It was cozy and soft. She took her time rolling up the sleeves, adjusting the shoulders, and running her hands down the smooth, crisp cotton. It still held his heat and his smell, like juniper and cedar. Either Henry had hugged a tree recently or Lucifer endorsed cologne after all.

  Edie thanked him for the shirt. He turned to face her, nodding in approval. She pretended not to notice his body again as he slipped his undershirt over his head and tugged it down to his waist. He pretended not to notice her pretending.

  “Better?” He tipped his chin at her shirt while smoothing his own, leaving her to interpret his question at will.

  “Um . . . yeah.” She felt a blush creep up her neck. She quickly distracted herself by balling up her T-shirt, the one that so fortuitously required no dry cleaning. Damn Claire, anyway. And damn Sebastian, too. This mess wasn’t all Edie’s fault. Things were going just fine until those stupid cookies came up. “I get why your sister doesn’t like me,” she told Henry. “But I’m not trying to steal her boyfriend.”

  “So prove it.”

  “How?”

  “Show her you’re into someone else.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “Then fake it.”

  Edie went still again. Was he kidding? He had to be kidding.

  “We talked about this at the pool party,” she reminded him. “I suck at lying.”

  While she recalled her mortifying string of rejections and her total inability to fake so much as a handshake, he leaned against the marble countertop and picked through a dish of designer soap balls, completely at ease.

  “You don’t have to lie. Not really. And I’ll do most of the heavy lifting.” He tossed a soap ball from hand to hand. “Besides, the groundwork’s already laid. They know we played guitar together. You apparently made me some truly terrible cookies. Now you’re wearing my shirt. We’ll plant a few more hints. Claire and Sebastian can make their own assumptions.”

  Edie folded her arms, astonished at how conversation kept returning to the idea of faking a relationship with Henry, whether Maria was prodding her about making Sebastian jealous or Henry was eager to play more than poker.

  “Give me one good reason why I should pretend I like you,” she challenged.

  “Give me one good reason you shouldn’t,” he countered.

  And there it was, a truth so obvious she couldn’t deny it. Pretending to like Henry as more than a friend might not deflect all the tension in the air, but it wasn’t likely to make matters worse. Sebastian’s Just Friends arguments might hold more weight. Claire might be less inclined to lash out. She was awfully chipper when she was teasing Edie about the guitar strings. Besides, now that Edie’d taken a good look at Henry’s shoulders, she didn’t totally hate the idea of leaning her head on one of them. The plan kinda made sense, as long as she didn’t get stuck lying to her cousins or her classmates later. A single evening should be manageable. A sustained relationship was out of the question.

  “Okay,” she conceded. “One date. Then we’re back to being friends again.”

  “I can work with that.”

  They shook on it. Then Henry watched while Edie double-checked her fly, her shoelaces, and her ponytail elastic, anything to stall for a minute. When he started to chuckle, she realized she was being ridiculous. They were just going to hold hands and fake a little flirting. It was hardly cause for high anxiety.

  “All right,” she said at last. “Let’s do this.”

  She stepped forward but Henry held out a hand and halted her momentum.

  “Hold on a second. This setup’s too good to waste. Let’s at least make an entrance.” Henry let down her ponytai
l and mussed her hair. “Now bite your lips.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just chew on them for a couple seconds.”

  Edie did as instructed. Before she could collect herself, he took her hand and ran into the den. They circled the sectional a few times, clambering over the top, making chaos of the throw pillows, and careening around corners until they were both winded and laughing.

  “You look good.” He eyed her appreciatively as they paused by the back door. “If you ever want to recreate that flushed, out-of-breath look, I know a few other ways to achieve it.”

  “Only a few? That’s not what I heard.”

  Henry grinned as they stepped into the backyard. Sebastian and Claire were seated next to each other at the table, hands linked and chatting amicably. The glasses were filled, the chips stacked, the cards dealt. Everything was in place.

  Claire raised an eyebrow as Edie and Henry approached the table.

  “I can guess what you two have been doing,” she said.

  “Just stacking the soaps and lining up towels.” Henry tossed an arm over Edie’s shoulder. “Sorry if we jostled a few things. That bathroom’s a tight fit for two.”

  Sebastian sputtered out a cough.

  Edie blushed a deep shade of scarlet.

  Claire and Henry swapped an unsettlingly similar wicked smile.

  And the game was on.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  Henry swiftly justified his boast about being good at poker. His moves were unpredictable, his face was unreadable, and he almost always guessed what everyone else was holding. He also played his role as Edie’s date with Oscar-worthy thoroughness. He gave her strategic pointers while leaning over her shoulder and touching her neck where his fingers could find bare skin. He liberally doled out compliments. He suggestively alluded to time they’d spent together without ever telling a full-out lie. All the while, his chips stacked up.

  Sebastian was a terrible player. He made hasty choices. He kept forgetting the amount of the bets or the number of cards he intended to draw. He laughed at his lack of strategy, readily admitting he’d never learned to bluff or pay attention to what others might have in their hands. All the while, his chips went down.

  Edie was as poor a player as Sebastian. Her heart wasn’t in the game. She didn’t know where it was exactly, but wherever it’d perched itself, it wasn’t helping her decide whether to aim for a flush or hold on to a pair she’d been dealt. She only managed to stay afloat because Henry snuck her little clues about whether to call, raise, or fold. She hadn’t planned to cheat, but then she hadn’t planned to lie, either. For all her lofty moralizing with Henry, maybe her ethics were just as questionable.

  Unsurprisingly, Claire was the boldest player with the highest bets. She played poker the way she ran the social scene at school, with the sort of effortlessness that implied nothing was really at risk. If she lost one hand, she’d win another. She didn’t have to struggle or strategize. She simply had to play. Victory was inevitable.

  After several hands, when Henry and Sebastian had already folded, Claire and Edie faced off on opposite sides of the table. Despite the general sociability of the game so far, Edie was reminded of their school lunches all week: similar positions, different stakes. When playing for social status, Edie instantly resigned herself to defeat. When playing for chips, she could at least engage in the game. If they were playing for anything else, she chose to ignore it. She stared at her two pairs, doubtful they were high enough to win the pot. Her doubts increased as Claire pushed a tall stack of chips into the center of the table, her eyes brimming with challenge.

  “I bet it all,” she said. “You know what they say. Go big or go home.”

  “I can’t go big.” Edie nodded at her dozen or so scattered chips.

  Claire shrugged as if already tasting her triumph.

  “Then I guess there’s only one option,” she said.

  Edie tensed, sensing that Claire was hinting at more than the game. The bite in her voice was subtle enough to dismiss if anyone remarked on it, but Edie knew it well. Claire had been using it all week as she flaunted her social currency and found clever ways to remind Edie she didn’t belong. So much for engaging in the game.

  “I’ll loan you the chips,” Henry offered, already counting them out.

  “That’s okay.” Edie set down her cards. “I fold.”

  “Why?” Henry asked. “Claire’s got nothing.”

  “How do you know?” she demanded as she scooped up her winnings.

  “You have a tell.”

  “Oh?” Claire waited, blithely curious.

  Henry leaned forward, his grin slowly building.

  “You smile when you’re happy and you frown when you’re sad.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes, unamused by her brother’s teasing. Sebastian cooed reassurances and caressed away her irritation as quickly as it’d come on. While Edie tried to ignore their little love bubble, Henry scribbled an IOU and slid a stack of chips toward her. She was about to politely decline when Claire tsked.

  “You shouldn’t be helping her,” she said. “It gives Edie an unfair advantage.”

  “I disagree.” Henry settled back in his chair. “It evens things out a bit. Edie’s new at the game.”

  “Then it’s a good thing she brought such an experienced player.” Claire matched her brother’s lighthearted tone, but where Henry’s movement was languid, hers was brusquely punctuated, lending her jibes more of an edge.

  “So you’ve played a lot of poker?” Sebastian asked Henry.

  “Henry’s played a lot of everything,” Claire answered for him. “He’s not very particular about what he plays or who he plays it with.”

  Edie began to fidget, unable to ignore Claire’s implications. Henry must’ve sensed her growing discomfort, because he rested his hand near hers and flickered her fingers as if taunting her to lace them through his. The gesture was funny and cute. It made her smile, not in a fake way.

  “I shouldn’t take your chips,” she said quietly.

  “Sure you should.” He linked his pinkie finger around hers. “Hold out a few more rounds. Claire’s winning streaks never last. She has no long-term strategy.”

  As Edie cringed at his double meaning, Claire carefully realigned her chip tower.

  “At least I don’t get bored after only one hand,” she chided.

  Henry met her gaze, surprisingly serious, meting out his words.

  “My engagement level depends entirely on my opponent, and you’ve seen me be patient, persistent, and dedicated.” After a heavy pause, he turned toward Sebastian, his composure unwavering. “Did you want to keep playing? Apparently Claire still has a few chips to spend.”

  Claire shot Henry a bitter glance. Edie kicked him under the table. Sebastian didn’t appear to register either the glance or the kick. He simply let out a nervous laugh.

  “I’m out.” He held up his last three chips. “You guys are too good for me.”

  “Take some of mine,” Claire offered as she gathered up the cards. “Edie shouldn’t be the only one to accept handouts.”

  Edie’s jaw clenched as her temper threatened to burst. Sebastian caught her eye, his expression apologetic as he smoothed the already smooth wedge cut at the back of his neck. His silent apology was kind but useless. Henry’s little scheme had done wonders for about an hour, but it couldn’t erase all the underlying rivalries and resentments. Of course it couldn’t. Once again, Edie’d walked herself into an impossible situation, naively assuming everything would be fine as long as her intentions were good. What was that old saying? Something about good intentions paving the road to hell? No wonder things were heating up.

  While Edie started plotting her exit strategy, Henry brushed aside her hair and started gently massaging the growing knot at the base of her hairline.

  “You okay?” he murmured under his breath.

  She nodded, grateful for his support and, strangely, his touch.
His hand was warm and strong. She concentrated on the slow, spiraling motion of his thumb, trying to relax despite Claire’s sharply percussive shuffling on the other side of the table.

  “What are your cousins up to this evening?” she asked Edie, all sugar and honey with just a hint of razorblades. “Should we invite them to join us?”

  The knot in Edie’s neck tightened despite Henry’s persistent efforts to untangle it.

  “I think my cousins are busy,” she lied. In truth, Julia and Maria were probably spying through an upper-story window. Still, better they were up there than sitting at the poker table, vying for Henry’s attention and making the game even more awkward.

  “It must be wonderful to have such a close family,” Claire said. “Tell me, do the three of you share absolutely everything?”

  Edie grabbed her chips, ready to fling them at Claire, but Henry wrapped his hand around hers.

  “She only wins if you let her,” he whispered, his lips unnervingly close to her ear, his breath tickling, his deep voice traveling all the way to her toes.

  Edie released her chips as Henry continued massaging her neck. Despite her growing desire to draw the charade to a close, she was surprised to realize she was honestly happy to be there with Henry. No pretense. No game. Sure, he was only acting his part, but goddamn, the way his thumb worked away that knot and his fingertips stroked the tendons near her collarbone? That was nothing to complain about.

  “So, how’s the condo hunt going?” Henry asked Sebastian, shifting closer to use both hands on Edie’s neck. “Find anything you like near the NYU campus yet?”

  Claire quickly perked up.

  “I hope you get that one with the view of the park,” she said. “I told everyone at Saint Pen’s about it. I can’t wait for our first weekend together. I’ll show you all the best places to hang out nearby.”