Twelve Steps to Normal(64)

That’s when the lights go completely dark, startling me. Scene change. It must be. We both move to get off the desk at the same time, but I stumble. He quickly grabs my shoulder to stabilize me. The warmth of his hand penetrates through the sleeve of my shirt.

He doesn’t let go.

Not immediately.

Alex’s touch isn’t the VOOSH of raw energy I felt with Jay. It’s stronger. His contact is a gravitational pull, tilting my universe off axis. My skin is made of stars, and I am spinning, spinning, spinning through space.

“Are you okay?” he says, reeling me back to reality. I’m dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with the darkness. “I should have warned you.” He lets go, and it takes everything in me not to protest. “I have to move these real quick.”

I watch as his silhouette positions new props on stage. All I can do is stand there, trying to figure out what just happened.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I already know.

Alex disappears from the main stage just as the light filters back on. He’s smiling, adjusting the back of his beanie as he heads toward me.

“Try not to look so impressed. Those things can’t move themselves.”

I laugh, but it comes out strangely. My throat is dry, and I’ve suddenly lost the ability to string together an intelligible sentence.

He scratches his neck. “I won’t make you stay. You probably have better things to do.”

The thing is, I don’t.

I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

“No,” I tell him. “I want to stay.”

It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark, but I swear I catch him smile.

That’s when I know.

Oh god.

I like Alex.





TWENTY FOUR


TODAY IS HOMECOMING, BUT INSTEAD of meeting my friends in homeroom I’ve been sitting in my car for the last several minutes. Groups of freshmen snap selfies outside of the gym while flaunting their mums like badges of honor. Red-and-white ribbons billow in the breeze and entangle their legs as they parade through the double doors.

My freshman mum from Jay is still hanging in my closet. I remember when he gave it to me, and how most of the ribbons were wrinkled and glue-gun spiderwebs hung from the fake petals of the mum. Even the lettering of my name was crooked. I knew it was a haphazard disaster, but I was so enamored with him that I didn’t care.

Jay had walked me the long way to my English class that day, specifically maneuvering past the gym so the basketball guys could see us together. When I sat down at my desk, Alex was looking at me like he was trying not to laugh.

“What?” I’d snapped.

He was eyeing my droopy mum. I’d spotted Lacey in the hall earlier. It was easy to tell he’d put some effort into hers.

“Nothing,” he’d said. “He walks with you like you’re some show dog.”

I rolled my eyes and brushed it off, telling myself he was jealous. But once we were at Breck’s house party after winning the game that night, I couldn’t help feeling like I was his Wavette accessory—that I could have been easily replaced by another girl on my team.

Maybe this is what happens when you fall out of love with someone. You begin to realize all the times you were let down. All the times you brushed something aside because your heart was too preoccupied by the what-ifs and what-could-bes. That maybe you should have listened to the nagging part of your brain when it said you could do better.

I run my hands over my steering wheel. I don’t want to go inside and watch as Whitney’s treated mediocrely by someone who’d rather flirt with some college girl who spends Saturday nights bringing beer to a high school party. There was one point in time where Whitney and I valued each other’s honesty, but I know that’s changed. If I brought it up, she’d think I was jealous. I don’t want another fight—especially since I’m still walking on unstable ground with her.

I’m putting my keys back in the ignition right as a truck pulls up beside me. I immediately recognize the deep-green paint job and the rusting bumper.

Alex.

Nervous energy tingles in my fingertips. I spent another hour with him backstage yesterday after they finished the first act, and in between scene changes we studied for our Algebra II test. We’d spread out on the dirty theater floor, reading our notes beneath the glow of our cell phone lights. Whenever he leaned over to compare answers, delicate prickles of energy would explode like tiny fireworks in my brain.

He’s the only part of my twelve-steps list that I haven’t actively worked on. But if I don’t confront him about the text, I’ll never know.

Before I even consider what I’m doing, I walk around to the driver’s side and tap on the glass.

As Alex lowers his window, I notice he’s wearing his typical attire: a black long-sleeve shirt with a green DEEP FLAME PRODUCTIONS T-shirt over it. His black beanie sits atop his head, and his mop of dark curls appear springier than usual as they peer out underneath.

He grins at me. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Do you want to skip with me today?” I blurt.

He looks surprised. “Sure,” he says without question. “Hop in.”

My insides flood with relief. I walk around and climb in the passenger’s side. As soon as my door closes, Alex puts the car in Drive and we flee from the parking lot, away from all the gilded mums and past memories that hang over my head like heavy clouds on the verge of a thunderstorm.