SEVEN
THE SONG OF CONNECTION
ALEX
Sebastian’s humming drewme out of my room. At first, I thought I was imagining it. Sometimes, when I wrote a song about someone, I would hear their voice replay in my head, as if they were sitting right next to me. It wasn’t until I played the melody three times and the humming tried to keep up, always trailing a beat behind the piano, that I realized I wasn’t imagining anything.
The second I opened the door, Sebastian jumped back and bumped into the sideboard behind him. One of Laura’s precious dried flower arrangements tipped over. Luckily, the vase didn’t shatter when it hit the carpet, but the leaves and blossoms scattered across the floor.
“Shit,” Sebastian muttered, freezing like a deer in headlights. His quick breaths filled the air like crashing waves during a storm.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said, gripping the doorframe. “Are you okay?”
“Other than having to explain this mess to Mom? Yeah.” He picked up the vase, set it back on the sideboard, and reached for the scattered flowers. As soon as he touched them, they crumbled in his hands and broke into hundreds of tinyfragments. “Effing…” The next word dissolved into a frustrated groan that used all the strength of his voice. He gathered the leaves into a pile, as if they might magically fuse back together if he wished for it hard enough. “She’s going to kill me, right?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, crouching beside him. My hands brushed over the carpet as I pushed more brittle leaves into a second pile. “Just pretend you have no idea what happened.”
“It’s right outside my old room. Who else would she think did it?”
“We can throw your nephew under the bus,” I said on impulse, not entirely sure what had possessed me. “He’ll deny everything, which will only make him look more suspicious.”
That made him chuckle. “You’re a lot more cunning than you look.”
“They don’t say‘be gay, do crime’for nothing.”
We each scooped up one of the piles.
“Is there still a trash can in my…yourroom?”
“Yeah, but for our story to hold up, we have to hide the evidence in the room where your nephew’s sleeping,” I said, doubling down. This wasn’t like me—but it was surprisingly fun.
“You’re a menace, Alex.” His giggles made the air around him vibrate. “Which room is it?”
Since it was too late to back out, I led him to the guest bedroom at the end of the hallway. Only the faint light from my room guided our way.
The door was ajar, and I pushed it open with my hip. A foldout guest bed was crammed beside a queen-size bed. Two suitcases blocked the path to the trash can in the corner. I gently nudged the suitcases aside with my foot, just enough for us to squeeze through, and let the flower confetti slide into the bin. Sebastian followed suit, and once he had dumped his half as well, we put the suitcases back in their original positions.
“Hurry up,” Sebastian whispered as he rushed into the hallway.
Our stifled giggles echoed through the house as we bolted back to my room. My hand reached for the knob on instinct and pulled the door shut behind us, locking it as if we were actually in danger of being caught. My heart drummed to the beat of our insignificant mischief.
Laura loved those flower arrangementsbecauseshe knew they wouldn’t last forever. She once told me that she liked the reminder that everything ends—even the beautiful things—because it forces us to cherish them more. That was also why she would never get mad about something like this. But if pretending she would get angry made us feel this alive, then it was worth it.
My back slumped against the door. Sebastian stood beside my bed, his head tipped back, throat exposed. We were both panting.
“You’re good at taking my breath away,” Sebastian said, sticking out his tongue, his chest still rising and falling as if we had run a marathon.
“You’re one to talk,” I shot back, still catching my breath. “I wasn’t the one who knocked over the vase.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re complicit now.” His brows twitched, and his tongue hung out as he winked at me. “So… I guess the cat’s out of the bag?”
“What cat?”
“That I was eavesdropping while you were playing?” He glanced at the piano keyboard on the floor in front of him. “In my defense, it was absolutely beautiful.”
“I was just messing around.” I couldn’t tell him he had inspired the song I was working on. All afternoon, my attention had been pulled toward him as if he were magnetic. I had slipped away from the party more than once to secretly jot downmelodies and lyrics he sparked. Usually, I use an app on my phone, but when I came up here after our walk, I couldn’t resist sitting down at a real instrument.
“You can’t fool me,” Sebastian said, stretching his arms over his head. “You weren’t merely noodling around. I can hear the difference.” His gaze flicked from the keyboard back to me. “Mind if I listen a little longer?”
