“Let me show you something else.” His feather light touch leaves me as I step away from the telescope.
He does some adjustments with knobs and buttons that mean absolutely nothing to me.
“Now look.”
It’s dark, but I feel his eyes on me. I feel like he’s not just seeing the outer shell, but every single thought, emotion, and my very soul. It’s all in the intensity of his gaze. His body language. It’s so much more than a simple look.
I step up to the telescope once more.
“Oh, my God! Finn! This is incredible!” My exclamation is much too loud for the late hour, but he doesn’t shush me. I can feel happiness radiating off of him like this very real, tangible thing I can just reach out and grab.
I can see the rings around Saturn. Clearly. Fully. It’s magnificent.
“I see why you want to go to outer space now.”
It’s impossible to deny the majesty of seeing the planet so clearly. I never cared to see any of them with my own eye. Beyond a picture in a textbook I couldn’t tell you what they looked like, let alone recall them to memory, but this? I will never forget this.
“Thank you for sharing this with me.” I stand up from my hunched position behind the lens and face him.
He nods, a small dip of his head.
He may not voice it, but I know this has to be a big deal for him.
The stars, space, the infinite realms beyond are his safe place. When he looks at them he can imagine any number of lives, all of them where he’s someone who isn’t judged simply for existing.
Stepping away from the telescope I expect him to take my place, but instead he surprises me by holding out his pinky finger. I hook mine with his and he leads me off the deck and through the yard until we reach the meadow.
He tilts his head back, looking above. Our fingers are still hooked together and I have no intention of dropping his.
“My best memories happen under the night sky,” he murmurs.
Hesitantly, I rest my head on his shoulder. He stiffens for a solid ten seconds before he relaxes.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t met you.” The words are a low murmur, a quiet admission of my heart.
“You would’ve been fine.”
“I’m not so sure.” I exhale a shaky breath, fighting tears that burn the back of my eyes.
“You’re a fighter, Nebula. You don’t need anyone.” I may not need anyone but I want you. “Can I try something?”
I straighten and he turns to face me, our fingers falling from each other. “Try what?”
His eyes drop to the ground and he toes the dirt, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Finn?” I coax, my fingers grazing his cheek lightly, encouraging him to look at me.
He shakes his head back and forth and rocks on his heels.
“Finn,” I laugh softly, “come on, tell me. It’s okay.”
His lips twist together, his dark hair tumbling over his forehead and shielding his eyes further from me.
“I … I … I want to try t-to,” his hands twitch at his sides with nerves and I want to steady them, remind him it’s okay, but I know his ticks help him cope with uncomfortable situations and for whatever reason he’s bothered by something, “to … kissyouagain.”
He rushes the last words together, slurring them, but I still hear them and I’m unable to stop the tiny gasp that rushes through my lips.
“But I thought—” I stop myself and shake my head. Maybe he didn’t dislike the kiss as much as I believed he did. “I would like that,” I say instead of finishing my first thought.
He nods and steps closer to me until our shoes are toe to toe.
My heart drums a raucous beat.
“Hold still,” he commands in a soft voice, eyes on my lips.
I resist the urge to lick my lips and close my eyes.
Seconds tick by, maybe longer, and my heart lurches into my throat when I feel the tender press of his mouth to mine. A moment later his hands cup my cheeks, but barely, almost hovering against me like he’s scared to touch me.
I stay still, despite the urge to touch him, knowing he needs to be in control of this so I give him that.
His lips move hesitantly against mine, nervously studying the contour.
When he steps away, slightly breathless, I think he’s taken my heart with him because I can’t feel it beating anymore.
“Did I do it right?” The slight hesitation in his voice makes me sad.
I nod, still stunned from the feel of his kiss.
He grins and it’s as blinding as the sun.
I stare at him, the stars shining behind him, and feel myself falling.
It’s in that moment that I know my life has been irrevocably changed by Finnley Crawford and I don’t ever want it to go back.
Chapter Nineteen
“All right, shut your mouths, it’s audition time,” Mr. Rochester announces, waving his hands for us to quiet down.
Conversation ceases to exist because you always listen to Mr. Rochester.
He’s probably the one teacher in the entire school everyone is afraid of but also respects immensely.
He strides across the lit stage, pausing in the middle to assess our group.
Beside me, Finn squirms in his seat and Jack rests his head on Finn’s knee in comfort.
“If you’ve signed up to audition,” he taps his pen against the clipboard clasped in his hand, “then you’ll come up when I call your name. Don’t be nervous, you all make fool’s of yourselves on the daily anyway. Any questions?” He waits and when no one raises their hand he takes it as an answer. “Let’s begin. First up, Luanne Dane.”
We sit back and watch her audition, then the next, and another.
So on it goes until my name is called. I silently curse Finn in my head for talking me into this, but I also know this is the exact thing I need to do. If we don’t push our boundaries then life becomes unbearably stagnant.
I scoot past Finn and stride down the aisle, ignoring the feel of too many eyes on me.
Up the stairs to the stage where I had lunch with Finn I pause in the spot where Mr. Rochester stood when he came in. He now sits in the first row, clipboard balanced on his knee, waiting.
“Any time, Ms. Page.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. My hands shake so badly that the script in my hands is noticeably unsteady.
I search the seats until I find Finn.
Centering myself, I begin.
I let everything else fade to the background. There’s just me, the stage beneath my feet, the words leaving my mouth, and Finn.
I finish and Mr. Rochester gives a single nod. His face is neutral, giving absolutely nothing away about whether or not I did okay.
I sit back down beside Finn, expelling a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“You were brilliant, Nebula.”
I look over in surprise at his hushed tone. “Really?”
He nods. “I wouldn’t lie.”
“I know you wouldn’t. But I thought I did horribly.”
He shakes his head. “No, you were magnetic.”
Before I can think I lean over and kiss his cheek. He stiffens in surprise and I pull away hastily.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
He touches his long fingers to his cheek. “I … liked it.”
I smile, opening my mouth to speak but his name is called.
“Good luck,” I whisper as he gets up, Jack following at his heels.
Somehow as Finn gets on stage I’m even more nervous for him than I was myself, which is silly considering he’s done this before and I’m the newbie.
Watching him give his audition I’m in complete awe. He gives it his all, becoming a whole new person, like he’s stepped into another dimension and is tapping into someone else’s thoughts and feelings. He is the character. There is no stuttering or hesitation with him. He’s playing a role and in it he’s comfortable embr
acing the character’s personality and persona. Finn doesn’t exist in that moment, only the character.
When he finishes a few tears cascade down my cheeks and I hastily wipe them away, schooling my features so he isn’t confused by my reaction.
He sits down beside me once more, completely unruffled by what he did up there.
I can’t find any words to speak to express how amazing he did, so I say nothing instead. Words wouldn’t be adequate anyway.
The auditions wind down and since there’s still time left Mr. Rochester puts us all to work on building and painting the sets.
Finn and I sequester ourselves in a corner, painting the front of Belle’s house that the woodshop class made.
I dip the paintbrush in white and work on the siding while Finn paints the door blue.
We work in silence, focused on the task at hand.
A shadow descends over us and I feel Finn stiffen.
Looking up I find Lydia standing there with a nervous smile.
“Um … hi. Mind if I join you guys?”
I look to Finn for his answer. He looks away and returns to painting the door in up and down strokes.
“I guess so,” I mumble, eyeing him for any sign of tightening in his shoulders or body. There is none.
She grabs another paintbrush and dips it in white, helping me with the siding since that’s the biggest task at hand.
“Thanks for letting me work with you guys.” The words are a whispered slur under her breath like she’s afraid to release them.
“Why do you want to work with us?”
She looks at me and Finn behind me. “Because I’m tired of people pretending to be my friend and then whispering about me behind my back. I don’t want to be something I’m not for people to like me. I admire that about you.”
“Thanks?” It comes out as a question and she laughs.
“It’s a good thing, believe me. It’s a breath of fresh air. This school is a bunch of cliqueish snobs, all too eager to spend mommy and daddy’s money and step on anyone they can to get where they’re going. I … I moved here my sophomore year and I’ve wanted nothing more than to be one of them, but I’m not, I never will be and for the first time I’m happy I’m not like them. But I could still use friends.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised to say the least. Her words weren’t what I was expecting.
“I know you don’t really know me yet,” her smile is shy and she tucks a strand of black straight hair behind her ear, “but I’m hoping we can be friends.” She looks at Finn too.
“That would be … nice.”
I wasn’t planning on making any friends. But then Finn happened, so who am I to say no to Lydia? She’s clearly craving a real friendship and if you don’t give something a try you never know. If I cast her aside it doesn’t make me any better than those girls I hate, even the ghost of myself.
Her smile turns from shy and hesitant to relieved and we focus on painting.
A little while later Mr. Rochester dismisses us, calling after our retreating figures that casting will be posted by the end of the week.
Nerves surge through me once more, but I shrug them off. I have no control over this and whatever happens is what’s meant to be.
Lydia walks with Finn and I out of the school and then waves goodbye as she heads to her car.
Finn releases a breath and I frown.
“Are you okay? If Lydia bothers you that’s okay.”
“I don’t like change.” He squints at the sun above us. “But you’ve changed me and I like it so I should give her a chance too. Having friends isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
I beam at his words. “You’ve changed me too.”
“I have?” He glances at me in shock before his eyes dart to the sidewalk beneath him, always careful not to step on any cracks.
“Yeah.” I clasp my backpack straps in my hands. “I can’t quite explain it, but you have. I see things with new eyes.”
“But your eyes are the same,” he states.
I laugh, a full belly laugh that fills my whole body with joy. “Not literally, Finn.”
“Oh, right. You were kidding.” He gives me a half-smile, his lips crooked on one side and that’s when I know he wasn’t being serious but playing with me instead.
“You suck.” I playfully bump him with my shoulder and he laughs too.
We reach his car and he lets Jack in the back.
I slide in the passenger seat and Finn gets behind the wheel.
We look at each other, smiling like goofballs.
When I first started talking to him, the ease and camaraderie we share now felt like a far off dream, but now it’s a reality and I don’t want to look back.
Chapter Twenty
My nerves are shot come Friday. The casting sheet is supposed to be posted today. I’m torn between wanting a major part and nothing at all. I honestly don’t know which will make me happy and which I’ll be disappointed over.
“Don’t you want breakfast, Vi?” My mom calls after me as I hurry down the stairs and toward the door.
I look back at her over my shoulder. “I’m not hungry.”
My stomach is upset from worry and I don’t see myself managing to keep down the scrambled eggs and bacon I can smell wafting from the kitchen.
“Are you sure?” She stands in the entryway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Really, I’m fine, Mom. Just worried about the audition is all, and it’s making me not have much of an appetite.”
She nods, appeased by my answer. “Good luck.” She smiles reassuringly, but it doesn’t ease the tightening in my chest.
“Thanks.”
I slip outside and start down the path and across the driveway to Finn’s house next door.
I stop short when his car is gone.
My brows furrow in confusion. It doesn’t seem like Finn to leave me here and not tell me. My worry deepens, not about the play, but in concern. What if something happened to Finn? He could be hurt or—well, that doesn’t make sense because I doubt he’d be in his car if that were the case.
I turn around to head back to my house and ask my mom for a ride since it’s too cold to take my bike when I see his car turn down the street. He pulls up in front of my driveway and I walk up to the driver’s side as he rolls down the window.
I bend down, fighting a smile. “Did you forget me?”
He looks at me in panic. “N-No, I didn’t forget you. I wouldn’t do that. I-I wanted to surprise you.”
“Surprise me?” I blurt, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“I know you’re nervous about the casting so…”
His eyes drop to his lap and he pushes his glasses up his nose.
“Yes?” I prompt when he’s still quiet.
He takes a deep breath. “I went to get you a chai tea latte and chocolate croissant.”
Words flee from me. I stare at him dumbfounded. “You mean to tell me you got up early, drove to the coffee shop, and went inside during peak time to get me a latte and croissant?”
“Y-Yes,” he stutters. He only stutters when he’s feeling nervous or unsure of himself, and I don’t want him to feel either.
“Finn.” Tears prick my eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
The fact that he braved the crowded coffee shop in order to bring me something to brighten my day and ease my stress is just … wow. I have no words.
“I did good?” He shakes his head, wetting his lips and gives me a small smile. “I’m not … I don’t know how to do this.”
“Well, you’re doing a perfectly good job. We better get going.”
He nods in agreement and rolls up his window as I cross in front of the car, climbing in beside him.
I wasn’t hungry for bacon and eggs but I eagerly grab the bag containing the croissant—pleased to see he got one for himself—and pull off a bite.
“Mmm, this is delicious,” I hum, closing my eyes as the delicious c
hocolate chips melt on my tongue.
Happiness rolls off of him and his easy smile is almost too much for my heart to handle.
“Thank you.” I lean over and kiss his cheek.
His face reddens. “Y-You’re welcome.”
He turns the car around and we head for the school. We both finish our croissants before he parks, and we each take our drinks with us.
I’m still blown away that he went and did this. That wasn’t a little thing for him to do. There are no words to convey how proud I am of him, but also how much it means to me.
Finn holds the door open for me going inside and the nerves that had calmed with his sweet gesture skyrocket. I have no control over the outcome, whether I get a big part, small, or none at all. I have to roll with what happens, but that doesn’t ease my anxiety.
Finn hooks his finger with mine and we stroll down the hall, him practically leading the way with his long-legged gait, to the board where the casting will be posted.
“Hey, guys! Wait up!” Lydia calls after us, running down the hall. Her backpack slaps against her body as she hurries.
Finn and I pause, giving her a chance to catch up. While Finn and I still relatively stick to ourselves, Lydia has hung out with us some this week, and she’s not so bad. I think Finn is starting to warm up to her. I know he’s hesitant, not trusting other people’s motives, and I understand it completely. When it feels like everyone is against you it becomes difficult to trust genuine people.
“Thanks, guys.” Lydia gives a small, relieved smile. “What part are you hoping for?” She directs the question to both of us.
“I don’t know if I even want a part.”
“Really?” Finn’s head whips in my direction. “Why not?”
“I don’t know if I could do it justice. I’m not exactly an actress or anything.”
“I feel you,” Lydia agrees, her pace matching ours. “I told Mr. Rochester I was fine with a small role, but nothing else. I’d rather work on costumes.”
“Do you sew?”
She lights up, her whole face beaming with excitement. “Yes, and I love designing. That’s what I’m hoping to do when I graduate. I’d love to work on movie sets designing the costumes. I love a challenge.”
Whatever Happens Page 11
