Page 27

Fireworks

Mia

I should be happy.

I just finished a successful tour. It’s summer in Chicago, my favorite time of the year. It’s the Fourth of July. Fireworks are already streaking over the dusty blue sky as the sun sets. I’m at Mom and Dad’s. I’m at Mom and Dad’s with Austin.

I’m with Austin.

My boyfriend.

I should be happy.

But as I stand around the kitchen island with my family, I can’t help but feel like every smile I’ve worn today has been forced.

Austin is laughing at something my mom said as she refills their wine. She goes to refill mine before realizing I haven’t touched the last glass she poured. She keeps her smile, but I don’t miss the questioning glance in her eyes as she tilts her head marginally.

I tap my temple, pretending my head hurts while giving her the most reassuring smile I can muster.

My eyes flick to the staircase next.

My father is up those stairs, and he isn’t alone. I have a feeling he isn’t in his study like he said he’d be. He told us he just wanted to send one email real quick before he forgot, and then we’d go watch fireworks on the lake.

But he’s been gone for a while now.

So has Aleks.

Being in this house with him again has been disorienting, like trying to find my way through a reoccurring dream. It’s familiar, but warped. It’s comforting, and yet scary, too.

Everything seemed fine when we were on the boat today. We all laughed and drank and ate and swam. But Aleks never sat next to me. We never got a moment alone. And I couldn’t help but feel like he held some sort of animosity toward Austin, which wasn’t fair, considering this was his first time meeting him.

He was distant. He was in his head.

He was having one of those days.

The bad days.

And the more he drank, the more my stomach hurt.

I stay lost in my thoughts until Dad comes down the stairs. Glancing toward Mom and Austin and seeing they were still lost in conversation, I sneak over to meet Dad on the bottom step.

He lets out a heavy sigh when I look up at him, eyes filled with questions I don’t have the guts to ask. He places a hand on my shoulder, kisses my hair, and tells me not to worry.

But he’s hiding something behind his back.

Something that rattles a bit as he walks away from me and into his bedroom. He emerges a moment later with both hands free, offering me a sad smile before he rejoins Mom and Austin in the kitchen.

My eyes flick up to the second story again.

It’s time to go watch fireworks. Austin tells me as much with a warm, lazy kiss to my cheek.

I should be happy.

I tell him and my parents to go on without me. I fake that I have an upset stomach, that I just need to use the restroom and I’ll be right out. Austin doesn’t ask another question. I’m pretty sure he’s still under the illusion that girls don’t poop. Mom asks if I need anything with a worried bend of her brows, but I assure her I’m fine.

Dad holds my gaze before they go, some sort of warning in his eyes.

I ignore it.

As soon as they’re gone, I tiptoe up the stairs, but I don’t go right. Going right would take me to my bedroom.

I go left.

To his.

Two soft knocks on the door announce my presence. That door is cracked, and when I push it open a few inches, I see the room is pitch black. It’s silent, too. But it smells like him, like mint and ice.

“Aleks?”

I slip inside, shutting the door behind me and letting my eyes adjust. There’s a flash of red from a firework bursting over the lake, and it illuminates a slumped form in the corner of the room.

Aleks is sitting on the floor, his back against the built-in bookshelf that still hosts a number of his trophies from high school. He has one leg extended in front of him, the other bent, his arm balanced on that knee with a can of beer hanging loosely from his fingertips. His eyes are fixed on that can, unmoving.

He looks like shit.

The more my eyes adjust, the more I see it — his pale skin, the purple under his eyes, the slouch in his shoulders. This isn’t my cocky, annoying best friend.

This is his dark twin, the one that always lives inside him, the one he’s always running from.

I used to assure him this part of him didn’t exist, but eventually, I realized the truth. Now, I just try to remind him this isn’t him — not really.

I’m not sure he believes me.

Wordlessly, I drop down to the floor next to him, my back against the shelves, shoulder brushing his triceps. I extend my legs, my feet only coming to the middle of his calf.

Aleks circles the can in his hand a bit, the liquid inside it making a swishing sound. “Your dad send you up here?”

“No. Why would he?”

He laughs at that, shaking his head before draining the rest of his beer. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he just found me in here with a handful of pills.”

He crushes the can and tosses it next to his foot.

He crushes my ribcage with those words, too.

“Aleks…”

“Save your breath, Strings,” he says, dragging his hands back over his short hair. “Your dad already lectured me.”

“It’s not lecturing,” I defend. “It’s because he loves you. We all do.”

Aleks lets his head fall back against the shelf, turning slowly until he’s facing me. His eyes are glazed. “You love me, huh?”

My stomach does a dramatic dip, like I just went over the first big hump of a rollercoaster and now I’m plummeting toward the earth.

“Yes,” I breathe.

His eyes float between mine, back and forth, like he’s trying to read deeper into that answer. He knows I mean it. I love him — like family.

But can he see the reason that word was so faint when it left my lips?

Can he feel that I may love him in a different way, too?

Aleks swallows, his Adam’s apple jutting up and down in his throat. “What about Austin?” he asks, his voice gruff. “You love him?”

“I think so.”

His nostrils flare, but he says nothing. He turns toward the window as the fireworks begin to pop off one after the other. Each spark of color lights up our lawn, and my eyes stick on where I spot Austin with my parents near the dock.

I should be down there with him.

I should be happy.

“Come on,” I say, standing. I hold my hand down toward Aleks. “Let’s go watch the fireworks.”

He stares at my hand. He doesn’t move.

He feels so distant.

I want to cry.

“You’re worried about me,” Aleks says. And then, like that possibility breaks him, he shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not your parents,” I tell him. “This part of you… I know it feels powerful sometimes. I know, some days, it’s dark. But this isn’t you.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“I am.”

Aleks stares at my feet for a long time before his eyes crawl up to meet mine. “I’ll be okay,” he promises. The smile he gives me is forced, just like mine has been all day. “You should go. I’m sure Austin wants to kiss you under the fireworks, or whatever perfect boyfriends do.”

“Come with me,” I try.

At that, he laughs a little, gaze floating to the window.

“Can’t, Strings,” he croaks. “I just… can’t. Not tonight.”

I want him to talk to me. I also know that he won’t — not right now. If he wanted to talk, he would have started as soon as I walked through his door.

He’s in one of those moods where he just wants to shut the world away.

I know better than to push him.

I know what he needs right now, even if I hate giving it to him.

I nod, biting my tongue and all the words I want to say. I lean down and kiss his cheek quickly before I dart out the door, swiping a tear from my jaw. I take a moment in my bathroom to get myself together, then I make my way down to the lake.

Austin pulls me under his arm when I arrive, greeting me with a beaming smile and a kiss that should make me melt. I should be laughing with him and my parents. I should be feeling electricity tingle down my spine as he whispers what he wants to do to me when the night is done.

I should be happy.

But the boy upstairs isn’t.

And I realize then that no amount of time or distance can ever untangle me from him.