All the Feels (13 page)

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Liv’s smile faded as a group of young men entered, jostling one another as they headed up the aisle. “Just my luck,” she groaned, slumping until the back of her chair blocked the group of men from view.

Xander sat up, following her line of sight. “Is that the fabled Granola I’ve heard so much about?”

“No,” Liv sighed. “But they’re all his friends, and that means he’s probably here, too.” She slid down until her chin rested on her chest. “Dragnat all! This was a terrible idea.”

“No,” Xander said. “It’s not. And who cares if he sees you out? That’s good, right? You’re not pining for him. You’re moving on.” He slid his arm over her shoulders and winked. “Moving
up
, in my opinion.”

“Not helping,” Liv fumed. She refused to turn around to see where Hank’s friends had gone.

“My dear Liv,” Xander said in his best “Colin Firth trying to be rational” tone. “You’re worrying about this far too much.” His words were clipped, inflection decidedly upper-crust.

“I wouldn’t care,” Liv sighed, “except I thought he actually liked me.”

“And perhaps he did. A ‘no’ could have many reasons for it.”

“He didn’t like me, at least not in that way.” Liv took a surreptitious peek over the back of the seat. Hank’s friends were there, but there was no Spartan look-alike among them, no glowing smile. She turned back, catching Xander watching her. “I’m just one of the guys to Hank. I could have been anyone. You, even.”

Xander’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I’m sorry, dearest. You may be many things, but you are
not
one of the guys.”

“Yes, I am. That’s exactly how guys think of me. It’s my role.” She nodded to a passel of young women dressed in yoga pants and too-tight T-shirts. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Good lord,” Xander said with a shudder. “Who’d want to? That’s about as unfeminine as I can imagine.”

Liv giggled.

“Your problem, dear, is that you trap yourself by overthinking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Xander’s lips curled mischievously. “You could become a Siren, luring men to their deaths.” He leaned forward. “I’d follow you onto the rocks.”

“Just so you could laugh when I drowned.”

“Pfft! Flirting’s like acting. Even fools get onstage.”

“But flirting depends on timing, and not sticking your foot in your mouth,” Liv argued. “I suck at it.”

“Rubbish!” Xander said in a sharp voice. He sat up, looking around the theater. “You’re overthinking again. Choose someone. Anyone here.”

“Wh-what?”

“Choose someone. Anyone in the theater. Right here and now.”

“I am
not
going to talk to them.”

“I know,” he said with a wink, “but I am. And I’ll show you what I mean.”

Liv peered up and down the aisles, catching sight of Hank’s friends. Xander snapped his fingers.

“Hurry up, Liv, the movie’s going to start. Wouldn’t want to miss Spartan, would I?”

It was his jibe that made her do it.

“There,” Liv said, pointing. “The one in the gray jacket. His name’s Jason, I think.”

The look on Xander’s face was totally worth it. “Very funny,” he said sourly. “But I’m fairly sure I’m not Jason’s type, lacking breasts and”—he winced—“those horrific yoga pants.”

Liv gave a catlike smile. “But you said choose anyone. Who’s overthinking now, Xander?”

For a moment, Liv thought he was going to chicken out, but then he slid off his jacket and rolled up the French cuffs of his shirt. Now, instead of a nineteenth-century duke, he looked like a French exchange student overdressed for a night at the movies.

“Christ almighty, woman. You’d better applaud when I’m done.”

He rolled his shoulders and stood.

“Jacket,” he said, reaching for Liv’s parka.

“No way!”

“Yes, way,” he said, grabbing her coat and pulling it on. The French exchange student was abruptly replaced by a somewhat emo-looking college freshman with killer looks. “Dressing for your role is all part of it,” Xander said.

Before Liv could answer, he jogged up the aisle, a transformation taking place before her eyes. Xander’s posture changed. His limbs grew looser, movements less refined. Liv did her own double take. The Xander she knew and loved was gone, replaced by someone completely different.

“Jason!” he shouted.

Hank’s friends turned as one.

Xander reached them and began to chatter, arms swinging in time to whatever he was saying. Liv watched the scene, openmouthed. Jason’s expression was stiff and wary, but the longer Xander talked, the more relaxed he became. Suddenly one of the other friends interrupted, and Xander laughed. Jason nodded and smiled, pointing to a seat near the end of the row of young men. Xander shook his head and waved bashfully before turning around and jogging down the aisle to Liv’s side.

As if on cue, the lights in the theater dimmed.

“What the hell was that?” Liv laughed.

Xander grinned devilishly. “I take back what I said. Jason might be a tiny bit interested in me—not that he’d ever admit it in present company—but honestly? He’s not really my taste.”

The first strains of the
Starveil
theme rose around them, but Liv hardly noticed. “But what
was
that?”

“What do you mean?”

“That thing! That thing you did right there!”

“That, my dear Liv, was confidence. Talk to someone. Make jokes with them. Seem interested in what they are saying even if they’re dull as mud.” He shrugged. “Anyone … anyone at all, can be glamoured if you know how.”

The music faded, opening credits beginning. “But how?” she mouthed.

He leaned in, until his mouth was almost against her ear. “You pretend hard enough and
they
believe it,” he whispered. “That’s the key to casting a glamour. Byron had a clubfoot. No one cared. Every man and woman in the ton wanted him for their lover. It was all in how he carried himself.”

Liv shivered. They were too close, and maybe she was feeling a little glamoured herself.

“But I—I can’t do that.”

“You can.”

On-screen, Captain Spartan appeared. He was young and fresh-faced. Most days this image left Liv swooning, but tonight, sitting in the dark with Xander at her side, she could barely concentrate.

“Confidence is something you’re born with.” Liv turned to look at him, their faces so close they were only a hairsbreadth away from a kiss. “You have it. I don’t.”

A smile ghosted over Xander’s lips, his eyes dark with the suggestion of something Liv wasn’t sure she wanted to understand. “Then I’ll teach you.”

Heart pounding, Liv nodded and lifted her gaze back to the screen, but with Xander beside her, Spartan was the last thing on her mind.

*   *   *

Liv was surprised the lights were on when Xander dropped her off at her house. Her mother made it her policy to be in bed by ten most nights because she got up at five each morning and left for work long before Liv even rolled out of bed. Seeing the glow from the windows, Liv felt a frisson of fear run the length of her spine. She unlocked the door and tiptoed inside.

Her mother sat on the couch in her bathrobe, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, her work laptop and a scattering of papers in front of her.

“Hey, Mom,” Liv said warily. “You’re up late.”

“I was waiting up for you.” Her mother closed the laptop and pushed it aside. “Can you come here for a minute?”

With those words, the panic Liv had been feeling ever since Hank had given her the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech came surging back. This was how her mother had looked when she’d told Liv her father had disappeared. This was how her mother looked when the police broke the news that they’d found his body. This was her mother, stoic at her husband’s funeral.

This was Katherine Walden steeled for bad news.

“O-okay.”

“Sit down, Liv,” her mother said, patting the couch.

Liv’s hands were icy claws as she slipped off her boots.
Oh my God
, her mind chanted.
Something’s wrong!
She hung her jacket on the hook by the door and came into the living room slowly, watching her mother’s face for clues. Katherine’s lips were a slash, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What is it?” Liv asked.

“We need to have a talk.” Her mother pointed to the empty cushion next to her. “Sit.”

“Mom, you’re worrying me. What’s this all about?”

“I was doing laundry today, and I found something in your room.”

Liv frowned. “Oh?” Whatever
this
was, it couldn’t be good.

“I think we need to talk about it.”

Her mother reached past the laptop and picked up a paper. Liv’s breath caught in her chest as she read it:

Liv Walden

Midterm Exam: Calculus

46%

7

“DON’T TALK OUT LOUD. YOU LOWER THE IQ OF THE WHOLE STREET.”

(S
HERLOCK
)

Every muscle in Liv’s body tensed to run.

“Mom, I can expl—”

“No,” her mother said in a hollow voice, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“But—”

“I went online after I found your exam. I looked up your @LivOutLoud account and started searching.”

Liv blinked. “You did
what
?”

“I googled
all
of it. You’re back at it again, Liv. You and Xander haven’t been working on school projects at all.” She opened the laptop back up, the screen blinding in the dim room. “Watch,” her mother commanded.

Xander, as Major Malloy, stood in front of the burning remains of the colony on Io (which Liv had carefully lifted from the last
Starveil
trailer). The text “Spartan Survived!” rippled across the screen, disintegrating into a shower of sparks that rained down onto the colony’s pockmarked surface. As fire spread from building to building, the screen cut to a series of fan-generated images and video. These played in snippets on a holoscreen, while Xander begged the resistance to send more evidence of Spartan’s survival.
“Your determination. Your proof has given us hope that Spartan still—”

Her mother closed the laptop with a snap. Xander’s growling voice and the
Starveil
theme disappeared. “The crap you pulled in high school was one thing, but this is something else entirely. You’re going to flunk out of college at this rate.”

“It was only a couple of vids.”

“I don’t care. You said you were keeping up your grades, and now I find this?” She picked up the midterm exam and shook it at Liv. “You
lied
to me. You’re failing already.”

“Mom, I can handle—”

“No, Liv. You
can’t.
” Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “We saw that in high school, didn’t we? You have college riding on your grades now. I never thought you’d fall back into your
Starveil
obsession. Fandom…” Her lips curled on the word. “I hate it! And let me tell you, Liv, as long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll live by my rules. This is going to stop!”

Her mother’s voice had that crackling sound like she was about to cry, and that sent Liv’s emotions into an uproar. She blinked away wayward tears.
Starveil
had been one of the connections between Liv and her father. The fact that her mother had never understood it had been a thorn in their relationship for years.

“It’s just one project, Mom. Just one.” (
With any number of side projects
, she thought but didn’t say.)

Her mother took Liv’s hands in her own. She looked worn and tired, and Liv felt a sudden wave of guilt for putting this on her shoulders.

“You’re going to stop,” Katherine said grimly.

Liv jerked her hands away. “What?!”

“It’s
over
, Liv.”

“But I can handle it! People in the
Starveil
fandom really care about these vids! You can’t just—”

“Yes! I can and I
will
! You are done with this nonsense! Fandom is destroying your future!”

Liv’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But, Mom—”

“After that stunt you pulled last year, I know
exactly
how this will turn out! School matters, Liv. Real life matters. This”—she pointed to the closed laptop—“doesn’t! Fandom is a waste of time and talent.”

“It’s not!”

Her mother caught Liv’s hands again, and this time she held them so tight Liv couldn’t get away. Her tone grew cold. “Let me be perfectly clear: You
will
give up fandom, Liv. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

Tears rolled down Liv’s cheeks. She couldn’t breathe let alone speak.

“It’s over,” Katherine said in a weary voice. “Focus on school this semester. Promise me.”

Liv hung her head, chest aching. “Fine.”

“And, Liv, I want you to know that I’m only saying this because I—”

But Liv stood from the couch and sprinted away before her mother could finish.

*   *   *