“Yes, about climate change, not my personal relationships.”
Beau’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, but to his credit, he doesn’t swerve into oncoming traffic.
“Not hooking up,” he says, calm. “Just helping out.”
“Helping out,” she repeats with a smirk. “Classic denial phrase.”
“Do you never watch my videos? We’ve been working together all semester. Raising the profile of the hockey department.”
Celeste rolls her eyes. “I hate hockey. But you know. I might be convinced to give it a chance if they all look like him.”
A flush burns the back of my neck. “Celeste. Stop it. You’re seventeen. Stop objectifying my...” I cut myself off, not even sure what I was going to let slip.
That at least gets her to drag her eyes away from her phone for a minute. “Boyfriend? You were going to say boyfriend. I knew it.” She slams her hand down on the leather seat.
I peek at Beau out of the corner of my eye, but he catches me at it. Instead of the horrified look I was expecting, his lips are twisted in amusement.
“He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just...” I pause, glancing at him again, but his wink doesn’t give me any idea what to say. “Seeing each other.” I’m not sure why I’m hesitant to share with my sister what’s going on between us.
“Naked?” Celeste asks, and a fresh wave of embarrassment crashes over me. Ah, there it is.
“If you don’t stop it, I’m going to have Beau kick you out on the side of the road. You can walk the rest of the way to your competition.”
She sighs. “You’re no fun.” But then she goes back to the never-ending scroll.
Beau’s eyes flick to the mirror and back. Then he slips his hand onto my knee, and the warm weight settles my nerves.
We get to the venue right on time, of course. Punctuality is encoded in his DNA, after all. The place is sheer chaos. Sparkly backpacks, aggressive ponytails, moms clutching hairspray like they’re storming a battlefield. I duck into go-mode, directing Celeste through registration, costume bag drop, emergency bobby pin audit.
Beau trails behind, not hovering, just there. Quiet. Observing the chaos.
After Celeste disappears backstage, I find an empty bench and melt into it. He reappears three minutes later, holding out a paper cup.
“Coffee. You looked like you were gonna collapse on me.”
I take it, inhaling the sweet aroma as if it can chase away the last few weeks of exhaustion.
“She’s good,” he says after a beat.
“Yeah,” I answer. “She’s worked her ass off.”
We find seats in the auditorium. I hold my phone up to record, but my hands are shaky. Could be the lack of sleep, or it could be the pride swelling in my chest. Watching Celeste dance is everything. Makes it worth the hours of content I’m creating to help fund her dream. Because she’s incredible, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister.
She steps onto the floor, and for three minutes, she’s not seventeen or sarcastic or impossible. She’s a force. Fluid and sharp and luminous. I don’t breathe. I can’t.
The music fades. Applause swells.
“She’s incredible,” Beau murmurs.
My throat tightens. “Yeah.” I send the video to Mom, knowing she’ll love it, swallowing past the knot in my throat. I wish she could be here to see Celeste.
Later, Beau and I camp out in the hallway, waiting for my sister. The air has a musty quality to it, and the fluorescent lights are flickering. He bought me a vending machine coffee when he noticed my energy dwindling. But it’s sitting next to me, losing heat while I rest my head on his shoulder.
“My mom used to do the eggs,” I say, mouth gaping in a yawn.
His body shifts under my head, and he strokes my hair with a slow and steady motion. It sends a shiver through me. The good kind that makes my insides melty.
“Smiley faces. On toast. My mom used to do that for me before games.” I shrug. “Now I do them for Celeste. Guess the torch gets passed, whether you want it or not.”
