Page 25 of Puck My Life

“I can’t.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“You have girlfriends and a life, and I’m just floating in your shadow. I want more. I don’t want to be eating on the porch because we only have four chairs.”

“I’ll buy you another chair!” I shout.

She flinches.

Flinches from me.

I feel like the worst kind of asshole.

“Vae, I would never hurt you.”

She smiles, and this time, it’s without artifice. “I know that.”

Does she, though?

“I need to get to my gig.”

She turns around, facing the sink. I approach slowly, unsure if it’s still okay for me to do this. I embrace her from behind, and she leans into me. The relief I feel as she relaxes into me is a balm to all the confused feelings churning inside me.

“I will bring you something nice.”

“Good luck today. I’ll be cheering you on.”

On impulse, I kiss her neck and then panic because why did I do that? And why did it feel so good? I step back, breaking contact.

My head’s all messed up, that’s why I’m thinking ridiculous thoughts like ‘hold on’ and ‘never let her go’ and ‘why I want to lick the flavour of her skin off my lips.’

“You’ll be here tonight?”

“I’ll be here,” she says, and her voice sounds strangled. “Until you get home.”

Shit, get out of here.

I take the coward’s way out and bail.

When I arrive at the wedding, I go up and play, but I’m distracted, and it shows. The music that I can normally get lost in doesn’t hold any appeal for me. All I hear is Vae’s determined words as she tries to stay happy, and, with distance, I can reflect on it and hear the strain in her voice.

Why?

None of it makes any sense whatsoever.

I focus on the music, forcing myself to do what I’m good at. Forcing myself to find my groove and push the confusing puzzle of Vae out of my mind.

Vae

PAST

I wake up to the sound of coughing and scramble out of my bed, rushing down the hall and shoving open their bedrooms. I’m not allowed in here. Maria made the new rule last year, she said since we’re teens now, it’s not right. But they need me. To hell with the rules.

Raynor is curled up without a blanket on, covered in sweat. I touch his head. He’s clammy and doesn’t wake to my touch.

“No, Raynor? Oh, please, you have to be okay.”

He moans and turns his head to the side. Red flags on his cheeks, but the rest of him is pale white.