Page 42 of Burn Bright

Lily is his mom’s younger sister. Basically because of the three Calloway sisters, there are three famous families.

The Cobalts.

The Meadows.

The Hales.

Fans choose allegiances to different families like they’re sports teams.

The Cobalts are the intellects, the ones to revere for their aptitude and prowess. They’re the gods among royalty.

The Meadows are the adventurers, the ones who climb mountains and race down highways on motorcycles. They’re more likely to be caught camping at a national park than fine-dining at a Michelin-star restaurant.

The Hales are the pop culture geeks, the ones who love superheroes enough to own a comic book publishing company and a comic-themed coffee shop. Plus, they’re behind a mega corporation that makes baby products.Hale Co.It’s generational wealth.

Ben has it too.

And beyond the surface-level stuff, Lily Calloway is notorious for being a recovering sex addict, and her husband is a recovering alcoholic. They go in depth about their lives on an Emmy award-winning docuseries that’s been running off and on for decades. I’ve never tuned in, but I do know most of Ben’s family have made appearances on the show. Because of the Hales’ relatability and candidness about their struggles with addiction, they’re the most popular in the media, maybe even the most beloved, but also the most criticized.

I never showed my love to a family online by posting memes or putting “adopted Cobalt daughter” in my bio. But I did wonder what life would be like if the Hales opened their door and let me live with them. They’d be the ones most likely to bring me into their fold since they’re known for taking in misfits and broken toys.

The Cobalts are theopposite.They’re renowned for slamming the gilded gates on anyone who doesn’t bleed Cobalt blue.

There are far less Hales than there are Cobalts too, so it seemed more reasonable in my imagination to be a Hale. There was room for me in a family of six, but it’s not like I wanted to ditch my parents for the Hales. I was just picturing myself in the lineup.

It’d be Maximoff, Luna, Xander,Harriet, and then Kinney. A complete and utter fantasy.

If I were shrewder, maybe I would’ve tried to be Luna’s best friend at Penn and not just her lab partner. I had anin, but it felt gross to use that relationship to gain entry into a family. That’sherfamily.

Not mine.

It was always supposed to be just a fantasy. One that made me feel better when only-child syndrome struck harder.

I look to Ben beside me. I do really like this reality where I’m friends with a Cobalt (specifically,thisCobalt). It feels just as unbelievable in a way, but I want to embrace it fully and not construct more defensive walls.

“Why’d your uncle name you Ben?” I ask him in a frown, trying to figure out a connection. Are there Marvel superheroes named Ben? I don’t read comics, but I’ve seen enough of the movies and remember an Uncle Ben from Spider-Man.

He angles his body more toward me, no longer facing forward in the direction of the girl’s unsubtle selfies. “My uncle is big into Star Wars,” he explains. “I’m named after Obi-Wan Kenobi, who went by the name ‘Ben’ when he was in hiding on Tatooine. Personally, I think there was a missed opportunity to name me Anakin. That would’ve been badass.”

I roll my eyes. He’s such a guy. “Be glad he didn’t go with Jabba the Hutt.”

Ben laughs. “I’d like to think my mom would have vetoed that one.” His voice is almost drowned out by a sudden hum of loud whispering. The volume escalates across the entire room, and both Ben and I swing our heads for the source.

It takes less than a second to spot the disruption.

Even with red headphones around his neck, a black hoodie drawn up over his head, it’s impossible to not recognize Xander Hale. When he shrugs off the hoodie like he’s suddenly overheated from the thick fabric, the audible feminine gasps and squeals reverberate and echo in the auditorium.Especiallyas his T-shirt sticks to the hoodie and rises a little too high on his chest, revealing his carved abs before he quickly tugs the black tee down.

A girl is close to hyperventilating. I hope her friend tells her to take some deeper breaths or she actually might pass out.

It’s not a total overreaction either.

The allure of Xander Hale is real. He has tousled brown hair, a sharp jawline, and a slender build with defined muscles in his biceps—notably different than years ago when girls in my high school used to call him Jack Skellington chic. But it’s his arresting, amber-colored eyes that completely disarm onlookers. I’m not sure I’m immune. I weirdly feel almost oxygen-deprived by his beauty.

Everyone who’s arrived early has rotated in their chairs to watch him, film him on their phones, entrench his image in their memories.

I don’t think anything of it until I realize he’s frozen on a stair ten rows below us. He peers over his shoulder and speaks under his breath to the tattooed guy behind him.His bodyguard.Paul Donnelly.

Last semester, I ran into Xander and Donnelly on occasion when Xander was visiting his sister Luna at Penn. I don’t know what feels more unreal—the few months I was circling the Halesin Philly or the present situation in New York where I’m friends with Ben Cobalt.