“Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” April tugged at the sleeve of my pea coat as she pulled me out the door—just as I hung up on Knight’s voicemail without leaving a message.
We were running through the crowded hallway, shouldering past students on our way to a Drum Kithead show.
Normally, I didn’t do partying of any kind, but what were the odds of this band showing up at this shitty North Carolinian college again? Plus, it had been a miserable three weeks since I’d gotten back to Boon, and I’d spent the vast majority of them either texting, calling, or writing to Knight. Why I bothered was beyond me. He never answered, even the phone calls, passing on the chance to hear my voice.
Why had I been able to speak to Knight? I asked myself that question over and over again, and I always came to the same conclusion: it had felt like survival. A plea to my lifeline. And still, he’d walked away, just like Val. I was dying to reconnect with Knight…and also dying to know if I’d actually be able to speak to him again. Had it been a fluke?
Not talking felt like living inside a snow globe, with a thick layer of protection against the world. I knew I could, but at this point, it felt almost redundant to do so. No one expected me to talk. In a way, every day I didn’t utter a word felt like an accomplishment. A competition between me and myself.
But with Knight, I broke all the rules. I wanted his attention, his forgiveness, his everything.
After the train wreck that was Thanksgiving dinner, Edie had pulled me outside when we got back home and offered me a glass of wine. I’d declined.
“Can I give you my two cents?” she’d asked.
I’d nodded. It wasn’t like I’d had much choice, and besides, anything beat going into the house and facing my father’s expression, probably a mixture of confusion and horror at the fact I had slept with some guy he didn’t even know.
“The thing is…” Edie had taken a sip of her red wine, sprawling in her quilted hammock, stargazing. “You and Knight have known each other from the day you were born. You don’t know anything else. You have no idea where the love starts or the familiarity begins. The lines have blurred so badly, you’re both acting up and defying each other. Maybe it’s best that you let it go, enjoy college, and revisit this thing with Knight on summer vacation. You have the right to be happy, Luna. And I’ve a feeling Knight is making you really unhappy right now.”
“That’s not true,” I’d jumped to his defense in sign language. “Knight makes me very happy.”
She’d slipped her tan leg past the hammock, her toes digging into the grass to stop its movement, then sat up and stared directly at me.
“I heard you talk to him. With words.”
My eyes had widened. She’d shaken her head.
“Don’t worry. No one else did. We gave you your privacy. Point is, you didn’t sound happy. You sounded…hurt. That’s not how I wanted to hear you when you finally spoke to someone who wasn’t me.”
But almost a month later, even though I knew Edie was right, I still couldn’t shake off the need to stay in touch with Knight. I checked all of his friends’ Instagram and Twitter accounts. Every day.
Even now, as we slipped into Josh’s roommate Ryan’s car, I knew I’d rather stay in my dorm, staring at the phone and waiting for Knight to get back to me, even though I had no evidence to support that he might.
I slid into Ryan’s back seat before noticing that April had taken the passenger seat. When I swiveled my head, I realized why. Josh sat next to me in the back. He smiled, signing, “April called shotgun when she talked to Ryan on the phone.”
The past three weeks had been what my childhood friend Daria would call awkward central. I’d taken a step back from Josh, telling him I still had feelings for Knight and couldn’t be with anyone else. Meanwhile, April and Ryan had grown closer. Their blooming romance kind of forced Josh and me to hang out, even if we needed space from each other. But I couldn’t fault my roommate for wanting to spend time with her new boyfriend.
April and Ryan shared a noisy kiss in the front.
Josh rolled his eyes and smiled. “How have you been?”
That was the worst part—seeing how kind and beautiful he was as a person, even when I’d brought my walls back up, even when I made him feel like a mistake.
“Fine.” I used that damn word. “You?”
“Yeah. Good.”
Thankfully, the ride was short.
When we arrived, it was the kind of gig where everybody was crammed like sardines into a darkened space no bigger than my parents’ living room, the scent of warm beer and sweat wafting through the dense, smoky air—the kind of place even Vaughn and Knight couldn’t usually drag me to. But after my disastrous Thanksgiving, I’d found that maybe Knight wasn’t the only one with a shiny, red self-destruction button. I wanted to forget, too. I wanted to drown in alcohol and sweaty bodies and loud noises no less than he did.
More than anything, I refused to stop. I was making huge progress—Malory said so herself. For the first time in months, I didn’t dread the idea of her sending my parents updates about me, and I wanted to continue building friendships and getting out of my comfort zone.
There was a mosh pit, and good vibes, and—I had to agree with April—a really hot lead singer to drool over. I danced with Josh and lost myself in the music. By the second hour of bobbing my head and buying all of us rounds of drinks with my fake ID, I wondered if the recipe for giving up Knight was simply drowning in distractions.
I didn’t have to wonder long. As soon as I felt my phone buzzing in my back pocket, I pulled it out and frowned. Knight’s name flashed over a picture of him lifting up his shirt and winking at the camera, exposing his glorious six pack.
He was calling me back.
Finally. After dozens of unanswered calls.
Expecting my words.
In front of my friends, who’d faint if they heard me speak.
Answering him would be dangerous, but I couldn’t help myself, knowing he might change his mind if I waited to call him back. I excused myself and ran out into the alleyway sandwiched between the club and a coffee shop. I hit answer and jammed a finger into my ear so I could hear him better.
At first, I just listened to his soft breaths, feeling shudders of both pleasure and pain coursing through my body. His sheer existence excited me. Vaughn was wrong. Moving away from Knight didn’t solve the problem. It amplified it.
“Hey,” his gruff baritone said, finally.
“Hi,” I whispered, too afraid to be heard by anyone else. I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone who wasn’t him yet, but for some reason, when he was around I needed to speak—to claim his attention somehow. I still couldn’t understand why I was able to speak to him, especially now. I was putting my new, meaningful friendships at risk for someone who’d made it clear he wanted to get even with me. Who sought revenge. Who craved my pain.
“How have you been?” I asked at the same time he said, “You need to stop calling me, Luna.”
There was a beat of silence in which I digested what he’d said. He wasn’t mean or menacing this time. There was no edge to his voice.
“What?” I gasped.
“I’m trying really hard not to hurt you, but I’m struggling. You need to take a step back before I do something I’ll regret,” he explained.
“Who said I can leave you alone?” I asked breathlessly, not really deciphering my own words. “You think I haven’t tried?”
“Try harder, Luna. I know you can, because for about eight years, you did. Three unreciprocated kisses. You sleeping with someone else. You did a pretty darn good job, so just keep doing it, okay?”
I remembered what he’d said about my presence feeling like a metal chain. A heavy burden he wanted to shake off. Guess it had always been easy for me to choose Knight, because I didn’t have any options. Because Knight always chose me. But his choice came with a bigger sacrifice. He was the one getting me out of trouble, shooing off the bullies, making sure I had someone to sit with at recess. He was the one who constantly gave up the opportunity to actually date the hottest girls.
“Moonshine,” he pushed through the fog in my head, pulling me back to reality. “Give it a rest. You’re poking the bear.”
“You didn’t even say anything about my talking,” I sulked, feeling the anger clogging my throat.
I didn’t know why it was so important to address it right this second. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I always knew you’d talk, and not just to me. To everyone. I watched you crawl out of your shell, and it was slow, but by fucking God, it was beautiful. Have you spoken to anyone else?”
He sounded warm, conversational now—the Knight I was used to, who looked at me with admiration and delight.
I thought about my answer before giving it to him this time. “I’m working on it. It’s strange to be without the gang, but I think I like it. I think I like being on my own. What about you? How’s school? Football?”
This was what we’d come to. Two strangers making small talk. I wanted to cry, and I had to bite my trembling lower lip to stop it from happening.
“We’re winning, which is good. School is fine. Mom is…”
“What?” I panicked. “How is Rosie doing?”
“Fine,” he amended his initial, worried tone. Still—that annoying word. “She’s getting more intensive treatment, but she’s doing well.”
“Send her my love.”
“Always.”
Are you dating someone?
Who is she?
Is she pretty?
My thought process scared me. I’d never cared much for boys. Only that wasn’t true. It just happened that the only boy I cared about was finally taking a step back, and now I knew how much he’d meant to me.
“Luna! Where the hell have you been? Josh is panicking that he lost you because he was the last person to see you.” I heard April’s drunken laugh just then, and turned around, my mouth falling open.
I was caught red-handed, with my phone pressed against my ear. As soon as April saw it, she stumbled back.
“Whoa.” She hiccupped, bracing herself against the red-brick wall.
I heard a dark chuckle coming from the other end of the line.
“Have a good night, Moonshine.” Knight’s voice turned metallic before the line went dead.
Crap. Now Knight knew I was spending time with Josh, and he’d probably draw his own wrong conclusions. But he’d explicitly asked me not to contact him any more, so I couldn’t even explain myself. Not without ignoring the only thing he’d ever asked of me.
I stuffed my hands into my back pockets, smiling awkwardly as April paced toward me, her expression hooded. Now I had an entire new set of worries to obsess over. Had she heard me speaking? That could ruin everything.
“Naughty Knight?” She tapped her lips.
I nodded. She rolled her eyes as she approached me, looping her arm over my shoulders and walking me to the door. I let out a relived sigh. She hadn’t heard.
“Why is the asshole calling you? Can’t he take a goddamn hint? Jesus. What a douche canoe.”
Of course, I did not correct her assumption, because explaining to her how I was a selective mute would require me to also tell her what had happened. Tell her about Val. And that wasn’t a story I was keen on telling. We went back into the club, and as soon as April spotted Ryan and Josh, she shoved me into the latter’s arms, jumping on Ryan and wrapping her arms around his neck as she awarded him with a wet kiss. I fell into Josh’s hands. As always, he caught me.
In the car, Josh glanced at me. His eyes told me April had given him the rundown. I liked April, but I hated the way she butted into my business.
“I know you said Knight is the one, and I respect that,” he signed. “But would you ever give me a chance to try to be that other one? The second big love? The one you end up marrying? Because I’d like to apply.”
I wondered how much of it was him wanting me, and how much of it was him finally finding someone like him. The same age. Who liked the same bands and studied at the same school. Of the same heritage—more or less—who spoke sign language.
We had everything going for us, other than one thing: our hearts.
I squeezed his hand, biting my lip in answer.
He knew.
Three nights after the phone call with Knight, I was lying in bed, doing my usual Instagram routine to look for pictures of him. There were none. Maybe he didn’t go to parties anymore? The prospect made me physically sick. For all my jealousy, I wanted him to have fun. I wanted him to be happy and meet girls and get over me. Because even if I didn’t get over him, I desperately cared for his wellbeing.
When I came up empty-handed, I decided to log into Poppy’s profile. I didn’t expect to see much. I wanted to count the Likes on that kissing picture and cheer up when I thought about the amount of money they had collected for Rosie’s cystic fibrosis foundation.
Poppy had posted four new pictures since the one that broke my heart. Three of them accordion-related, and of no importance to me. It was the last image that gave me pause. I clicked on it. She’d tagged a restaurant in La Jolla. It was of a giant milkshake with chocolate-covered pretzels, an entire donut, an enlarged Tim Tam to use as a straw, and three different ice cream scoops mounted on the glass. Next to the milkshake, was something that made my heart beat faster. Car keys.
Aston Martin car keys.
A distinctive Aston Martin car key, with a keychain that said My Favorite People Call Me Daddy, something Knight had found in Dean’s drawer and thought it’d be funny to use.
Had Knight taken Poppy on a date? It was easier to tell myself they were hanging out with more people, but why wouldn’t he go out with her? He’d said to leave him alone. That he wanted some space. This was perfect. She was perfect.
I knew it would drive me mad to think about it, so I chose not to. I threw off my covers and padded to my desk. Not, God forbid, to my typewriter, which was still untouched, but to my MacBook. Briefly, I wondered if something, or someone, would ever give me the courage to pick up a pen and write. I did write essays and short stories for school, but I never wrote anything I didn’t absolutely need to.
I opened my search bar and Googled the one name that always sucked me into a black hole and made me forget. The perfect diversion from Knight.
Valenciana Vasquez.
I hit enter, sat back, watched the results roll in neatly, and started to dig.
