Page 65 of Jump on Three

“Is it difficult?”

“Not really, though I haven’t tried reading or writing Cyrillic yet.”

“What made you choose Russian? I thought Italian was your plan.”

I stretched my legs in front of me. Lying to Delilah wasn’t an option—and not just because I was terrible at it. I would not sully our relationship by introducing falsehoods. She was the one person I could fully unmask and be myself around. There was nothing worth endangering that.

“Italian is on the list, but I changed my mind because of Ivan Sokolov. He’s on the swim team, you know?”

She nodded. Of course she knew.

“We’ve been speaking more, and his accent entranced me.”

One eyebrow winged. “Ivan’s the reason you’re learning Russian?”

“Yes.”

Her mouth quirked like that amused her. At least she no longer tensed when he was brought up. She hadn’t done that in months.

“Have you tried out your Russian on him yet?” she asked.

“Not yet. I haven’t told him I’m learning. I’d like to be a little more masterful before I do.”

“I’m certain he’d be pleased to practice with you. He’s a very good guy.”

She looked at me for a while. If she was expecting a reply, she didn’t indicate it. I leaned toward agreeing with her, but I didn’t have enough facts to make such a declarative statement.

She held out her hand to me, and I slipped my palm against hers. Our joined hands lay on my blanket. I studied her face. I knew it better than mine. We were not identical, but we were close enough alike our parents had considered having our DNA be tested when we were young to be sure.

Then we got a little older, and our bodies took on different shapes—Delilah got all the boobs and ass—and my neurodivergence could not be ignored.

So, we were not identical, but we were the same in so many ways. For a very long time, we had been a unit. There hadn’t been Evelyn without Delilah, and Delilah without Evelyn.

Over the last year, landing here at SA, we’d slowly relaxed in the relative safety of these hallowed halls and allowed space between us.

Just a little.

Not too much.

But it was there, and in that space, we were growing in different ways.

Delilah had Rhys and his family. She had her favorite classes, which weren't the same as mine.

I had Bella and music and Sherlock Sal and adventures.

I’d almost had Ivan.

It didn’t hurt to be changing apart from her, but that was because I knew we always had this—check-ins in my bed, our joined hands on my blanket. Sometimes, though, when I thought about it too much, it made me nervous.

“Does it scare you when we go for a few days without spending this kind of time together?” I whispered to her.

She nodded, her fingers curling tighter around mine. “It scares me that we’re capable of being apart.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“I know.” Her nose crinkled, and I felt myself mirroring her. “But it scares me, nonetheless.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “Bella and I are planning to go to an EDM festival in April.”