Suddenly I wished I could back up and start again. Things were spiraling out of my control, and I had known Brin long enough to recognize when she was getting mad. Lamely, I tried to explain, “I started to like him…”
“Of course you like him,” she said, sounding relieved. “He’s your best friend.”
“No, I mean…” Why was this proving to be so difficult? I wished I didn’t feel anything for her; then I could tell her what I really wanted to say without fear of hurting her. But the more I tried to soften the blow, the more we went around and around, as if trapped on the monorail and picking up speed.
Gently I took her hand. “Brin.”
She sighed, relaxing. “Yes?”
Here it goes.“I mean I started liking him the way I used to like you.”
Her hand jerked out of mine. “Usedto?”
Oops.Wrong way to put it.
“What do you mean, usedto?” she yelled, taking another step back as she leveled a finger at me. “You are my Other, Aine. We were born for each other. You’re supposed to…to loveme.”