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My head is a twisting tropical storm. It writhes perfectly to match the pounding of the summer sun high in the sky, radiating down with a fury that sweats through the back of my shirt. In a herculean effort to thwart the anxiety that has been gnawing at my skin for days, I am on a run around the woods.
I regret ignoring the heat warning. My lungs burn as they gasp for air thick with humidity. It’s hot enough that my vision swims, and the trees melt like Dali’s clocks, oozing around the path. I make it another block before I stumble to a stop. My heart is pounding dangerously fast, but I still feel my anxiety sitting just under my skin. It crouches in wait like a yellow-eyed panther.
I turn around and start walking home. Right as I round the corner, I feel my phone like an angry bumblebee in my pocket, buzzing with an incoming call.
“I closed your window,” Jude said by way of greeting. “You’re welcome.”
“What if I wanted it open?” Even through the phone, I can feel her roll her eyes. I try not to pant into the speaker.
“Alright, when Dad gets on your case about the AC, don’t blame me. Anyways, that’s not why I was calling.” In the background, someone laughs. Mom? Maybe, but I haven’t seen her even crack a grin around Dad for weeks. Besides, it was a lower voice. Dad? No way.
“...Why, then?” I say, trying hard to keep my voice from sounding whiny. Jude is touchy these days. Mostly I let her be. I have other things on my mind, like-
“Brian’s in your room,” she says casually, and my heart feels like I’m still running.
“What?”
“Brian? Connelly? Only your best friend?”
“Duh, Jude, I know who Brian is.” I’m speedwalking, almost galloping down the road. “Why is he-?”
“Dunno,” she says, and I swear she’s doing it on purpose. I hear another laugh, but this time I can picture its owner: eyes squinting, Bengal-tiger smile wide across his face. “When I went in to close your window, he was there. I figured you knew, but you were taking a long time, so…”
“Tell him to wait, okay? Tell him I’m almost back, I’ll be back in a moment, okay? Jude?”
“Mhm,” I hear as she hangs up.
I can’t help it—I start to run again, to the dismay of my aching lungs.
Brian is in my room. I am not. I should be in my room, I should be standing dead in the center of the carpet staring at him, inches away from him, standing in my room, the room where he is. I cannot get home fast enough. A part of me wants to slow down, like I could pretend not to care. He’s been in my room before, I say in my own head. Still, I’m rocketing home like it’s a magnet pulling me.
We’ve been hanging out every day, almost. There isn’t an inch of the woods we haven’t poured over in search of bugs or cool plants or, in Brian’s case, space junk. My knees will probably fall apart because of how much I’ve been crouched in the dirt, mind-painting the whole time. Sometimes he talks to me, about his school back home or his mom or the elaborate plans he has for his future. Sometimes I make him guess on animal facts, like what the fastest mammal is (the Mexican free-tailed bat!) or what bees smell like when they’re scared (banana, but the fake kind). Sometimes we just sit in silence until the sun fills the sky with rosy peaches and soft dusk purples.
I’ve never had a friend like this. I find myself repeating that in my head, over and over—I’ve never had a friend like this. What a good friend he is. How lucky am I. It almost convinces me that I don’t want to spend hours staring at him until I can paint those golden-hazel-copper eyes from memory. If I try hard enough, I can ignore the fact that he electrocutes me every time he brushes against me. Like whenever we’re alone, I can think properly, not just about whether the air I’m breathing in is the air he breathes out.
He’s my friend, I repeat, maybe even out loud. I turn onto my street, and my house stands out like neon signs are pointing to it. If I squint, I think I can see light spilling from my window. My heart is beating at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, so it’s possible I’ve already taken flight. Somehow I make it to the front door.
I float all the way in, through the entryway and then the hallway and then past Jude’s room. She is oozing navy blue from behind the door, bristling. Her and Mom have been at each others’ throats all summer, and I can almost smell it in the air.
It’s unimportant, though, because I can hear Brian humming through the open door of my room. I don’t run down the hallway, even though I want to. Instead I rap twice on the doorframe before stepping over the threshold.
He’s perched on the edge of my bed, and when he hears me, he rockets up.
“Hi,” I breathe. He fills my entire room—how did I never notice how small it is?
“Hey,” he says, and I start on fire without anyone noticing. “Your window was open.” Is it just me, or does he not know what to do with his hands? I, for one, have shoved mine deep into my pockets where they can’t fling me towards him or bury themselves in his hair.
No, I can’t think that, I say in my head. I’m sweaty and flushed, and if I’m not careful I’ll end up with an eight-foot dork.
“That’s cool,” I say with incredible smoothness and class. I lean against the wall very naturally. Very smoothly.
“You're still going to the arcade today, right?”
I stare. In fact, nothing past the walls of this room exists, because Brian is in front of me, so where could I possibly want to go?
“The arcade?”
“You know, Zephyr’s birthday? He invited everyone. Aren’t you going?”
I hope he doesn’t see me flinch at Zephyr’s name—old habits die hard, even though he hasn’t harassed me in weeks. Arcades are far, far out of my natural habitat of woods and museums. They’re loud and bright, and children with sticky fingers race around at knee level. Besides, when I’m around Zephyr and Heather and Courtney and everyone, I have to put on my people-mask. It makes everything garbled like I’m underwater, like my umbrella is utterly broken, only no one can see it if I’m careful.
Brian takes a step closer, and he’s fidgeting, but he looks right at me. “It would be cool if you were there,” he says, and his eyes don’t just look like sunlight, they are sunlight, melty and warm and seeping under my skin. I nod, because how could I not?
It’s the right thing to do. Brian’s face splits open like a supernova. I catch myself before I give in to the urge to brush my thumb against his jawline, and I shove my hands deeper into my pockets. Bite the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning too hard. He’s contagious.
“Then let's go, dude!” He doesn’t move, though, and I take a step forward without even realizing it. He’s still smiling and he’s so real, right there in front of me. Except I see something shift as I hold his gaze, something that looks like maybe he’s biting his cheek too. I can’t place it.
“I-” I clear my throat, shake my head like an etch-a-sketch. “I need to change,” I say, gesturing to my sweat-soaked t-shirt. He nods like a bobblehead but doesn’t move to look away.
My heart is pounding again and I don’t know why. I think possibly gravity has weakened—Brian would know, but I don’t think my mouth could form the words to ask him. Instead, I slowly turn my back to him and peel my shirt off over my head. My skin bristles like porcupine quills because I know he’s looking, I know it, and it’s going straight to my groin.
I can hear him breathing. I match it without meaning too—long slow exhales.
I linger a second longer than I need to before putting on a different shirt. Okay, maybe it’s my imagination, but I don’t think Brian minds. There’s a strange thrill in the room that I can’t explain. When I turn around, sure enough, he’s staring at me with an odd, choked expression, and his ears are the shade of mulberries. I take a step closer and he doesn’t move away.
For a long moment, we only stare at each other. We’ve created a void where only us two exist. His eyes are sunlit and creased with some anxiety I can’t name, but also a wild excitement bubbling underneath. I think I probably reflect it, but I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my heartbeat in my neck and in my head. Somehow we’re closer than we were before. Close enough to reach my hand out and touch him, but I don’t.
“You don’t have to worry,” he says, and at first I don’t even realize he’s speaking English.
“Okay,” I breathe, not quite knowing what he’s reassuring me of.
His words tumble out of his mouth like he’s flinging them out to see what sticks. “About the arcade. I’ll be there, anyway, and it’ll be fun. We can play the old car game they have. It was my favorite when I was little.” He’s rambling, but his eyes are still carving mine out of my head. He’s not talking about the arcade, a voice in my head whispers.
He’s barely half a foot away from me. “I’m not worried,” I respond, even though I definitely am.
“Good, because I’m not either.” He’s almost whispering. I wonder if his heart is pounding with the same ferocity as mine—it’s impossible, because I’d hear it. I’m almost certain that mine is trying to thunder its way out of my ribcage. It’s incessant, like a woodpecker against a tree.
“Did you know that woodpeckers have tongues that wrap around the backs of their brains to keep them from getting concussions?”
Now it’s his turn to be confused. He shakes his head slowly.
“It doesn’t work,” I say, like an automaton programmed to keep talking. “They almost all die of self-inflicted brain damage.”
He laughs, a startled sort of laugh, and reflexively reaches up to push my shoulder. His hand lingers, though, and where it touches my shirt, I feel warmth flooding me. It’s my turn to flush.
He doesn’t move for a moment.
The door opens. “You’re gonna be late-”
“Jude!” I yell, and when I glance back at Brian, somehow he’s already across the room.
What’s going on, Jude’s eyes say to me. I glare back at her—it’s not her fault, I know, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve been dropped off of a cliff.
“What do you need,” I ask, with only trace amounts of venom in my voice.
“The arcade? It’s already noon,” Jude says, and if I wasn’t falling off of a cliff, I might feel bad.
Brian smiles. “We were just about to leave.” I don’t know how Brian is so smooth and collected. I feel like a hive of bees. He’s polished, and his eyes are back to normal hazel-brown. “Want to head over with us?”
“No, she doesn’t,” I yell, but it’s only in my head. I manifest her saying no, but she doesn’t hear me.
Jude smiles—polished smooth as a mirror. “I’d love to.”
Mom drives us all over to the arcade. Jude sits in the front. I bombard her head with arrows, but only halfheartedly. Beside me, Brian is glued to the window, watching the lethargic suburbs pass. We pull up outside, and Mom warns us to be responsible. She hands us each ten bucks and waves us out of the car.
I stare up at the sky. Despite the heat, clouds have rolled in. They’re suffocating. It smells like thunder waiting to crash onto the horizon. All the colors are jumping around, brighter than they were before.
Brian stands next to me and matches my gaze. We are not touching, but I can feel him next to me like static electricity. “You coming?” he says finally.
I don’t respond because the clouds are sinking lower and lower, but when a raindrop hits the bridge of my nose, I square my shoulders and nod. I’m still buzzing with how close I am to Brian, so I’m not even intimidated by the double doors leading into the chaos of neon lights and loud music. We follow Jude inside.
Immediately, I can’t hear anything but the pounding of indistinct music and a chorus of children screaming in joy or fury, I can’t tell. My bones twist onto themselves. Next to me, Brian spots someone across the room. He grabs my arm and pulls me along with him. I must have been holding my breath because as soon as he touches me, my head swims for air.
The entire building is pulsing with a strange beat, an energy that I can’t tap into. There are flashing lights and moving pixels everywhere. The carpet is multicolor and, under black lights, glows faintly in the dark. Time probably doesn’t pass here. It’s like being underground—I don’t even know which way is up.
“Brian!” I hear Courtney squeal before I even see her. It’s impressive, as her blond hair catches the black lights and glows like a beacon. Her teeth are shining, too. “I was waiting for you,” she says, and her voice is thick like the cloyingly sweet arcade slushies.
“And here I am,” he replies. I catch myself scowling, and smooth my face before I get in trouble for looking at someone’s kid.
“Come on, we’re about to do laser tag!” she says as she grabs his wrist. He lets go of me, and I can’t help but feel like he’s traded us off for each other. I follow a few paces behind them. Courtney can’t seem to walk straight—she leans on Brian, then shoves him, then pulls at his arm. Brian lets her. I don’t want to think about why it makes me seethe to watch her hands run across his skin.
Heather is waiting for us as we approach the group. She is all long limbs and graceful lines in her jean shorts and striped tank top, and the way she looks out past her black curls gives her the air of a wise owl. “Hey, Noah,” she says. I smile at her, because it’s better than watching Courtney simper over Brian, and her face lights up. She takes a few steps to plant herself by my side. “Do you like laser tag?”
“I haven’t played in a long time,” I say honestly. She nods as she tucks hair behind her ears like she’s preparing for the match.
“My little cousin comes here every year for his birthday, so I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry, you can be on my team.” She reaches out like she’s about to touch my arm, but at the last second she swings her hand back down. I pretend not to notice.
A lanky man with pink bangs over his eyes comes out of the doors and starts handing out equipment. “Has everyone watched the video?” I haven’t, but no one else says anything, so I keep quiet. “Good. Then you know what to expect. Teams of ten, line up and I’ll get you inside.” His tongue piercing catches the light as he talks, sending sparks of green and electric blue dancing across his face. I think of angler fish and wonder who he’s trying to lure closer. It’s mesmerizing.
Heather hands me a vest lined in green. “Stick with me,” she says as she slips her own over her head. I catch Brian’s eye and he smiles, but there’s something locked up under his expression. He reaches for a green vest from the wall.
“No, wait!” Courtney’s voice is piercing and syrup-sweet. She grabs the vest from his hand and trades it for a red one. “Be on my team! You’re like, super fast. I bet your aim is great from baseball, too.”
“I was going with-” but before he can protest, she’s leading him over to the other group. I watch him. He said it was going to be fine, he said he’d be with me the whole time, and now he’s abandoning me. It’s not his fault, I know, but if he wanted to, he could rip off the vest. Tell Courtney no. Come back over here, and stand by my side.
He doesn’t, of course, because his umbrella is water-resistent and social interactions require sacrifices. I wish I could run out of the doors and all the way home, even in the pelting rain.
Instead, I turn towards Heather and steel myself as we proceed into the arena.
The walls are cushioned and striped with colorful bands. There are ample places to hide, and in the shifting strobe lights camouflage would be easy. I feel skittish like a prey animal, some rodent or lizard, aching to flee. I’m already scanning for a corner to spider myself into so I can wait out the game uneventfully. It reeks of feet and sugar, and the gun feels awkward in my hands. I glance back at Brian and wish with my entire body that he’ll look away from Courtney and back to me. Instead, I see Jude turn her head and catch my gaze. Her blue vest flashes as the game begins, but before she turns to run off into the dancing lights, she nods towards Brian. I look back.
He’s peeling himself away from Courtney and, turning his head towards me, disappears into the maze of obstacles. His red vest glints and then is gone.
I don’t hesitate. I leap after him. I feel bad for half a second about leaving Heather behind, but then I see a hint of red in front of me, and the chase is on.
There’s no chance I’m as fast as him—but somehow he’s always just in sight. He leads me deeper in. He must be doing it on purpose! A thrill runs through me, and I weave through the posts and half-walls, not even noticing the other players around me. I couldn’t find my way back to the door if I tried, after all the twists and turns he’s leading me through.
Up at the top of a deserted platform, he finally stops. I stay a handful of steps away. My laser gun hangs at my side, all but forgotten, and in front of me, Brian smiles.
“I’m sorry we’re on different teams.” He has to yell just to be heard over the blaring music and distant chaos of tag. “I said I’d stick with you, but…”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal,” I say without meaning it. In fact, I’m glowing with the apology—I didn’t think he cared. Somewhere behind me, a yell of defeat or perhaps triumph echoes. I scurry closer into the corner where Brian stands. I don’t want to be interrupted, now that we’re finally back together.
“Noah,” he says, and then something else that I can’t make out over the background. My confusion must show on my face, because he steps closer. He’s taller than me, just barely, and I’ve never felt it more than I do now. I’m almost against his chest, looking slightly up at his eyes, and he’s looking down at me with an expression I can’t read.
“What did you say?” I say, not loud enough. He can’t understand me. Still, he smiles.
I think my ribcage is going to splinter into hundreds of pieces as my heart careens out of my chest with the force that it’s pounding right now. Even with the echoing refrain in the back of my head (friend friend friend), all I can think about is the exact distance between his lips and my lips, about how it would just take one motion—forward and upward—for them to touch. He would taste warm, like clover and honey and rain. Maybe I’d run my hands through his hair. Maybe they’d find a place at the small of his back. Suddenly I’m aching with the need to feel his skin against mine.
His mouth is slightly open and his cheeks just might be flushed. It’s hard to tell in the scintillating lights, lasers flashing in the background. For a split second, maybe just a trick of the light, his eyes dart down to my mouth, and then back up. I die of happiness. My legs are like eels. It takes all of my strength to stand tall instead of leaning against him just to feel his heart beating.
It definitely wasn’t just my imagination—he’s leaning closer, almost imperceptibly. I tilt my head up, breathless with adrenaline and the thrill of seeing the individual pores on his face. In slow motion, Brian lifts his hand and just barely sets it against my arm, steadying himself. It’s a funny thing to do, considering I’m liable to collapse at any moment.
“Noah,” he says, and this time I hear him. He’s sweating, just a little, and he licks his lip nervously. Still, I swear the gleam in his eyes is excitement. Maybe it’s hopeful thinking.
I’m stone. I’m a statue, waiting to see what Brian will do. A part of me is screaming to make the last move, to press against him without wondering what will happen, but my bones solidify into concrete and I’m left to Brian’s whims.
I don’t even close my eyes as he lowers his lips to mine. His eyelashes splay against his cheeks and my fingers itch to paint them. I’m absolutely fucked—there’s no way I’ll ever see anything this beautiful for the rest of my life. This is it.
He barely brushes against my lips. The rest of our bodies don’t touch, except for where his hand is on my arm. My eyes are still open and I might just black out from lack of oxygen, because I stopped breathing ages ago. The entire world has quieted. I’ve been waiting for this for eternity. I swear, the universe is young in comparison. His lips are soft, electric, and I can’t stand it—I lean up, just a little, wanting to kiss him properly, firmly, to feel the realness of him. After all, I can’t be sure I’m not just dreaming.
And then there are footsteps and Brian is miles away. He might as well have teleported, that’s how fast he moves. I’m left like lightning in a bottle, about to burst because I can’t contain the thrill of whatever just happened. Still, somewhere in my brain, my self-preservation kicks in, and I wheel to look at whoever might have just seen us kissing—kissing!—in the corner.
I’m not ready for the sight. In front of me, just down the stairs to the secluded platform, is Jude. I stare at her. She can’t have seen me. Could she? It’s just like her to interrupt the best moment of my life. It’s not even her fault, but at this second my veins are surging with adrenaline and fear and exhilaration, and all I want is for her to go away, as far away as possible. Australia sounds nice.
She isn’t gaping at me, so I don’t think she saw what just happened, but still—she’s standing there, and Brian and I deer-in-headlights frozen, and she’s going to put it together in 3, 2, 1-
But no. She yells a war-cry and shoots us both in the chest, leaving our vests blinking in SOS patterns. Just as she turns and runs, though, she looks at me and I swear I see her wink. I’m spiraling to the flashing of my green vest. Can I even be sure I didn’t imagine the whole thing?
Brian. I spin to him, but he’s swiftly caging up his face. I don’t know how to peel back the barricades, so I just stand and watch him as he reloads his gun. Without another glance at me, he takes the steps two at a time. He’s gone before I can even call out his name. He wouldn’t hear me, anyways.
I sink to the ground. My vest has stopped blinking. Other than the shifting lights and the far-off sounds of lasers, I’m alone. It’s not a bad place to be. I think I’ll stay here, possibly forever, until my body has melded itself to the neon carpet.
Still, I can’t help but replay the moment in my head. Brian and I, barely even breathing, lips brushing almost too faintly to feel it. It was real. Right? It was real. I remember his eyelashes, his hand on my arm, the way he looked so desperately excited. It had to have been real. I don’t know if paint can capture it, but I sure as hell am going to try.
How can I keep existing after that? I don’t want to go back and see his smooth-polished-mirror face like nothing has changed. The earth has hurtled off its course, and we’re flying straight into the sun. I wait for impact.
“Noah?”
I resist the urge to crawl back further into the corner. Valiantly, I lean towards the edge of the platform. Heather. She blinks up at me with wide owl-eyes, and I know she’s been looking for me this whole time. I wish I was a bat so I could drop off of this ledge and soar away.
“Hi,” I say instead.
She motions for me to come down. “The game is over.”
“I know,” I say. I didn’t.
Heather plays with her hair as I join her on the ground, and she looks as disappointed as I feel. “We lost,” she says, and glances at my gun, where my whopping 0 SHOTS and 0 HITS are proudly displayed.
“I know.”
She turns back towards the doors, so I follow her, and a thunderclap of overwhelming guilt washes over me. It’s not her fault that I’m preoccupied and confused. Still, I can’t muster the energy to continue the pleasantries, so we walk in silence. I’m sorry, I say in my brain, and I know she doesn’t hear it. The AC blasts us as we pass through the doors, and her hair hits me in the face. She turns to me. Waiting.
“Thanks,” I mumble. It’s not what she’s looking for. She nods but doesn’t say anything as she peels away from me, back to her hornet nest. I’ve broken something, but I don’t know what. I turn the opposite direction and jump.
Jude.
“Where is he?” she says before I can even register her presence.
Alarm bells are ringing too loudly for me to even think, but no one around me can hear them. I wish I had a smoke bomb to throw at my feet so I could disappear like a magician. She can’t have seen. I think I’d wither on the spot—decompose or something equally dramatic.
“Did you talk to him?” She is looking at me with steely intensity. Not for the first time, I wish twins really were telepathic.
If Jude doesn’t know where Brian is… I twist around and scan the room, but I can’t pick out anyone’s face in the moving lights. The smell of sugar and sweat is knotting inside my stomach. Did he leave? He can’t have left, because we almost-kissed and I need to rewind time so we can do it again, except properly this time.
Instead of answering Jude, I sprint towards the exit of the arcade. I throw the doors open and stumble out into the rain.
There is no Brian in sight.
My heart is pounding with the same intensity as the rain splattering onto my shoulders and my head. Already, water is dripping down the bridge of my nose and falling into oblivion. I fall, too. Except without moving. I’m falling and standing and floating up into the sky, all at the same time.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket. Immediately rain creases the screen, but I don’t care, because Jude is calling me for the second time today.
“What,” I say into the speaker, trying not to yell.
Jude sighs. “I’m trying to do you a favor, okay? I asked Lulu and she said that Brian wasn’t feeling well, so Courtney called her mom and drove him home.”
He just… left? Without saying anything? Rain is soaking through my shoes, and my shirt, and overwhelmingly I just feel cold.
“Look, Noah-”
“It doesn’t matter!” I say, too loudly. Obviously it does, but all I know in this moment is that Jude holds something fragile in her hands, and I don’t trust her, not for a minute, to be careful. “He can leave, it’s not my business!”
“I was just trying to-”
“You don’t know anything!” I say. I’m horrified that it comes out almost in a sob. I repeat myself, quieter, trying to stay composed. “It doesn’t matter.”
The phone hangs up with a click.
I text Mom to come pick me up.
It doesn’t matter.
Besides, when I get home after a silent car ride with my very worried Mom, my phone lights up with a text from Brian:
Sick :( sorry for leaving tho. see you at courtneys party?
I want to say a billion things, but I stare numbly. I type out a reply and my thumb hovers over the send button for a millisecond too long.
Hope u feel better, we didn’t play that car game you mentioned
I send the message and throw my phone across the room. It sits on the floor—I match it, laying facedown on my bed.
He’s just sick, I tell myself, and it doesn’t help. My mind won’t stop replaying the memory of his lips and his eyelashes, the way he touched my arm like I was his anchor against the roiling sea of lights. It was so close to being something we couldn’t ignore. Now, he might as well be across the continent, even though he’s just across the street.
My phone dings again, and despite my best self-control, I leap across the room to read the message:
yeah :( next time?
Next time—my body floods with relief. He’s not angry at me, though I don’t know why he would be. He still wants to hang out. Besides, the thought of just him and me at the arcade, without everyone else to mess it all up, sends tingles down my spine. I can’t type yes fast enough. It sends, and he hearts the message immediately.
Was it worth it?
The question barely enters my mind before I know the answer: a resounding yes. I just hope it wasn’t the last time I’ll ever see his face so close to mine. Maybe he’s hoping the same thing.