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My breath halts.
Two toy cars.
One red. One blue.
Lightning McQueen and Sally.
My hands shake when I flip them over, a part of me already knowing what’s there: the initials CL carved into the metal, so everyone at daycare knew they were mine.
Bile rises to my throat, and I lurch forward, get to the trashcan just in time. Ava rushes into the room, dropping to her knees, her hand on my back. “Damn, how much did we drink?”
Another bout, and this is not how I want her to see me. Or smell me. I wipe my mouth along my forearm, my eyes on hers. “Where did you get that?” I breathe out, my heart racing, panic rushing through my bloodline.
“What are you talking about?”
“The cars!”
“What cars?”
“The box, Ava!” I shout. “Where did you get that box from?!”
“Some lady gave it to me.” Her eyes widen. “Why are you yelling at me?”
I take a calming breath because she doesn’t know. And I don’t want her to. “What lady?”
“I don’t know. She was there after the game when I was waiting out in the lot for you.” Her chest rises with her sharp inhale. “Why? What—”
“Sorry,” I cut in, blinking hard. I pinch the bridge of my nose to alleviate the pounding in my head. “I was just confused, and this hangover…” My words are rushed, just like my pulse, but I don’t want her to see it. To start asking questions. Because she will. And I won’t have the answers. “I’m sorry,” I repeat and sit back on my heels. I’d forgotten I was naked. I look up at her; worried eyes look back. “It was so much happening at once,” I lie, trying to get out of my head. I hate lying to her, but I can’t… I can’t fucking deal. “With Dad on the phone and my head hammering and you—” I try to smile. “You looking as fucking cute as you do right now.”
A hint of a smile. Good. It’s working.
“I should go clean this up,” I say, lifting the trashcan. “And brush my fucking teeth.” I put on a pair of boxer shorts before leaving, taking the trash can with me. Then I go to the bathroom, splash water on my face, and urge my body to slow the fuck down. Everything is happening too fast, blood pumping, pulse raging, head spinning—all of it’s too swift, too much. I grip the edge of the sink, stare at myself in the mirror.
This can’t be happening.
Not now.
Not ever.
Ava.
I just need to get back to Ava, and everything will be okay. Everything will be normal again.
I clean the trashcan, brush my teeth, and make my way back to my room. Ava’s in my bed now, lying on her side, the covers pushed down on one side as if she’d been waiting for me. She smiles. “Good morning, boyfriend.” And she’s everything. She’s all I need. All I want. She’s enough to calm me down, to fill my heart with peace. I pick up the cars, throw them in the trash and get back into bed with her, forgetting everything else. She lifts her head, allowing my arm to find its home around her. “What do you want to do today?” she asks.
“Anything you want.”
Ear to my chest, she settles there, her finger tapping at the same rate as the pulse she’s listening to. She whispers, looking up at me, “I want to get lost in your magic.”
TWENTY-SIX
ava
I’m quick to grab my phone and switch off the alarm, not wanting to wake Connor sleeping beside me. It’s been a few weeks now since the team lost regionals, and we’ve spent almost every night together. Mom and Trevor don’t seem to mind it. In fact, the first night he didn’t stay, Mom was asking for him the next morning, worried that something had happened between us.
Connor groans when I start to get out of bed, his hand finding my arm. “I’m up,” he murmurs.
“No, you’re not. Go back to sleep.”
