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Evan
I regret my words instantly, but I couldn’t help the frustration that bubbled under my skin. How could he shrug off something so powerful? His features are painted with genuine shock at what I said, which eases my emotions from frustration to fear.
I’m sure he’s going to ask me about it. He will ask why or how. But nothing inside me wants to tell him the truth about finding that song the day my mother walked out on our family months after my first surgery, about listening to it over and over with my knees tucked tight as possible trying to wrap up my heart.
Jordan doesn’t ask me about it, though. He puts his thumb under my chin and tilts my head until he can lean down easily and kiss me. My senses are overcome with the sound of the words, the feel of music, the soft clean smell of spice and cologne, the taste of his lips and softness of his tongue. He pulls back too soon, and my brain fuzzes like static. He kisses the tip of my nose, saying, “I’m glad.” But I’ve forgotten what we were talking about, even though I can still feel the seriousness weighing me down. I feel like I’m falling, so I wrap my arms around his waist and he holds me to him, chin resting on my head, until the song is over.
For one brief moment in time, I let myself believe in fate. I let myself believe he was given to me for a reason, and this is all meant to be.
11:10 PM
I hunch my shoulders as the night air swirls around us and stings my skin like whips. It’s not colder here than back home, but it’s the moisture in the air and I wish I’d brought a coat.
Jordan’s friend Rick is sucking face with some girl next to me, so I move to the curb and sit on the cold concrete. After two days in a hospital bed, all this standing around is starting to wear me down. Nat follows, and we huddle together while Jordan talks to someone on his phone.
“This is not what I expected when I scalped those tickets, EJ.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. I don’t say anything, but I make an agreeing “huh” sound while adjusting the beanie I took from Jordan on my head so it covers my ears. He runs his hand through his thick hair as if he isn’t used to being hat-less.
“When does your mom get back?” Nat scrolls through the texts on her phone. “It’s ten after eleven.”
“I’m guessing eleven thirty. She said the ballet was done at eleven so with traffic and stuff, I dunno.” I shrug as a chill runs through my shoulders, and I press my hand against my chest.
“So what do we do?” Nat asks.
“I don’t know.”
“But I told Aaron I’d call after the concert.” Her eyebrows pull low (which is an odd reaction) and she dials a number, holding up a finger. “Sorry, just a sec.”
She jumps up, leaving me alone on the curb. I hear her say hello then tune out to watch an ant crawl across the top of my shoe in a zigzag pattern. His movements are frantic, and I nudge him back to the ground where he is obviously more comfortable. It reminds me of the few months after Mom left, where I would wander the huge house alone, feeling disoriented. The paths I had walked all cut off by the memories of her. I would go to the bathroom to put on her bathrobe, but it was gone. I’d open the top left pantry cupboard to get the chocolate cookies that she hid from Dad, but there was nothing there. I’d sit on the concrete floor of the garage in the center of the stall where her car should have been in.
It took me a long time to make new paths. It took a lot of slammed doors and stomped steps. A lot of tears. A lot of nights gazing through the telescope and cursing the sky. A lot of blame. A lot of hatred. There still is. I still hate her more often than not, but hate mixed with loneliness really is an awful combination. I would give anything to get rid of one of them. I can handle hating her. I can handle missing her. Not both.
My shoulders tighten up, and I press against my knees to get rid of the tense memories, but my mother doesn’t go away.
Nat sits back down next to me with a thud, but there’s something different about her. The excitement from five minutes ago is all but gone.
“How’s Aaron?” I ask, and she shrugs.
“Fine. So, what’s the plan? How do we get past your mom?” She asks and my gut rolls. She’s definitely off.
“We should probably be at the hotel when she gets there. She’ll check on us...” I say slowly. Nat follows my gaze to Jordan who nods at us, still talking on the phone, leaning casually against the wall, and coloring a brick black with his pen. “But what do we do with these guys?”
“I am not missing the chance to hang out with Lemming Garden,” Nat states. “We’ll sneak him into the hotel room, then sneak out when your mom leaves. Rick looks like he’s doing fine distracting himself. I don’t think we need to worry about him.”
I rub my eyes with my fingers and catch the writing on my palm.
Nothing’s changed. That’s a lie. Everything's changed. Even Nat seems weird.
“I really shouldn’t be sneaking out. You know how much I sleep.”
“We’re sneaking out, Evan.” Nat’s eyes burn into me, and I don’t argue.
“Are you okay?” I ask slowly. I’ve been friends with her long enough to read her moods like the scrolling text at the bottom of the news channel Dad watches every morning.
Breaking news: Natalie Russo is pissed, but it’s not at you, Evan. We’ll update you on her condition as details become available.
“I’m fine. I just can’t miss this and neither can you. We will never get this chance again. We’ll leave, and Jordan will be a distant memory. We have to.”
My chest constricts when she mentions Jordan, and I’m driven by a desire to touch him. The idea of him only being a memory makes my stomach flip, even though that’s the deal. One night.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll sneak out.”
I walk over to Jordan, and without thinking, I put my arms around his waist under his shirt. My fingers slide over his skin, and he jumps, tensing, he narrows in on me with a quizzical expression while he’s still on the phone. The level of embarrassment that courses through me should be enough to drop my hands, but he’s warm, solid, and I like it. He’s comfortable. So I don’t move. I feel his muscles relax, and the one corner of his mouth twitches before he gets it under control. He throws his free arm around me and tucks me in tighter. I could totally get used to this. To him.
“Hey, man. I gotta go. Just meet us there, okay? Midnight.” Jordan hits end and puts his other arm around me. “You cold?”
I nod against his chest and slide my palms up his back until he breathes out heavily. “Was second base included in our love deal? I’m not sure I remember that part?”
I pull away quickly, but he keeps me hugged to his chest.
“I’m kidding, Evan. Really, I don’t mind. I really, really don’t mind at all.”
I rest my forehead on his chest. It’s weird to feel this way. It’s strange for me to not feel awkward and uncomfortable, even though I’m sort of embarrassed (and a little scared).
When I kissed Jeff last summer I couldn’t make myself move my hands; they stuck flat against his chest with my tense elbows tucked into my sides. His lips were dry, and he did this weird thing with his tongue. I couldn’t keep up at all. I had no idea what to do and spent more time wondering what he expected of me than enjoying my first real make-out session. Before I knew it, he had his hand under my shirt and cupped over my bra. His thumb was so close to my surgery scar that my fight or flight instinct kicked in. The tension in my elbows sprung free, and I shoved him as hard as I could. (I obviously chose fight). All I could do was stand there. I didn’t say sorry. I didn’t help him up. I didn’t get upset when he called me a bitch. I did nothing.
Jordan is different. I can’t stop my fingers from moving along his skin. From his shoulder blades to the waistband of his boxers I touch him, knowing this time tomorrow I’ll be fast asleep in my own bed. Back home. I’ll probably never see him again. Everything in me twists up at the thought.
He clears his throat and removes my hands from his body. “That feels way too good. My mind is wandering into un-gentleman-like territory,” he says, and I step back.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He goes back to coloring the brick, but the grin never leaves his face.
The silence that hangs between us isn’t weird at all, but it’s long and I want it to end.
“Who were you talking to?” I ask as Jordan finishes coloring the brick in. It’s completely black except for the word everything showing through in the raw brick color. I lean next to it. Everything made of nothing—a hollow word. I wonder how his mind works like this, and I make a point to remember to ask him.
“My brother. He’s going to meet us at the diner.”
“Oh, cool. What diner?”
“It’s called Angela’s All Night Diner. Not a very original name but seriously amazing stacks. It’s not too far from here. I thought we’d walk?”
“Sure, but we have to go back to my hotel for a bit. My mom will be checking on us...” I fade out because it sounds so childish. I’ve never snuck out before.
Mostly because my dad developed eagle-like senses when I got sick. He can hear me roll over in bed from three rooms away or sense my movements before I even make them. But Mom’s preoccupied, only concerned with her own happenings. That doesn’t mean she won’t at least call the room when she gets back.
“That’s fine. We’ll meet you there, then?” Jordan stuffs his hands in his pockets, and it officially gets awkward. Nat is fiercely stabbing at her cell phone from her spot on the curb, indicating she’s past irritated and we have a new headline...
This just in: Nat is now past pissed and into hurricane-rage mode. Use caution as her condition may worsen without warning. Stay safe out there, Evan.
I know by the murderous texting that it’s definitely Aaron she’s mad at and I feel better (but also a little guilty that I like it when she’s mad at him). I then look over to Rick, who is seconds away from taking down that girl right here on the sidewalk. I wrinkle my nose, and Jordan touches the end of it. He seems to like my nose for some reason, but now is not the time to analyze my facial features for why he would, or would not, find them attractive.
“Well...you can come with us? Hide on the balcony if my mom comes in the room, which she probably won’t.” I point over shoulder to Rick. “Unless you want to continue to be subjected to that.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you. I probably shouldn’t leave your side. In case you get the urge to give another massage, I want to make sure I’m around.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I’m glad we're back to being light.
“Maybe that’s why I’ve never been in love.” I spin Jordan around by his hips and push him, sliding my hands up his shirt again. As we move forward I dig my thumbs into his lower back, slowly making little circles outward.
“Huh?” He tries to look over his shoulder, but I keep him moving forward.
“If being in love means having someone follow you around everywhere and do everything with you all the time, that’s probably why I’ve never been,” I say and then call after Nat that we’re leaving. She gets up and follows us but doesn’t lift her head from her phone.
Jordan flips around and walks backward, lacing his fingers with mine. “I think you’re missing the point.”
“Which would be what?” I ask, letting him pull me right up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, careful not to tangle our moving legs.
“Being in love with someone means you want them to be around. If you don’t want them around and they won’t leave? I believe that’s called stalking...”
“Get a room,” Nat grumbles, now caught up to us, and I let go of Jordan. He turns to face forward, giving me a questioning eyebrow raise.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask again. “You pissed at Aaron?”
Nat moves her thick waves from her face, ripping her fingers through it. “We’re fine. Really. There’s nothing wrong.”
Her smile is so fake I think even Jordan can tell, but I’m also starting to hope that it’s not because of me. The first few months she dated Aaron she completely fell off the face of the earth. Even when she was right in front of me, she was either talking about Aaron or thinking about him.
I step over to her and loop my arm through hers, ignoring how she tenses at my closeness. I gently tug on her to slow her down. She knows I don’t move fast and she’ll never storm around like this. Must be serious.
“I need you to corroborate my story,” I say to my friend, and Jordan chuckles on my other side.
“Such a great word.”
Nat leans forward. “You really are obsessed with words.”
“Only the good ones.” His phone rings, and he fishes it out of his pocket. “It’s Rick.”
He slows down a pace or two, and I turn back to Nat. “Are you sure you're sure you’re okay?”
She shrugs as a cold breeze blows my hair across my face, making it hard to see.
“I can ditch Jordan, Nat. I don’t mind. It’s stupid... what we’re doing...” I let my voice falter because even as I say it I feel his skin on my fingertips, his lips on my lips, and I’m not ready for that to be over. But for Nat, I’d walk away.
“It’s not stupid,” she says a little more forcefully than I think she means to. She sucks her lip into her mouth. “It’s romantic. I’m jealous, is all.”
My eyebrows shadow my vision they get so low. “You don’t get jealous.”
“I miss Aaron. It’s been three and a half months since I saw him last. I sometimes can’t handle the distance.” Her voice wobbles, which completely throws me off. Nat doesn’t wobble either. Not any part of her has ever wobbled. “We fight more when he’s gone.”
“It’s a few more weeks, Nattie.” I rub her back. “He’ll be home for summer.”
She puts her head on my shoulder, and I feel bad for her. The defeated slump of her posture and emotional exhaustion creasing her face is so foreign. It’s the same look Dad had for months after Mom left, barely dragging himself to work each day. The only thing he did with any sort of determination was take care of me—dutifully getting up at seven thirty in the morning to force his angry adolescent daughter to take medication, plan my meals, ground me if I didn’t do my yoga every day until he found it easier to do it with me, and call my cell or wake me up at nine-thirty to remind me to take my meds again. Day in, day out, that’s what a broken heart does. It trudges along.
“I know. It’s hard, though. We have another year of being apart.”
I stop Nat from walking and face her, but she keeps her head down. “It’s almost summer; don’t worry about next year yet. You have all next year to worry.” I say and she smiles, but it’s not convincing enough. I shake her shoulders. “It’ll happen. We’ll graduate. You’ll go to his college and get smart, get married, have babies, buy a house, and do all those things you want to do. Then you’ll tell your kids how your time apart made you stronger. Solid.” I say it like I mean it. I really want to mean it.
There’s doubt in her eyes, but more than that, there’s pity—all the things I can’t plan on doing because there’s no point yet.
“Don’t make this about me, Natalie.” It’s as stern a tone I can conjure. “You’re allowed to plan your life.”
Nat steps back, and we both suck in big breaths to snap the tension. We’ve never gotten this close to actually talking about my potential lack of future. Like, for real talking about it. At the exact right moment, Jordan throws an arm around each of our shoulders.
“Things feel like they got really serious really fast over here.”
“Nat misses her boyfriend. He’s away at college.”
“Well, my services as a pretend boyfriend are second to none.” Jordan winks at Nat, and she ducks out from under his arm. I slap his stomach, and he makes an ‘oof’ sound. “What? Oh, I’m a monogamous fake boyfriend? Gotcha.”
Nat is almost back to normal-Nat when Jordan uncaps his pen and takes her by the hand, tugging her to a lamp post. He tilts his whole upper body so he’s writing vertically on the thick green post that holds up the orange light above. When he steps back, Nat wraps her arms around her stomach, and her shoulders scrunch up to her ears. I move closer and angle my head so I can read Jordan’s words as they curve up the metal.
Even on the darkest night, the stars around us burn.
“That’s sweet.” I pat Nat’s shoulder as she gets her phone and takes a picture of the words. I twist and start walking again, the hotel now in sight. No more than three steps and Nat speaks.
“He slept with someone else.”
I freeze mid-step and so does Jordan. I’m curious about her words but too scared to turn around and face her.
“What?” I glance over my shoulder. She’s focused on the lamp post as if she’s been ordered to kill it if it moves. “Aaron. He had sex with someone else.”
This time I spin so fast I get dizzy. “Natalie!”
Her eyes are glossy, and I wrack my brain to remember the last time she cried. My first seizure? No. Well, yes. She cried, but that wasn’t the last time. Her Nana’s funeral. Yeah, that’s it. Over a year ago.
“He said he couldn’t help it. That because I wanted to wait—”
Jordan scoffs a loud disgusted noise.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “This isn’t my business, but that’s bullshit. He couldn’t help it?” He puts up his hands and steps away. “I’m done. Sorry. Backing up now.” He turns and disappears into the darkness outside the street light’s reach, leaving me and all my stunned emotions to sort themselves out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I struggle to keep the irritation from my voice.
"I couldn't." She wraps her arms tighter around herself.
"What do you mean you couldn't? When did this happen?" My own arms cross as we face off in the flood of orange light. Nat shrugs, angling her expressive eyes down.
"When?"
"New Year’s." Her voice is so small, but the words topple me.
"New Year’s?" I squeak as I talk, but I'm not as shocked as I sound. Right after we went back to school after Christmas Break was the last time I fought with Nat. She called me a Scrooge, complete Nat-level meltdown, all because I made some tiny comment about something I can't even recall anymore. That's how unimportant it was.
"He went to that party... the one my parents wouldn't let me go to because it was all graduates."
A couple nights before she freaked on me.
"He told me right away. He was more upset than I was..."
"I can't believe you didn't say anything."
“It’s not like you don’t have enough to deal with,” Nat says.
“That’s not why you didn’t tell me.” I know it’s not. “You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d say I told you so.”
Nat’s features are shadowed with distinct anger, or maybe resentment, but mixed in her tormented eyes there’s something else. She’s begging me to figure it out so she doesn’t have to say it. But as my frown gets deeper so does my confusion.
“This isn’t only about New Year’s, is it?” The words release her from whatever enclosure she had trapped herself in, and tears begin to spill down her face. “What else happened, Natalie?”
My heart is working too hard to process my anger, and the sound of it mixing with Nat’s sobs is creating a storm inside my head. My first thought is that I’ll kill him. I’ll fly to Denver right now and crush him, but I’m still not sure what he did that seems to be more horrible than cheating.
I hug Nat on the cold street as her tears soak my sweater. “Hey, let’s get back to the hotel, and we’ll talk there okay?” I guide her alongside me, unable to think of the last time, or any time, I've been the one picking up the pieces of Nat. Theatrics are her thing, so I’m used to drama, but this is real. Something has hurt her, and I feel like it happened in the last half hour. No. I know it happened in the last half hour.
Jordan's standing in the hotel lobby, wholeheartedly uncomfortable with his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. I step away from Nat and to him.
“I should probably go, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, I need to talk to her alone.”
“Fair enough,” he says, lightly threading his fingers through my hair. There’s an awkward air of uncertainty between us as he scans my face. “Are you still meeting up for midnight breakfast?”
I look over my shoulder at Nat who’s tapping away on her phone and shrug. “I don’t know, Jordan—”
He slides his fingers further into my hair, his mouth is on mine, and the words dissolve from my tongue. It’s a kiss to end all kisses, or that’s what it feels like in this moment.
“In case you don’t make it.”
He uncaps his pen and takes my wrist.
“I’m almost out of skin for you to write on, you know.” I tease him, but silence falls over me. He runs his gaze down my body and lets my arm drop from his grip.
“I doubt that.” He leans forward again and kisses the tip of my nose before turning. “I really hope this isn’t goodbye, Evan.”
He’s gone before I examine my wrist expecting words, and my heart stutters when I read a number.
Me too, I think.
11:30 PM
Nat flops face first onto her hotel bed, and I sit next to her, crossing my legs beneath me. We sit in silence as the clock on the little wooden nightstand between our beds ticks away the minutes.
The last time we sat like this, we were fifteen, and it was the other way around. My eyes were puffy and sore and hers concerned.
“You want to go show me some stuff on your telescope?” Nat said gingerly after the silence became like black hole, sucking all the happiness out of the world, slowing down time and memories only to crush them into nothingness. I shook my head, fresh tears forming.
“She’ll come back, Evan,” Nat said, but there was zero conviction in her voice. The bed bounced as she shifted uncomfortably next to me. I shook my head again.
“No she won’t, Nattie.” I was full-out sobbing again. “She took everything. She’s gone.”
She took everything, except me. I cried for her. I cried for her like she had died. I cried for her like I’d never cried for anything.
Nat sat next to me and braided my hair over and over until I was completely empty, until she gutted me of all my strength, and all I could do was stare at a small tear in the knee of Natalie’s jeans.
“She took everything,” I whispered.
11:40 PM
I don’t say anything to Nat until eleven forty. “This all kind of came out of nowhere.”
How fitting that sentence is for our whole day.
Nat rolls onto her back, staring at me with red rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry, Evan. I was going to tell you, but I knew you’d give me the look.”
“What look?” I feel my nose scrunch up.
“That look.” She pokes my cheek.
“You don’t deserve to be cheated on, Natalie. I’ll always have that look.”
She sighs and rolls over again. “I know. He was really upset. He cried, Evan. He sobbed and bought me flowers and called me every five minutes. I had a thousand apology texts. He showed up at my house. We talked and I forgave him. He said he wouldn’t do it again.”
I purse my lips, but she starts to cry again.
“I called him tonight,” she says through hiccups. “And a girl answered.”
“What about his roommate? Does his roommate have a girlfriend?”
“Aaron lives alone, Evan.”
“Oh...” I cast my eyes down and pick at the deep crimson comforter on the bed.
“Yeah... oh. And who answers someone else’s cell phone anyway? I wouldn’t even answer your phone unless you knew I was going to, and you’ve been my best friend forever.”
Her phone beeps, but Nat doesn't move to answer it. It flashes face up on the bed between us.
"That's him?" I ask, even though his name is displayed across the screen. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." She flips over the phone. “This can't be same girl as Christmas. She answered his phone, EJ... That’s like trust or something. You think he loves her?” I get the feeling she’s more upset he could love someone other than her than the fact that he had sex with another girl. "What if over Christmas he cheated on both of us?"
"Nattie..." My voice is a near whisper. I never thought of that.
"Tell me what to do, Evan."
I know what she should do, but I don't have the guts to tell her.
“Nattie...” I say again but can’t bear to finish my thought. Jordan’s words come tumbling back to me.
Sex and love.
Connections.
Nat wipes the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “I feel so stupid,” she says, and I take her hand, my eyes catching the little ring around her finger.
“You’re not stupid.” It’s all I can think of to say, but I can’t focus on anything beyond the ring. "You're in love."
Natalie scoffs and yanks the ring from her finger. "Same thing, right?"
Just then there's a knock at the door and I get up to answer it.
Mom's smile quickly falls from her face as she enters our room. Her black dress is tight across her fit body in a way that says, “I’m trying to hide the fact that I’m a mom by overdoing everything” (I guess the beef-cake boyfriend was her personal trainer... still is her personal trainer? Anyway, yeah. That cliché happened).
Mom practically waddles in her high heels. My ankles hurt at the thought of walking in them. She never used to be this way. She wore jeans and sweaters and knelt in sandboxes, dug in gardens, laid with me in the grass on starry summer nights. My heart aches for those memories.
Mom's hand goes to her chest when she sees Nat, and her gold bracelets jangle together. He buys them for her. One thin band for every year they’ve been together... If those were Dad’s bracelets, both of her arms would be so full she couldn’t bend them. High school sweethearts to mid-life divorcees. I wonder if that will be Nat and Aaron. God, I hope she gets out.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Mom’s voice goes sickly sweet, and I have to clasp my arms to keep them from shaking.
“She’s fine, Mom,” I say sharply, putting myself between her and Nat. “She’s fighting with Aaron. She’ll get over it.”
Mom opens her mouth (to give me crap about my attitude probably) when Nat's phone rings again. She springs up from the bed and hurries into the bathroom. Mom and I jump at the sound of the slamming door. Nat’s voice is shrill and high and the paper-thin walls of the hotel almost amplify the sound rather than muffle it.
"Listen to yourself, Aaron," she shrieks. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I'm going to buy that bullshit story? Who is she really? I know she's not the same girl...Yes really...Here's a question for ya, stud. How many girlfriends do you have?” Nat growls loudly, and it crescendos into a frustrated scream. “I'm done Aaron. We’re done. You don't get to say sorry anymore.”
The room goes silent, and Mom and I both shift uncomfortably. We both act like we didn't hear anything when Nat comes out with a big fake smile on her face.
"Natalie, are you okay?" Mom asks. Her face contorts for half a second before she gathers herself. She doesn't want our night to be done yet either, but I see she's torn. I am too—split into little wedge shaped pie pieces of varying sizes representing various desires like a chart.
One piece says stay and be with Nat. She is three years deep into this relationship, and that's a lot of climbing for one person to do alone. Single Nat was a lifetime ago.
Another piece says I have my whole life to comfort Nat, and I'm not ready to leave Jordan.
Yet another piece clearly states that going for midnight breakfast with our favorite band is plain dumb to miss.
But the biggest piece of all knows that I will gladly do whatever she needs me to do, like she has always done for me. I will sit and braid her hair while she cries if that’s what she needs.
Nat holds Mom’s gaze and moves toward her, throwing her arms around Mom's neck. "Thanks, I'll be okay, but I want to veg and watch a ton of stupid movies that make me hate love."
Mom pats Nat's head and hugs her back. "I understand, dear. The first love is hard to get over."
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I press my palm even harder to the incision under my collarbone. It's supposed to have some sensor in it that picks up when my heart changes, but my anger moves faster than machinery, faster than sound or light.
I clutch my sweater in my fist, but Mom doesn't see me as I fight down a scream clawing its way straight from my lungs.
Liar! Dad was your first love! I want to yell it, but I draw in a calculated breath all the way from my diaphragm like my yoga instructor taught me.
Mom pats Nat's cheek before pulling my stiff body in for a hug. She kisses my forehead and turns to waddle in her tiny skirt out of the room.
"Not too much later girls, ‘kay? We have an early morning." Mom pauses at the doorway, lingering for a moment and catching my eye.
As soon as the door shuts, I rush to Nat and wrap her in a hug. She rests her head on my shoulder, and her body feels heavy and tired.
"We can just watch movies, Nattie." I rub her back and she snaps.
"And miss our chance to hang out with Lemming Garden? Fat chance. Aaron doesn't get to win this time. I'm not ditching a once-in-a-lifetime moment for him. I won't." Nat settles her face into the determination I've only ever seen on her Nana Rosie. I confessed things to Nana Rosie I swore I wouldn't tell a soul all because she shot me one terrifying glare. “Cheating bastard isn’t stealing this from me...” Nat continues in Spanish.
"Are you sure?" I ask, but the smile is already finding its way to my lips. Nat squeezes me into a hug again.
"I'm sure. Tonight we live in a bubble. You and Jordan, me and the drummer... or the brass player? Maybe Hector?" She winks even though there's sadness in her eyes. "Next weekend we will have a pity party for me, complete with Zac Efron, ice cream, and a pound of cookie dough."
"Your secret love of High School Musical is embarrassing, Nattie. It’s not even cool anymore...like, at all.”
She flips me off, and I laugh.
“Only if you're sure. Jordan doesn't matter."
She lightly slaps my cheek. "You're so funny. Of course he matters. It's okay to let it happen. Stop trying to keep everyone out." She hoists her suitcase onto the bed and rummages through it.
"So they can break my heart?" I point to her leather coat I know she's searching for.
Nat wipes her fingers under her eyes to smooth her makeup and I hate that she doesn't get red and puffy like I do.
"No one can break your heart, silly."
"Right. 'Cause it's already broken..."
Nat takes her makeup bag out next and heads to the bathroom, pausing at the door. “You know, EJ? All things considered, Jordan wouldn’t be such a bad guy to get your heart broken by...” She frowns and taps her fingernail against the doorframe before disappearing inside.