Ransom(45)
I laugh, pulling the hoodie on over the one I’m already wearing. I probably look like the Michelin Man, but I don’t care—I’m warm.
“You seem different,” Karen says. “Since we’ve left school, I mean. You laugh a lot more.”
My cheeks heat up a little, and I look down.
She points at me. “And that—you look away a lot less. When I first met you, it was like you couldn’t make eye contact to save your life. You look at people now.”
“Leave her alone,” Paige says.
“I’m not teasing,” Karen insists. “I swear, Daisy. I mean it as a compliment. You seem happier, is all.”
I look up to see Paige smiling. “It’s true,” she says. “You seem much happier.”
“And you hug people, now,” Karen adds. “I couldn’t believe it when you hugged all the boys the other night. It was so automatic.”
My face feels really hot now, but I force myself to keep my head up. “Yeah, well, I guess I just fell back into old habits when I saw them. I kind of… forgot about everything else.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Paige says. “It’s nice that you’re happy. And it’s obvious that you’re really comfortable with them.”
I shrug, not knowing how to respond.
She grins slyly. “Particularly Daltrey.”
I shush her, looking around. “Someone will hear you!”
She smirks. “When we asked you about him in the car the other day, you failed to mention that you were crazy about him.”
“Paige!”
“What? You’re supposed to talk about your crushes with your girlfriends. That’s like, the point of having girlfriends.”
“She’s right,” Karen says, wrapping a blanket around her and leaning against the wall. “Oh my God, that feels so much better.” She looks at me expectantly. “So? Come on. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill. And I don’t have a crush.”
“Yeah, right. I saw the way you were looking at him during the show.”
I gape at her. I thought they’d both been too into the concert to pay me any attention. “How was I looking at him?”
“The way everyone else in that theater was looking at him—like you wished you had a few minutes alone with him, pants optional.”
Paige giggles.
I’m horrified. “I was not.”
“Okay, sure. Whatever.” Karen peers over her blanket at me. “What about backstage then? Huh?”
“What about it?”
She looks over at Paige, and they both roll their eyes.
“He was like, staring at you, sweetie,” Paige says, “while you were talking to Lennon.”
“He was?” My voice sounds squeaky in my own ears.
“Definitely. It was like, laser beams homed in on just you. Super intense.”
“But… that’s just… it was probably just because we haven’t seen each other in so long.”
Paige shrugs. “Maybe. But it didn’t look that way.”
I have no idea what to do with this information. She’s got to be exaggerating. That’s what Paige does. But a quick look at Karen shows that she’s in total agreement. “What did it look like?” I whisper, not sure I want to know.
“It looked like he was head over heels for you.”
I stare back and forth between the two of them, certain one of them will start laughing any minute now. When they don’t, I gulp heavily. “That can’t be true.”
“Whatever,” Karen says. “I know what I saw. The boy’s into you.”
Paige nods. “The only question is, what do you plan to do about it?”
“Do?” My voice has reached all-time high levels of shrillness.
“Yes, do. Daltrey’s clearly nuts about you, and you’re clearly nuts about him.”
“Excuse me.” We look up and see a girl about our age, decked out in head-to-toe Ransom merchandise, standing at the side of our blanket. She has an accent I can’t immediately place. Australian, maybe? “Are you guys Heartbreakers?”
Karen, Paige, and I share a confused glance.
“Sorry, what?” Paige asks.
“Heartbreakers! You know, the number one RPG group in like, the entire fandom?”
“What’s RPG?” Karen asks.
“Role playing game?” The girl laughs a little. She’s definitely Australian, and I’m once again struck by the surrealism of the situation. This girl traveled overseas to see the Ransome boys. “You guys are role players, right? You keep talking about Daltrey, and I thought I heard you say Lennon’s name a minute ago.” For the first time, her smile fades. Without it, she looks slightly off, almost a bit… disturbed. “Are you messing with me?”