Fucking hell, Alex.
“Uh, y-yeah. So, um, thanks for your help. I should go now,” I stammer, forcing the words out as I take a step backward.
“Okay, yeah. I should head back anyway. My parents are waiting for me. Um, tell Alex I said hi? I hope he’s doing okay.”
There’s concern in her voice, and I can’t help looking up at her. She seems shy suddenly, and she tucks one of her long braids back behind her ear, her expression some combination of soft and kind that almost reminds me of Alex’s mom.
I must look confused, however, because she just sort of shakes her head and then says, “He was feeling a little off on Thursday, maybe? I dunno. I just worry, you know? He’s a good friend.”
“I finally told Jenna that I just want to be friends...”
I blink back whatever emotions are jumping around in my chest as I remember Alex’s words from Thursday—words I was too off-balance to have processed when he said them that night. My heart does something weird, its rhythm stumbling around the wrong way.
Just because he’s not interested in a relationship with her doesn’t mean heisinterested in something from me.
But my heart sure as hell wants to think it does.
I force a small smile and nod. “Yeah, he’s fine,” I say. Then I clear my throat and try for a little more, overcome by some need to reassure her. “He’s doing well. He’s excited about this weekend. I’ll be sure to tell him you said hi.”
“Good, thank you.” Jenna gives me another of those soft smiles, and her eyes linger on me for a few more seconds, like she’s studying me again. Then she sort of laughs and drops her eyes. “I’ll see you around, Nico. Have fun at the party without me.” She glances back up at me through her long lashes, grinning in a silly way this time.
I manage to actually smile for real, or at least in a way that doesn’t feel quite so forced. “I’ll be hiding in Alex’s room, probably. Too many people,” I say with an exaggerated grimace that quickly morphs back into a smile when she giggles and nods.
“Yeah, fair enough.” She tips her head back the way we came a few minutes ago. “I gotta go.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She turns and leaves, and I take a few long breaths, surprised to find that I’m maybe, actually sort of okay. My heart is still beating unsteadily, and I have to consciously unclench my jaw. But that sense of panic, the need to retreat, the simmering anger that always comes along with my anxiety—they all aren’t quite as bad as usual.
I take one more careful breath, and then I jog around to the driver’s side of my car, hop in, and get on my way back to Alex’s house. I have no doubt Iwillbe hiding out in his bedroom for most of the day, especially because I’m suddenly tired on top of everything else.
But something inside me feels almost a little stronger or braver or maybe a little bigger.
Because I survived. Not just this conversation with Jenna, but this whole week.
It’s not much. But for a brief moment, I feel maybe a little less fucked-up and broken than I usually do. And that’s something I haven’t felt in a really long time.
Chapter Twenty
Alex
“Astrophysics,huh?Soyou’regoing to be, what, a rocket scientist or something?” Blaire—my . . . mom’s uncle’s stepson? I think?—takes a swig of his beer and then leans back in his chair at the outside table. We just all finished eating dinner, and the conversation around the table remains lively, as it’s been all day.
Several other people sitting around us stop talking and turn to look at me, like they’re also interested in my answer. The woman sitting on the other side of Blaire—whose name might be Wanda, I can’t really remember—swats at his shoulder.
“No, remember? Laina told us it’s like that Neil-what’s-his-name guy—the guy who does those TV shows you used to watch with Damian. Studying the universe and stuff.” Maybe-Wanda turns to me with a smile. “Right, honey?”
“Uh, yeah. Right. Um, it’s mostly studying the physics of the universe—how the universe started, what stars are made of, black holes, gravity, dark matter.” I might have lost most of them as soon as I mentioned dark matter, but I keep talking for a bit. It’s helping me stay distracted anyway, and I love talking about this stuff.
One of my cousins—Pierre—actually just started working on his PhD in some physics-related field, and he joins in the conversation when I mention a research paper I read describinghow gravity affects space-time. We get into a fun back-and-forth, and I’m just about to counter something he says about a theory on antigravitons when my mom’s hand sets on my shoulder. I twist and glance up at her.
“Come help me clean up?” she asks, her eyes happy but tired.
I nod and smile, then excuse myself from the group and follow her inside. The house is a mess. Stacks of pots and pans fill the sink, and the trash can overflows with paper plates and plastic cups. The furniture is all wonky, too, and there’s a toddler asleep on the couch, her iPad still playing some kid’s TV show with the volume set low.
My aunt Tammy, who drove in this afternoon from Kansas, is in the kitchen putting away some of the leftovers, and she lights up when she sees me.
“Alexander Hayes, my how you’ve grown,” she says, opening her arms for a hug. “It’s been too long, kiddo.”
