All the Feels Page 9

  “There,” Liv said, pointing. “The one in the gray jacket. His name’s Jason, I think.”

  The look on Xander’s face was totally worth it. “Very funny,” he said sourly. “But I’m fairly sure I’m not Jason’s type, lacking breasts and”—he winced—“those horrific yoga pants.”

  Liv gave a catlike smile. “But you said choose anyone. Who’s overthinking now, Xander?”

  For a moment, Liv thought he was going to chicken out, but then he slid off his jacket and rolled up the French cuffs of his shirt. Now, instead of a nineteenth-century duke, he looked like a French exchange student overdressed for a night at the movies.

  “Christ almighty, woman. You’d better applaud when I’m done.”

  He rolled his shoulders and stood.

  “Jacket,” he said, reaching for Liv’s parka.

  “No way!”

  “Yes, way,” he said, grabbing her coat and pulling it on. The French exchange student was abruptly replaced by a somewhat emo-looking college freshman with killer looks. “Dressing for your role is all part of it,” Xander said.

  Before Liv could answer, he jogged up the aisle, a transformation taking place before her eyes. Xander’s posture changed. His limbs grew looser, movements less refined. Liv did her own double take. The Xander she knew and loved was gone, replaced by someone completely different.

  “Jason!” he shouted.

  Hank’s friends turned as one.

  Xander reached them and began to chatter, arms swinging in time to whatever he was saying. Liv watched the scene, openmouthed. Jason’s expression was stiff and wary, but the longer Xander talked, the more relaxed he became. Suddenly one of the other friends interrupted, and Xander laughed. Jason nodded and smiled, pointing to a seat near the end of the row of young men. Xander shook his head and waved bashfully before turning around and jogging down the aisle to Liv’s side.

  As if on cue, the lights in the theater dimmed.

  “What the hell was that?” Liv laughed.

  Xander grinned devilishly. “I take back what I said. Jason might be a tiny bit interested in me—not that he’d ever admit it in present company—but honestly? He’s not really my taste.”

  The first strains of the Starveil theme rose around them, but Liv hardly noticed. “But what was that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That thing! That thing you did right there!”

  “That, my dear Liv, was confidence. Talk to someone. Make jokes with them. Seem interested in what they are saying even if they’re dull as mud.” He shrugged. “Anyone … anyone at all, can be glamoured if you know how.”

  The music faded, opening credits beginning. “But how?” she mouthed.

  He leaned in, until his mouth was almost against her ear. “You pretend hard enough and they believe it,” he whispered. “That’s the key to casting a glamour. Byron had a clubfoot. No one cared. Every man and woman in the ton wanted him for their lover. It was all in how he carried himself.”

  Liv shivered. They were too close, and maybe she was feeling a little glamoured herself.

  “But I—I can’t do that.”

  “You can.”

  On-screen, Captain Spartan appeared. He was young and fresh-faced. Most days this image left Liv swooning, but tonight, sitting in the dark with Xander at her side, she could barely concentrate.

  “Confidence is something you’re born with.” Liv turned to look at him, their faces so close they were only a hairsbreadth away from a kiss. “You have it. I don’t.”

  A smile ghosted over Xander’s lips, his eyes dark with the suggestion of something Liv wasn’t sure she wanted to understand. “Then I’ll teach you.”

  Heart pounding, Liv nodded and lifted her gaze back to the screen, but with Xander beside her, Spartan was the last thing on her mind.

  * * *

  Liv was surprised the lights were on when Xander dropped her off at her house. Her mother made it her policy to be in bed by ten most nights because she got up at five each morning and left for work long before Liv even rolled out of bed. Seeing the glow from the windows, Liv felt a frisson of fear run the length of her spine. She unlocked the door and tiptoed inside.

  Her mother sat on the couch in her bathrobe, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, her work laptop and a scattering of papers in front of her.

  “Hey, Mom,” Liv said warily. “You’re up late.”

  “I was waiting up for you.” Her mother closed the laptop and pushed it aside. “Can you come here for a minute?”

  With those words, the panic Liv had been feeling ever since Hank had given her the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech came surging back. This was how her mother had looked when she’d told Liv her father had disappeared. This was how her mother looked when the police broke the news that they’d found his body. This was her mother, stoic at her husband’s funeral.

  This was Katherine Walden steeled for bad news.

  “O-okay.”

  “Sit down, Liv,” her mother said, patting the couch.

  Liv’s hands were icy claws as she slipped off her boots. Oh my God, her mind chanted. Something’s wrong! She hung her jacket on the hook by the door and came into the living room slowly, watching her mother’s face for clues. Katherine’s lips were a slash, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “What is it?” Liv asked.

  “We need to have a talk.” Her mother pointed to the empty cushion next to her. “Sit.”

  “Mom, you’re worrying me. What’s this all about?”

  “I was doing laundry today, and I found something in your room.”

  Liv frowned. “Oh?” Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

  “I think we need to talk about it.”

  Her mother reached past the laptop and picked up a paper. Liv’s breath caught in her chest as she read it:

  Liv Walden

  Midterm Exam: Calculus

  46%

  7

  “DON’T TALK OUT LOUD. YOU LOWER THE IQ OF THE WHOLE STREET.”

  (SHERLOCK)

  Every muscle in Liv’s body tensed to run.

  “Mom, I can expl—”

  “No,” her mother said in a hollow voice, “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “But—”

  “I went online after I found your exam. I looked up your @LivOutLoud account and started searching.”

  Liv blinked. “You did what?”

  “I googled all of it. You’re back at it again, Liv. You and Xander haven’t been working on school projects at all.” She opened the laptop back up, the screen blinding in the dim room. “Watch,” her mother commanded.

  Xander, as Major Malloy, stood in front of the burning remains of the colony on Io (which Liv had carefully lifted from the last Starveil trailer). The text “Spartan Survived!” rippled across the screen, disintegrating into a shower of sparks that rained down onto the colony’s pockmarked surface. As fire spread from building to building, the screen cut to a series of fan-generated images and video. These played in snippets on a holoscreen, while Xander begged the resistance to send more evidence of Spartan’s survival. “Your determination. Your proof has given us hope that Spartan still—”

  Her mother closed the laptop with a snap. Xander’s growling voice and the Starveil theme disappeared. “The crap you pulled in high school was one thing, but this is something else entirely. You’re going to flunk out of college at this rate.”

  “It was only a couple of vids.”

  “I don’t care. You said you were keeping up your grades, and now I find this?” She picked up the midterm exam and shook it at Liv. “You lied to me. You’re failing already.”

  “Mom, I can handle—”

  “No, Liv. You can’t.” Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “We saw that in high school, didn’t we? You have college riding on your grades now. I never thought you’d fall back into your Starveil obsession. Fandom…” Her lips curled on the word. “I hate it! And let me tell you, Liv, as long as yo
u’re living under my roof, you’ll live by my rules. This is going to stop!”

  Her mother’s voice had that crackling sound like she was about to cry, and that sent Liv’s emotions into an uproar. She blinked away wayward tears. Starveil had been one of the connections between Liv and her father. The fact that her mother had never understood it had been a thorn in their relationship for years.

  “It’s just one project, Mom. Just one.” (With any number of side projects, she thought but didn’t say.)

  Her mother took Liv’s hands in her own. She looked worn and tired, and Liv felt a sudden wave of guilt for putting this on her shoulders.

  “You’re going to stop,” Katherine said grimly.

  Liv jerked her hands away. “What?!”

  “It’s over, Liv.”

  “But I can handle it! People in the Starveil fandom really care about these vids! You can’t just—”

  “Yes! I can and I will! You are done with this nonsense! Fandom is destroying your future!”

  Liv’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But, Mom—”

  “After that stunt you pulled last year, I know exactly how this will turn out! School matters, Liv. Real life matters. This”—she pointed to the closed laptop—“doesn’t! Fandom is a waste of time and talent.”

  “It’s not!”

  Her mother caught Liv’s hands again, and this time she held them so tight Liv couldn’t get away. Her tone grew cold. “Let me be perfectly clear: You will give up fandom, Liv. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

  Tears rolled down Liv’s cheeks. She couldn’t breathe let alone speak.

  “It’s over,” Katherine said in a weary voice. “Focus on school this semester. Promise me.”

  Liv hung her head, chest aching. “Fine.”

  “And, Liv, I want you to know that I’m only saying this because I—”

  But Liv stood from the couch and sprinted away before her mother could finish.

  * * *

  * * *

  With midterms over and the spring semester barreling toward finals, Liv’s entire purpose at school became to avoid a confrontation with Hank, who seemed determined to bravado his way through the stilted awkwardness that followed their encounter. More than once, Hank tried to talk to Liv during sociology, and several times he offered to grab a coffee at break, but her panic in the wake of recent events quickly ended the last semblance of a relationship. It was better that way, Liv told herself the day Hank moved to sit on the opposite side of the classroom. Easier. She just wished it didn’t hurt to see him laughing and talking. Unlike Liv, Hank found it easy to make friends.

  The problem was, Liv’s hormones hadn’t gotten the message that Hank was out-of-bounds. And as days moved into weeks, the dreams began. They featured Hank as Spartan, caught in the dying Star Freighter Elysium. She woke frustrated and upset, more disturbed by her brain’s refusal to give up on Hank than by his rejection. And with fandom off-limits, there was nothing to distract herself with.

  Days trundled past. Usually she would have invited Xander over and thrown together another #SpartanSurvived vid, but she was determined to keep her promise of “no fandom” to her mother. Trouble was, fandom was more than a hobby, it was a support system. Without it, Liv had no one to talk to when she was lonely. She had nothing to look forward to after school, and no outlet for creativity. Liv found herself spiraling back into melancholy.

  She got up.

  She went to classes.

  She came home.… And then did it all over again.

  Sleep became the escape that fandom had once been. She would have happily locked herself in her bedroom forever, if Xander and Arden hadn’t arrived early one Saturday morning.

  “Rise and shine!” Arden said in a chirpy voice. “It’s time to go.”

  Liv glared at her. (Who in their right mind straight-ironed their hair on weekends?)

  “No, thank you.”

  “Liv, dear. Get up,” Xander said drily. “You’ve hidden in this dusty mausoleum long enough.” He kicked a rumpled pair of pants out of his way, wrinkling his nose. “In this state, your room isn’t fit for human occupation. Arden and I are here to abscond with you to the outside world. Now let’s go!”

  “Don’t want to,” Liv grumbled.

  Arden gave a long-suffering sigh. “Xander and I aren’t leaving until you move. This behavior isn’t healthy. I’m serious, Liv. You need to get out of the house once in a while.”

  Liv retreated under the covers. Perhaps if she fell asleep, they’d leave. (Why was Arden here, anyhow?)

  “Liv, are you listening to me?” Arden said. “I’m not leaving till you—”

  “Go AWAY!”

  “No!” Arden jerked on the covers, and Liv’s fingers tightened. “You are getting up.” Arden tugged again, but Liv refused to let go. “Xander,” Arden said through clenched teeth. “A little help here?”

  “Oh, no.” He chuckled. “You seem to have that all firmly in hand.”

  Xander stood at the end of the bed, hands on hips, the jacket Liv had helped him sew thrown open, a gold-threaded waistcoat glimmering underneath. He was the Regency hero today, but she didn’t feel like being saved.

  “Why are you guys bugging me anyhow?” Liv snarled.

  “Because you’re in a melancholy funk,” Xander said.

  “I’m not.”

  “No? Then get out of bed,” Arden said sweetly.

  Most days, Liv didn’t mind Arden’s chipper attitude. Today she fought the urge to smother her with a pillow. Xander wandered to the dresser and picked up a Spartan action figure that had fallen sideways, inspecting it with a bemused expression.

  “Leave my stuff alone,” Liv ordered.

  He put the figure down. “Only if you prove to me that you’re still alive. C’mon. Arden and I are taking you out for breakfast.”

  “And then we’re—”

  “Breakfast,” Xander said, giving Arden a warning look. “Out of the dark is an important step.” Xander brushed a place clear at the edge of the bed and sat next to Liv. “This room isn’t healthy.”

  “Nobody’s making you stay.” Liv’s voice cracked. “Hank sure didn’t.”

  Xander rolled his eyes. “For goodness’ sake, Liv. It was one guy—and not a particularly interesting one at that. He is not worth this reaction.”

  “So, what? I’m just supposed to keep asking guys out until one says yes?”

  Arden grinned. “Yes, exactly!”

  “I don’t need your help,” Liv snapped.

  “Come on, Liv,” Xander said, patting her knee. “You’re already dressed. We’re just offering breakfast.” He glared at Arden. “That’s all.”

  “I’m tired.”

  Arden had cleared a path to the door with the efficiency of an infomercial host. She spun back around, surveying her work. “Then let’s get coffee. C’mon, Liv. Just an hour.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “But only if you guys are buying.”

  Xander began to laugh. “Lord, if I’d known that was the key, we could’ve saved all the dramatics.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, they sat in Cup O’ Joe, three espressos on the table between them. Liv was determined to sulk, but Xander and Arden’s cheerfulness was hard to resist.

  “Hank wasn’t the one,” Arden said with a gentle smile, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t find you someone. There are plenty more fish in the sea. You deserve to be happy.”

  Liv grimaced. “I don’t want to be your pet project, thanks.”

  “Why?” Arden said. “Xander’s already yours.”

  Xander had been watching the repartee from behind his cup, but at Arden’s barb, he dropped his voice to Malloy’s growl: “Your perseverance, your courage, is what we need to conquer this dating disaster.”

  “Ha-ha,” Liv said. “Very funny.”

  “Well, I thought so.”

  “What we need to do is get you some momentum,” Arden said. “Get you exposed to a few dozen—”


  “Dozen?!” Liv gasped.

  “—men and then figure out what you like. Once you’ve got that down, you’re fine!”

  Xander rolled his eyes and returned to his espresso.

  “Maybe I don’t have someone out there,” Liv said. “Maybe he drowned when he was five.”

  “God, Liv. Try not to be so creepy,” Arden snorted. “That is a definite turnoff. How are you supposed to find a soul mate if you chase them all away?”

  “I don’t believe in soul mates,” Liv grumbled.

  “Me neither,” Xander said, “but I tend to think there are people who you can click with. You just have to spend enough time with them to find out.”

  Liv took another scalding sip of espresso. She could feel the caffeine making its way into her bloodstream. Sitting here in the café made her feel like she’d been asleep for days and was finally starting to wake up.

  “Look, you guys,” Liv said. “I know you mean well, but I don’t know how to talk to men.”

  “You talk to me,” Xander said in a hurt voice.

  Liv shook her head. “You don’t count.” Xander made a choking sound of exasperation. “It’s different with you. It’s just … easy.”

  Arden’s gaze moved from one to the other, her eyes narrowing. “So if you can talk to Xander, then you can talk to men. We just need to find you the right ones.”

  “I don’t know, Arden. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  Arden grinned. “Oh, you’re ready all right! It’s like a dating rule: Freshman year is the time to mingle.”

  “Maybe…” Liv set her coffee back on the table and blinked. The room seemed brighter, sounds clearer. Maybe coming out had been a good idea.

  “Soul mates and dating rules aside,” Xander said, “it’s a truth universally acknowledged, that a young woman of your intelligence and stature may consider dating, if only for her own enjoyment. No other reason, dearest.”

  A smile brushed Liv’s lips. “Universally acknowledged, hmm?”

  “It is.” Xander loosened the tight knot of the cravat at his throat and looked away.

  Liv sighed. “So how’s that supposed to work if I’ve vowed never to ask a guy out again?”

  Arden gave her a scheming grin. “You let me play matchmaker.”