by Erin Hahn
Hey, if you’re going to evacuate us under threat of imminent death, the least you can do is be lax about when we return to our lunches.
Luke is standing with Zack and a few of the basketball guys in the middle of a grove of evergreens. He doesn’t see me, and I don’t try to catch his eye. Instead, he’s intent on Lindsay, and he looks … bothered. The thing is, Sunday night was … amazing. The slow dancing, the hand holding, the giddy smiling. All of it. And then the song happened. And then it really, really happened when person after person shared the link …
“Don’t tell her that,” Cate is saying, still referring to Lindsay and the prom date that wasn’t. “I saw her at the Nordstrom’s at Briarwood a few weeks back.” Cate stabs at her chili fries with a spork while sharing Laura’s log. Some meat sauce drips on her Converse, and she brushes it off in the grass.
“I feel the need to remind you all that it’s March,” Ahmed says blandly, his fingers clicking across his phone screen.
Cate flicks her long, sandy layers over her shoulder and throws a glare at him. “You can’t just buy a gown last minute, not if you don’t want the same one every other girl is wearing.”
Heather agrees. “I’m planning to check out Grand Rapids next weekend.”
Jesus. Not that I’ve ever gone or ever planned to go, but still. Last year, instead of the junior prom, my mom took Meg and me to see Judah & the Lion in Detroit. They were fabulous.
“What about you, Vada?” Laura asks politely. That about sums up my friendship with these guys. Polite. Vaguely interested.
I shake my head. “I don’t have a date.”
“Well, it’s still early. You can get the dress now and worry about a date later,” Cate says.
“Easy for you to say,” Heather says. “You’ve had a permanent date since sophomore year. I don’t want to end up like Lindsay with an expensive dress and no one to see it.”
“It was a breakup,” Ahmed says. “Not the end of the world.”
“Correction. A breakup followed by a very public, very viral, grand gesture about another girl.”
“Brutal,” Ja’kai agrees.
“You guys make it sound like Luke meant for the song to go viral,” I say, working hard to keep the defensiveness from my voice. The internet is weird. It only takes the right pair of eyes—or, in this case, ears—at the right moment, and your life blows up. “I don’t think he had any idea Cullen would post it.” Not with the way he spoke about his rejection of his dad’s plans for a career in performing. No way.
“Did you even listen to it? I mean, that shit was definitely intentional,” Laura says. “It had to be a setup. Isn’t their dad like extra famous in England?”
“He was. But Luke doesn’t want anything to do with that.”
Heather narrows her eyes at me, and I fiddle with the pages of Les Mis, deliberately not glancing in the direction of Luke and his friends. “How do you know?”
I shrug, trying to look disinterested, but I doubt I pull it off. I suck at pretense. “We work together. He told me. It’s not his thing.”
“Sure sounded like it was his thing.”
I shrug again. Not that I would admit it—I’m mortified at how little self-control I have when it comes to Luke—but I’ve probably listened to his song at least a hundred times. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, featuring the purest and most beautiful vocals from the throat of the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.
It’s a holy trifecta of hot mess, and I can’t be held accountable.
“Did you see what happened last night? Fucking Buzzfeed ran some article of the ‘Most Romantic Gestures in Teen Rom-Coms,’ and to finish it off with a real-life clip, they linked to the podcast. It’s not going anywhere,” Ja’Kai says.
Oh God. Now I feel even worse. No wonder Luke looks so … well, objectively still good, but not like good good. He looks stunned, honestly.
Heather whistles low. “No wonder Lindsay’s upset. She lives for that kind of thing.” I feel my lips pucker in a grimace, but it can’t be helped. Lindsay is upset? How selfish is she? Did she not know him at all?
“Isn’t that why they split up?” I can’t help but point out. “Didn’t she try to Instagram their first kiss or something bananas like that?” She’s the wooooooorst.
Ja’Kai snickers, dipping a handful of fries into ketchup. “Bet she wishes she’d held off on that.”
I shudder. “That’s super weird. So invasive.”
“Says the chick with the big-time music blog,” says Laura.
Oh, here we go.
“Yeah, but I don’t post anything personal about the bands. I only critique what they put out there either in a public venue or an approved recording.”
“I guess. But you still depend on the faceless masses to make your name famous.”
“That’s sort of the point of a review, though. Not to make my name famous but to share my opinion with the faceless masses.”
Ahmed raises an eyebrow.
“Hey, Vada.” Luke is walking toward us, trailed by Zack. I haven’t technically spoken to him since the Song. I mean, we’ve texted, obviously, but I don’t work Mondays or Tuesdays at the club now that I’m managing the Sunday shift. More to the point, I haven’t seen him since we danced and I … haven’t mentioned it. Neither of us have. I don’t know how this all works. My fingers are itching to call Meg and beg her to tell me the protocol for when you finally hold hands with your crush and then his love song about Who Knows Who goes viral and all you really want to know is was it about me?
Please, God, let it have been about me.
But also, holy shit what if it was about me?!
Ja’Kai unintentionally helps me out, giving one of those guy nods and a “Hey, Luke, Zack.”
Luke’s smile is dimmer than usual, but his gaze finds mine, and I can’t help but match it, my heart giving a tiny jolt at the sight of him. He’s wearing an old-man cardigan over his white, fitted V-neck. His hair is all mussed up and tossing in the wind, and he raises a hand to attempt to smooth it out of the way of his glasses. “I didn’t know you were still out here,” he says.
“I should head back in, actually,” I say. “I left my lunch at the table.”
“Hey, Luke! Great song!” Heather says, and if she were closer, I’d kick her.
He looks away from me. “Thanks.”
“Last I checked, it was up to ten thousand hits! That’s amazing, bro,” Ja’Kai says.
“Yeah,” Luke says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I saw that.”
“Actually, I saw it,” Zack interjects lightly. “I’ve appointed myself as Luke’s social media analyst. Vada, how’s it going?”
“I didn’t fake die today, so there’s that.”
“Me neither,” he says. “Thanks to this guy.” He ruffles Luke’s hair. “Saved by a bin of protractors. Did you know they’re the ninja stars of the geometry wing?”
“I was thinking boomerangs.”
Zack raises his brow and exchanges glances with Luke, who tries to look busy.
“Nice ring, Carsewell.”
I don’t bother to look. I haven’t taken the mood ring off since Luke gave it to me. “Thanks.”
“What’s dark blue mean, I wonder?”
Luke interjects. “Hey, d’you need to get your lunch before next period?”
“Yeah. I should go.” My stomach growls again.
“We can walk you. We have lunch next.”
Laura and Ahmed start gathering up their things, and Laura asks, “Do you mind if we walk with you?”
They follow Zack, and Luke lingers for a minute. Something silent passes between them, and Zack nods slightly, leading the group in as if they were there for him. Amazingly, they follow like little ducks all in a row.
I shake my head, and Luke laughs under his breath. “Yeah. I call it the Zack Effect. People can’t help but follow him. It’s the height, I think.
“Or something. He’s … comforting.”
&nbs
p; Luke agrees. “Yeah. Totally. My mum says he’s like a walking hug.” He looks at me. “How’s The Miserables?” he asks, nodding at my paperback.
“Terrible. Utterly devastating and depressing on every page.”
His face lifts. “It really needs Anne Hathaway to make it palatable.”
“Indeed. Though her solo made me ugly cry in the theater.”
“Cullen dragged me along, and I could barely sleep afterward. The part with the little revolutionary?”
“Oh yeah. I guess it’s to be expected. It’s not like they tricked us. They didn’t call it The Happiest or anything like that.”
“Not like The Lovely Bones. That was misleading, eh?”
“I never read or saw it,” I admit. “Not about anything lovely, I suppose?”
He shudders. “Not even close. I had nightmares for a month after seeing that movie on TV.” We’re at the doors, and he pulls one open, allowing me through first. We take the back stairs up to the cafeteria, and when we get to the top, I see Lindsay watching us. Luke notices and looks uncomfortable.
I want to say something that will make him feel better, but I don’t know what. I decide on honesty.
“I listened to your song.”
He freezes.
“Like, a lot of times.” I make a face. “A lot. God,” I say, hiding my face in my hands. “This is embarrassing, but…”
He looks green. I hesitate, but I’ve gone this far.
“It’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard, Luke. Countless eye-closers, okay? But I know it’s not what you wanted. The ‘prick’ I know couldn’t possibly,” I say, reminding him of our conversation way back when this all started. He’d called himself a “prick” for wasting his talent … but I don’t agree. He’s not wasting it. He’s saving it. “It’s not okay what Cullen did, and I’m sorry he violated your privacy. I can’t even imagine. And I know it’s causing you all sorts of grief, and I’m sorry for that, too.”
His face is unreadable, and I feel mine grow boiling hot, and I’m feeling a bit sick now. “And … I am rambling and sound like a crazed superfan, so I’m going to shut up, and if you could just forget the last like hundred seconds—”
His hand covers my mouth, and he shakes his head.
“It was an enormous violation, and I’m still reeling over it, but I’m also very glad you liked it. That helps. I admire your taste and consider you a friend”—he clears his throat—“and so just shut up with your self-conscious prattling.” My lips grin against his skin, and I have to stop myself from kissing his palm.
Which is, like, weird, right? Why would I do that? What is happening?
“Prattling?” I ask, my attention snagging on the realization he just called me a friend.
His lips quirk. “Yeah. Prattling. I hate that everyone else heard my song. But I hate it less that you have.”
“Oh.” Oh. “Well. Good.” I think.
“Besides, I watched you dance that day in class. The one where you didn’t know I was there? And while we haven’t talked about it, it felt … like more than dance. Anyway, my point is, we’re even. Okay?”
I’m a little stunned. Because he’s right. It was more than dance that day, and I didn’t mean for anyone to see it. “Guess it’s all out there now, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Hey! I have an idea! We should partner up and do an embarrassing and revealing performance for a live audience!”
Luke chuckles, low. “I love it. Let’s do that.”
“Done,” I agree, feeling shy, but I try for a reassuring smile as I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
He nods once. “Right. So, that’s the bell.”
“My lunch!” I say, and I move past him. “I’m sorry; I need to save my mom’s Tupperware.”
“See you at work!” he says.
I wave a hand over my shoulder and keep walking, but I definitely feel Lindsay Turton’s eyes shooting lasers at me as I go.
Your loss.
* * *
It’s a rowdy Thirsty Thursday at the Loud Lizard, and Meg is perched on a stool at the end of the bar, chatting it up with Ben and sipping on a lemonade like it’s her job. Dozens of coeds mill around the small tabletops, most with significant tabs, and my glittery best friend has the best seat in the house. Anyone else might think she’s smitten, but I know better. Meg and Ben are like brother and sister, growing up on the youth group circuit together. They even play in a band together. Not the bluegrass band that requires a beard to participate but a church band.
In fact, I’ve never seen Meg interested in anyone in that way. More like she’s interested in everyone in a more eternal kind of way. She’s the most joyful and generous person I’ve ever known, and people are attracted to her like flies on syrup, but she doesn’t do crushes. At least, not yet. One day, someone with those faux pointed ears will waltz into her life and make her head spin.
Tonight, however, the door opens and Cullen walks in, carrying the weight of the world and the smell of impending spring. He sees me and makes a beeline. “Is my brother here?”
I tip my head to the side, taking in his entirety. Cullen’s more flustered looking than I’ve ever seen him. His black hair is windswept, but not in an artful way, and he’s wearing gym shoes. Like running shoes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cullen Greenly in anything athletic. Behind him, Zack follows. In contrast, he appears … patient.
“Vada,” Zack says.
“Social Media Manager Zack. You’ve been busy,” I respond back. “And no,” I say to Cullen. “He’s not on the schedule tonight.”
Meg flutters over as I pull out two mugs. “Sit down,” I say. “Coffee? Or juice? Maybe ginger ale? Nothing fancy, though.”
“Coffee, please,” Zack says, and he settles on a stool. Cullen sits next to him and runs his hands through his hair. I pour them both a steaming cup. Zack dives in.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Cullen groans.
I raise my brows to his boyfriend, who sighs heavily and explains. “Have you been online lately? It’s Luke.”
Meg pulls out her phone. “Gosh, I adore Luke,” she gushes. “He’s the sweetest, and his song is the literal best I’ve ever heard.” She looks up at us wide-eyed. “Am I allowed to say that?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s out now. Besides, you don’t love him because of his song; you were already a fan because he feeds your Shirley Temple addiction.”
Meg lifts a dainty shoulder. “Guilty as charged.” She scrolls on her phone, her eyes widening. “Holy…” she mutters.
“Exactly,” Cullen says. “Lionel Best retweeted ‘Break for You’ to his billion followers. RIP, me.”
“RIP, Luke, you mean,” I say, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “Why didn’t you guys take it down days ago?”
Cullen moans dramatically, and Zack rubs his shoulder. “Because,” Cullen says, “I’m a fucking prat who cares more about numbers than my family.”
“In your defense,” Zack says, “you didn’t really understand how adamant he was about his privacy.”
“I don’t know how,” I say. “I’ve only been hanging out with Luke a short time and know how much he hates attention. You’ve known him literally since the womb.” Cullen looks hurt, but he should have known better. Of all people, he should have known better.
“I just wanted the girl, whoever she is, to know how he felt!”
Well. My heart thuds at that.
“It’s not about anyone!” a voice says behind me, and I jump. Luke.
Cullen’s head jerks up, and he looks admittedly terrible. I almost feel bad for him, but I feel worse for Luke.
“What part of that don’t you get?” Luke says, exasperated, shoving his blond hair from his eyes. He’s holding his board and still wearing his leather jacket, so I don’t think he’s been there long. “It was only a song. It’s not about anyone. It was never meant to be heard. It’s none of your business!”
Everyone is quiet.
&n
bsp; “Anyway,” Luke continues. “I was just dropping something off for Phil. Glad to see everyone got the latest update. Thanks again for cluing me in to my life, Cull.” With that, he slams the half door to the bar, and with barely a glance at me, he leaves.
Meg settles next to Cullen, rubbing small circles into his back, and Zack is clicking around on his phone, probably trying to get Luke to come back.
I take care of a few customers, a pit in my stomach. Luke’s words stabbing in my brain. It was only a song. It’s not about anyone.
It was never meant to be heard.
Except he was supposed to be writing a song for someone. Me. For the spring showcase. Which we haven’t mentioned at all since the Song was released. I’m dying to know if “Break for You” was meant for me. Every time I wonder, it seems ridiculous and presumptuous. Even in the safety of my head. We held hands, once. That’s all.
It was never meant to be heard.
Even by me? Of course even by me. It’s what he said, wasn’t it?
21
LUKE
Cullen went through this phase when we were like twelve where he lived for those Worst-Case Scenario / Would You Rather games. Like, “If you were stranded on a desert island and you hadn’t eaten in three days, and you were millimeters from death, would you rather eat a pound of squirming centipedes or a single raw squid tentacle that is still twitching?”
Neither option is great, but when the hypothetical alternative is death, you choose the one that makes you feel like puking the least. (Death, obviously. I never said I was brave.)
I feel like I’m living the live-action version of Worst-Case Scenario, titled “Absolute Worst-Case Scenario for Very Private and Introverted Luke Greenly Where There Is No Winner and Also He Will Always Lose.”
After five years, you finally start songwriting again and bam! Your first effort is found out by your brother.
Then your brother posts it on your podcast. On the internet. Which is easily accessible by the majority of the planet.
And then a major website picks up the now-viral hit!
And a major celebrity decides it’s his favorite and retweets it to a zillion people.