She said, “I just want to pretend. I want to pretend that I could.”

“You magical thing,” Gansey said, and hugged her head, freeing much of her hair from its clips.

I thought you would be hairier, she whispered. Sorry to disappoint. The legs have a bit more going on. Mine too.

“When are you going to tell me what this is really about?” This made her heave a great shuddered breath that was close to tears. “Never.”

“I’ve learned a lot. I’m glad you misdialed.” “Well. Easy mistake to make,” she said. “Might do it again.” “Shouldn’t,” Gansey said finally. “But I hope you do.”

“Why do we breathe air? Because we love air? Because we don’t want to suffocate. Why do we eat? Because we don’t want to starve. How do I know I love her? Because I can sleep after I talk to her.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I kiss you,” he whispered. “Maybe it’s only if you kiss me.”

“This is all down to you. Putting us on the line, finally. I could kiss you.” Though he was obviously joking, Blue skittered to the side. “What was that for?”

He closed his eyes and leaned, just a little, so that her palm was flat on his neck, fingers sprawled from his ear to his shoulder.

“You magical thing,” Gansey said, and hugged her head, freeing much of her hair from its clips.

Right after he spoke, Blue threw her arms tightly around his neck. Right after he spoke, she pressed her face into the side of his. Right after he spoke, she held him like a shouted word. Love, love, love.

“Thanks for coming, Jane,” Gansey said. Blue shot him a dirty look. “You’re welcome, Dick.” He looked pained. “Please don’t.”

“I suppose … she makes me quiet. Like Henrietta.”

“This is all down to you. Putting us on the line, finally. I could kiss you.” Though he was obviously joking, Blue skittered to the side. “What was that for?”

“Yes,” Gansey said. “I know. I’ve done it once before. Die, I mean. Do you not like the fruit bits? That’s the best part.” He directed this last statement to Blue, who gave him her mostly empty yogurt cup. He was very clearly done with talking about death.

It was this: Gansey saying, “I like you an awful lot, Blue Sargent.”

In the rearview mirror, he caught Blue’s eyes by accident. Strangely enough, he saw his own thoughts reflected in her face: excitement and consternation.

This Gansey, this story-telling Gansey, was a different person altogether from any of the other versions of him she’d encountered. She couldn’t not listen.

“I wish you could be kissed, Jane,” he said. “Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.” He flailed an arm toward the stars. “And then we’d never say anything about it again.”

Then Gansey said, very slowly, “Ronan, you’re never going to talk to Jane like that again.”