Merlin, Circe, and Agrippa. Drew was going to die of embarrassment and it was going to be sweet Marley Chapman’s fault. “Um,” he began, but he couldn’t think of an end to the sentence. What was he supposed to say to this? Marley would be a hell of a prosecutor. She would just ask so many questions that the defendant would tell her everything. “We don’t really talk about dating,” he said, dry-mouthed.
And then he found himself thinking he should make the absolutely insane decision of fessing up to Marley, because it wasn’t like he could tell any of the people he would normally talk to about feelings and being confused. Dad was pretty good at relationships but he was, as far as Drew could tell, not someone who got things like liking more than one person at the same time. It had always been Aaron for him. (Drew had a very hazy memory of Dad dating the mother of one of his daycare friends a loooong time ago, but he couldn’t remember anything about her or her daughter, so it clearly hadn’t been that serious.) Aaron might get it, but if you started talking about anything even remotely close to relationships around Aaron he’d be under the couch as a border collie before you finished the sentence. If Dakota could turn into a border collie, she would probably do the same thing, and that wasn’t even touching on her Remington-related paranoia. Kit would probably make a flyer about it within the hour, and Madeleine was eleven and wouldn’t have any advice even if she wouldn’t be thoroughly scandalized by the information, which she would. DJ already seemed to know, but Drew was almost certain that talking to him about this would violate some article of the bro code.
Ironically Remy would be the ideal person to help Drew figure out his life, because she was the smartest student at RMI, but for obvious reasons that was the worst option of all.
Marley, though. Drew didn’t want to make a mess, or start anything, but he was pretty sure Marley could keep a secret (as long as he specifically asked her to) and there had been so much drama, historically, about her love life—Drew hadn’t been involved and didn’t know anything specific about that, but maybe she would get it. She got it about Remy, at least. Drew could really use someone who got it. And she was one of the least freak-out-able people at RMI, although that was a low bar: she earned her spot on that list because Drew couldn’t imagine her committing arson or punching anyone.
Besides, he was pretty sure all his stammering and blushing and pausing had already given himself away, so there was nothing to lose.
“I don’t know about Remy, but, um, yeah, I have thought about it,” he said, the tense vague enough that he could have deniability. No, that wasn’t right. If he was going to say something he should commit to it. He was doing a horrible job committing to anything else in his life. “I don’t know if she feels the same way and, anyway, I’ve been dating Darlene since second year,” he said, as if to remind Marley, as if absolutely anyone could forget that he’d been dating Darlene for like, a fifth of his life. “So I guess it doesn’t matter.”