Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Lulu lies in the dark and stares at the ceiling.
She’s out. Technically, she’s been out. Cass is the only person she’s ever said bisexual out loud to, but the Sloane thing happened, and she didn’t, like, deny it, or do any damage control. She knew what people assumed and she let them assume it; she let those assumptions harden into things people repeated like a fact. Which it is. It’s a true fact about her.
So she shouldn’t mind now, the idea that she’s just confirming what everyone already knows. And having a girlfriend is cool, right? Sexy, kind of. She knows that’s what her friends at school would say if she asked them. It’s 2020, Lulu. You should date whoever you want, duh. Get it, girl.
Instead she feels terrified. Liking Owen was so easy. There was nothing to explain about her sweet, handsome boyfriend. What more normal thing could a teenage girl do with herself than have a crush on a boy?
Liking Cass asks Lulu to expose something about herself that people might not guess just by looking at her. It also exposes Cass, because if this is real, Lulu has to think about how to integrate Cass into Lulu’s aestheticized, structured, constantly captured real life. And she’s not sure she wants that—that she’s ready for Cass to be public property any more than she’s ready for The Hotel to open up and become a place anyone can visit.
Does that mean she’s ashamed of her? That she’s fetishizing her? That she’s protecting her?
The questions swirl around Lulu so persistently that she can almost imagine them taking on weight in the air around her, thickening the darkness with their presence. Once again, something is happening that she doesn’t have a strategy for. She doesn’t know how to navigate it and keep herself and the person she cares about safe.
The difference is that this time she wants to let it happen anyway.
All she knows is that no matter how long she lies there driving herself crazy about what she wants, what Cass wants, what would be best for either or both of them, she stays anchored by the weight of Cass’s hand on her belly.
And she doesn’t set an alarm. She doesn’t sneak off, she doesn’t take her questions with her and disappear, even though she wants to. She falls asleep eventually. When she wakes up her cheek is pillowed on the tangle of Cass’s hair. Here they are, in bed together, she thinks. Here they are, in the light of morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE