Summer of Supernovas

by Darcy Woods

  “So what, that was some kind of punishment?”

  “And no less than what they deserved.”

  She’d get no argument from me. Still, I worry about the reckless way Irina often finds her justice. I worry what might’ve happened if Manny and Grant hadn’t been there to intervene. Most of all, I worry that none of these thoughts would ever occur to my friend.

  Manny jogs down the hall to meet us, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. “We made sure those dickwad crashers were escorted off the premises. So, how much you clear, hustler?”

  Irina shoots him a withering look and folds her arms.

  “Either you start talking, or I’m gonna belt out the worst rendition of ‘The Gambler’ you have ever heard. Ask Grant.” Manny thumbs to his friend as he joins us. “I’m serious as a heart attack. There’s a reason they don’t ask me to sing backup.” The dark mood begins to brighten. Because that’s what Manny does. Even Grant appears more controlled.

  Iri’s mouth twitches, her hard shell cracking. “Four hundred and change.”

  Manny whistles. “So, like, enough change to take me to Denny’s for some Moons Over My Hammy? I could dig some swine.”

  I sniff; Grant catches my eye and suddenly we’re sharing a private smile. A secret little your-friend-likes-my-friend smile. He shakes his head in further amazement while Manny employs his own brand of hustling involving a scrambled egg and pig rump sandwich.

  Irina peers down at Manny, a solid four-inch height differential. “You should know I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

  “And you should know I find that crazy hot,” Manny replies, undeterred.

  “You’re very odd.” Irina cocks her head and studies Manny like a bug she can’t decide whether or not she should squash.

  Seth arrives with Ryan and Ginger in tow. “Wil!” He wraps his arms around me. Hugging him back, I feel the concern in the rapid thumping of his heart.

  “Everything’s fine, Seth. We’re okay.”

  He lets go. “No, I should’ve been there, but I was trying to give you some space because of how I was earlier. And look, I’ve been thinking about what I said the other night….” Seth becomes aware of our small audience, and I become aware Grant’s disappeared like an apparition. “Can we maybe finish this in private?”

  Irina touches my shoulder. “I’m sorry, dorogaya, I know you want to stay longer. But I’m done here.”

  “Um, of course…yeah. We should go.” Disappointment crashes like a meteor at my feet.

  “No, take this.” Irina pushes fifty bucks into my hand. “Stay. That’s more than enough to cab it back to my place if you need to.”

  “Iri—”

  “Shh, shh.” She kisses both my cheeks. “No arguing. Have fun tonight. That was the point, remember?”

  “That wasn’t entirely the point.” And she knows it.

  “Well, then, it’s the new point.” She glances over my shoulder at Seth. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then talk to him and hash out whatever’s got him looking so damn pitiful. Smiling faces by night’s end. Hear me?”

  “Yes.” I hug her. “Thank you, Iri. And I’m sorry you had such a crappy time. Those guys were—”

  “Hey, it wasn’t a total waste.” She grins as we separate. “Least I cleared a nice chunk of change tonight.”

  I tilt my head. “Since when are you an optimist?”

  “Since my bra runneth over with cash. Manny”—Irina spins on her heel—“you’re coming with me. And so there’s no confusion, Denny’s is the only thing on the menu.”

  “¡Carajo! Really?”

  “Yes, really. All this talk of swine has whet my appetite.”

  Manny takes her hand and gallantly kisses it. “You won’t regret it.”

  Irina laughs. “I already do.” Slinging her arm over his shoulder, the most unlikely pair of the century take their leave.

  A loud and mournful sound echoes from outside. It pauses, then resumes its low, primitive hum.

  “Tristan’s battle horn.” Ryan gleefully rubs his palms together. “Means the game’s about to start.”

  “Well, c’mon!” Ginger tugs Ryan’s hand. “Labyrinth Marco Polo is my favorite.”

  “Oh, you just want to have your way with me in the foliage,” he teases.

  She giggles before turning back to us. “You guys are coming, too, aren’t you?”

  Seth waits for me to answer, nervously shuffling his feet. He wants us to be okay. So do I. The fact that he recognizes his earlier behavior was off-putting renews my faith in him, and by extension, in us.

  “Absolutely,” I say to Ginger.

  Seth beams at my response, clasping my hand and squeezing it. “Thanks for staying.”

  I grin. “It’s a gorgeous night and this party is unbelievable—Irina’s right, we should be having fun.”

  “Your good time will be my personal mission.” He kisses my temple. And you know? It doesn’t feel at all smothering. It’s…nice.

  The battle horn hums a second mournful call.

  Joining Ginger and Ryan, we head for a set of doors on the north end of the house, which is a shortcut to the gardens. Happiness unfurls inside me. This night is going to be salvaged after all. But as suddenly as my joy has blossomed, I feel it shrivel and blacken.

  Because I see them.

  Stabbing pains pierce my heart—it’s Grant and Lila. Together. Lila leads him by the hand into a dark room as we pass. Her silhouette begins kissing his neck as the door shuts. Seth is talking to Ryan, so he doesn’t see how my eyes instantly gloss with unshed tears.

  I blink, willing the moisture away, and gaze at where my hand joins Seth’s. This is what I choose, a partner molded and blessed by the heavens.

  I press a hand to my chest. Really, it’s a suitable punishment for my traitorous heart, this overpowering ache that ravages it, threatening to split it apart.

  But maybe this is what I needed—to see Grant in the arms of someone else—so once and for all, I’d be free of him.

  “Marco!” Tristan booms in his stage voice.

  “Polo!” Voices answer from all over the twisting gardens. The labyrinth’s high, sculpted hedges have nooks and crannies perfect for hiding.

  As I move deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, my green dress helps me fade into my surroundings; even the pain in my chest has miraculously faded. Bare feet thump over grass, scampering in all directions.

  Someone’s coming up fast behind me. I dive off the main path into one of the heavily shadowed nooks. The person passes. It wasn’t Tristan, who’s “it,” but I breathe a sigh of relief anyway as I step out from my hiding place.

  The large moon, bold in the cloudless sky, illuminates the crystalline beads of dew forming on the grass. Like everyone else, I’ve kicked off my heels, adding them to the shoe pile at the garden’s entrance.

  “Gotcha!” Tristan shouts, tackling someone one hedge over, grunting with the fall. “Ha, you’re it, Bree!” Tristan takes off from the newly tagged girl. The horn wails again, signaling the start of a new round. “Marco!” Bree shouts.

  “Polo!” We call out in chorus. I tear around another bend, seeing flashes of people running every which way. The darkness charges the air with veiled expectancy.

  “Marco!”

  Oh God, she’s super close. I shout my “Polo” and dodge into another bushy alcove. I peer through a gap in the branches.

  Bree slows. She wears a sleeping mask with realistic eyes painted on, so it appears she sees even in her blindness. Creepy.

  I hold my breath, afraid my racing heart will tip off my whereabouts. I’m crouched several feet away in a dead end of foliage.

  A twig snaps. Bree’s eerie eyes move from my direction, and she fumbles her way ahead.

  I exhale just as a familiar silhouette creeps by. “Psst!” I hiss.

  Seth stops, glancing back. With a quiet giggle, I grab his arm, pulling him into my shadowed hideou
t.

  We tumble to the ground. Before he can outmaneuver me, I seize the front of his shirt, pulling him downward until his lips crush mine.

  He draws a sharp breath, mouth tensing. But…isn’t this what he’s been waiting for? Why does he seem frozen by my lips? Surely, he can’t still be worried about us? Tilting my head, I reposition my mouth over his, deepening the kiss. I’ll make damn certain my actions will dispel his doubt.

  And they do.

  Oh. My. God. Seth has been holding back. I gasp as the frenzy of his passion makes every single nerve ending scream for more. He shifts his weight so I’m not crushed into the damp grass. His hand slips under to cradle my head, pulling me closer. Winding my arms around his torso, I lose myself.

  I feel tossed into the strongest current of the Opal River, held captive in a whirling eddy. I want to stay in this spinning place forever. No moment compares to the feel of his weight, his mouth, his skin….And if time were really measured in grains of sand, I would take this grain and flatten it. Stretch it as far as physics allowed, let myself bask in this feeling. Forever and ever and ever.

  Kissing Seth has always been nice. But this, this speaks to the truth of what we are. We are soul mates. We belong.

  The game continues unfolding around us. Laughter rings out. “All right, you a-holes, who depantsed me?” a deep voice snaps. But the shouts and laughter sound light-years away, in another solar system, another dimension.

  I hover outside myself, watching the barefoot girl sprawled on her back in the dewy grass, and the boy who kisses her like he’s fulfilling a dying wish. If the moonlight could reach them, it would draw sparkling lines over his broad shoulders and her pale skin, painting them with silvery magic.

  Strange, for the first time I don’t notice Seth’s cologne—not that it’s ever been overwhelming, just something I’ve come to expect. Maybe it’s because I’m overwhelmed by the smell of the green around me—pungent, earthy, and sweet.

  The rhythm of our breaths makes the goose bumps rise, causing my body to tremble. And it isn’t until his hand cups the side of my neck, and his thumb travels the distance from my chin to just beneath my ear, that I realize why everything is amplified. It’s nothing to do with the moon or grass or dark muted colors….

  I’m not kissing Seth.

  I am kissing Grant Walker.

  I gasp, scrambling back on my elbows from under him. My heart hammers and I’m overcome with so much dizziness that the Earth feels wobbly on her axis.

  Grant rocks back to his knees, breathless and stunned. “I—I…I wouldn’t have…but then you grabbed me. And…” He rubs a shaky hand over his face.

  My lips are still throbbing with the memory of his. I clap a hand over my mouth to keep them from betraying me any more than they already have. More than they already do.

  “Jesus,” he whispers. There’s a subtle collapse of his shoulders. “You thought I was Seth.”

  I slowly nod, afraid to unclap my hand from my mouth, afraid of the words that might spill out: I’m glad you weren’t. The thought makes me ill and brings with it other thoughts I want to banish and leave hidden deep in this labyrinth.

  Grant braces his hands on his thighs, surveying the matted grass around us. “No. No, I don’t believe you.”

  My hand falls from my face. “What?” I whisper.

  “Maybe at first, but then you had to have known—”

  “No,” I say in a rush, “I didn’t! You said yourself people mistake you all the time. And it was dark and you’re the same height and…you were inside with Lila! She was kissing you! Why aren’t you with Lila?” My argument loses steam when the truth crashes in—I did know. Maybe not consciously at first, but at every level the kiss felt different. It felt…more.

  “Nothing happened with Lila, Wil. I couldn’t go through with it. She’s not who I want to be with. Not when all I think about is—”

  “This was an accident.” I rise on unreliable legs. “We can’t tell anyone, especially Seth. He…wouldn’t take it well.”

  Seth and I are barely back on solid ground, and this would break us. I am positive. I can wave goodbye to my perfect match, and hello to a decade plus of loneliness. Of cold.

  Grant stands. “So, what, you want this to be our dirty little secret?”

  “It wasn’t dirty,” I lash out.

  “Oh?” He takes a step closer. I can’t believe moments ago I was totally wrapped up in those strong arms, never wanting to let go. “Then what was it?”

  I stumble back against the bushes.

  “Because I’d love to know.” He continues leveling me with his eyes. The battle horn echoes. The game is still going on, but the players are changing. Now it feels like a game between only Grant and me.

  I square my shoulders and step closer, until we almost touch. “It was a mistake, Grant. A mistake that will never, ever happen again.” I feel the tears build as I say it, but I must end this between us. Sever the invisible cord that binds us…for the last time.

  The anger churning in Grant mixes with a sad sort of resignation. “The way you kissed me back wasn’t a mistake. The only mistake is—”

  “Shh!” I cup my hand over his mouth. Padding footfalls rush by. I peer through the branches until the coast is clear. I yank back my hand with the sudden awareness of how his breath feels like licks of flames against my palm.

  Floodlights blaze, saturating the labyrinth and backyard with yellow light. The shadows are harder to find now. There is nowhere to hide. Nowhere is safe.

  The game is over.

  “Please,” I whisper, “promise me you won’t breathe a word of this. I’ll…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll tell him. I’ll explain. Somehow I’ll make him understand.” But staring at Grant, I realize the likelihood of that is minuscule.

  “Fine, I won’t breathe a word,” Grant replies, anger edging back in his voice. “But I want you to answer one question.” He grits his teeth before pressing on. “Would your feelings for Seth change if he were any other sign? If he weren’t whatever your astrology mandated, would you still have chosen him?”

  My lips part, only the words don’t come. But…the question’s unfair; it’s a vast generalization.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re making this too hard. Because the answer’s so damn easy, Wil.” His lips tilt in a rueful grin. “It shouldn’t matter. If you had truly fallen for him…it wouldn’t matter.”

  I open my mouth to argue. To tell him it would matter. He doesn’t understand the high price of recklessly following my heart’s desires. It would mean dishonoring the wishes of my mother. Obliterating my promise—the very thing that kept her closest to me.

  Grant holds up a hand. “No more. I don’t want to hear you.” He slowly backs out from the alcove. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t even want to think about you.”

  “Wil?” Seth calls in the distance. “Wil? Where are you?”

  My breath feels strangled. And the world won’t stop its incessant wobbling. I stagger outside the nook and sink back to the ground, burying my face in my hands. I want it to stop. I want everything to just…stop. How did things become so twisted?

  Before Grant crash-landed in my life, my path was always sure, my footsteps certain. With astrology as my guide, I’ve always had my map to life. I never had to question.

  But now, no matter how I flip or turn my map, there’s no denying…

  I. Am. Lost.

  Hopelessly pulled in every cardinal direction.

  “There you are! What are you doing on the ground?” Seth grins widely, but then his eyes narrow. “Hey…you’ve been cheating, haven’t you?”

  “Huh?” I croak, my stomach capsizing. Panicked, I look around for Grant. He’s gone, having disappeared into the thickets of the garden.

  “I said you’ve been cheating. I don’t think I heard you shout ‘Polo’ for the last four rounds.” He reaches down, hoisting me up to my feet.

  “Oh, um, guilty.” The most honest s
tatement I’ve made all night, and I can’t meet his eyes when I say it.

  Seth smiles. “Aw, come here, my little rule breaker. I won’t tell.” He twines his arms around my waist and bends to kiss me.

  I duck, pressing my cheek to his chest. “I—I’m sorry. I feel a little nauseous all of a sudden.” Without a doubt, I do feel sick. I hold a hand to my roiling gut.

  “Why do you have wood chips in your hair?” He chuckles, pulling out a few and tossing them to the hedges. “And grass? You’re all damp, Wil.” His hands brush over my back. “No wonder you never got tagged, you were staked out in the bushes.”

  “Seth, I really don’t feel well.” Bile bubbles up my throat.

  “Oh?” He studies me as he places a palm at my cheek. “Huh. You do feel warm. Maybe we should call it a night. Let you rest up so you can feel better for tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?” My vocal cords sound braided.

  “Family dinner.” He grins and takes my hands in his. “I think it’s time I introduced you to my parents, don’t you? I mean, my mom’s on the verge of disowning me if I don’t bring you home so she can meet you.” Seth laughs. “Which is bananas because she’s never been that amped to meet anyone I’ve ever dated. So”—he squeezes my hands—“what do you say, sweetheart?”

  Say? There is nothing I can say. The monumental guilt of passionately making out with his brother not five minutes earlier has left me utterly gagged.

  It takes five, okay, six wardrobe changes before I deem myself fit to meet the parents. Let’s call a spade a spade and say three of those changes were because of Grant—who, if I recall, doesn’t want to hear, see, or think about me.

  My guilt has got to be detectable from the edges of the tristate area. I expected Gram to pick up on the stench of my lies the second I stepped foot in the house this morning. Just like I expected her to tell me I couldn’t go to Seth’s for dinner. She surprised me on both counts.

  My secrets corrode my insides like a coating of acid. If I keep this up, I’ll need organ transplants by the end of next week. And I barely slept last night. Not even after waking Iri from a dead sleep to unload my sins.