A week has gone by since I stopped feeding into my illusions and denying what’s right in front of me—although if I’m being honest, it felt more like a month.
Turns out getting over your crush is hard. Especially crushes you’ve had since before you even knew how to spell the word crush.
In any other situation, moving on would be simple. All I’d have to do is distance myself from him and hope that whoever came up with “out of sight, out of mind” was onto something.
But nothing about this situation is simple.
How do you distance yourself from the guy who lives in your house?
It’s 8:30 by the time I get dressed and walk out of my room. School is out today, and I’ve been meaning to tell Kane I have a date tonight, so I won’t be able to make our meeting.
I make a beeline for the bathroom but realize that someone’s already in there when I find the door locked and hear the sink running.
I’m about to knock when the door opens.
I spin to see Kane standing in the doorway. “Sorry. All yours.”
“No worries,” I say.
He flashes a small smile and walks out.
I enter the bathroom but don’t close the door, seizing the opportunity to tell him, “By the way, I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
He stops dead and turns to look at me. “Why not?”
I’m a bit thrown off by his response. I thought I’d get an uninterested “okay” at most, and call me crazy, but I hear disappointment in his voice.
“I, um… I have a date.”
I start to close the door. At least, I try to, but the next thing I know, Kane’s palm is smacked against it, blocking it.
“You have a what?” A raw edge of irritation bleeds through his words.
“A date?” I repeat, but it sounds like I’m asking him.
“With who?”
I give a shrug as if to seem unbothered. “Some guy from school.”
His glare merely intensifies when I say that, and I word-vomit to fill the awkward silence. “He asked me out last week. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll finally get my first kiss out of the way.”
He doesn’t answer, the muscles in his jaw twitching.
I assume our conversation has run its course and begin to close the door. Only, Kane stops me again, driving his palm against the door and holding it open.
“It shouldn’t be like this.”
I hear the words he’s saying, but I don’t understand them. “What are you talking about?”
He pins me with a look that makes me shiver. “Your first kiss. The way you think is bullshit.”
He shocks me by pushing past me and slamming the door behind him, trapping us together in the bathroom.
My lungs constrict the air in them, squeezing tighter and tighter the closer he gets.
I raise a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means your first kiss shouldn’t happen because you’re trying to prove something to your shitty friends. It shouldn’t be something you want to get out of the way, and it sure as hell shouldn’t happen with some guy you just met.”
I’m shocked by his outburst.
“If not some guy I just met, then who? Maybe I could ask my friend Kane.” I fake gasp. “Oh wait, I already did.”
“That’s not…” He exhales a breath. “Look, all I’m saying is it should be a bigger deal. Fuck what your friends think. Fuck what everybody thinks. Their opinions don’t matter.”
The last part of his sentence irritates me.
“Their opinion don’t matter? Pretty ironic coming from the guy who’s too scared to share his gift with the world, don’t you think?”
He smacks his mouth shut at my comeback.
“You’re lecturing me about not caring what people think when you can’t even tell your own mom you love music. Why can’t you just stop hiding?”
His jaw clenches. “I… Don’t change the subject.”
I know this isn’t fair, but I’m so mad I can’t think straight. Kane’s dad basically rewired his brain into thinking singing was a waste of time.
Years and years of abuse made Kane think that wanting to play music was pathetic and that writing songs would never get him anywhere in life.
I can’t blame him for needing a second to believe in himself again, but reading his lyrics and hearing him sing knowing that he might never do anything with that voice makes me want to scream.
I know in my bones that Kane was put on this earth to be an artist. Why can’t he?
“What are you so afraid of?” I can tell this is a sensitive topic by the way he glares at me. “If I were you, I’d be sharing my talent with everyone.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not me.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He plays dumb. “What question?”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Isn’t it? Because as your friend, it is my business whether or not you’re—”
“Stop,” he warns.
I keep pushing. “Are you going to let your dad ruin the rest of your life?”
That’s when he erupts. “I said it’s none of your business. For fuck’s sake, Hadley!”
He swings the bathroom door open and storms off before I can answer. I shouldn’t have gone there, but listening to him lecture me about being a people pleaser when he has a bunch of issues he needs to resolve himself is pushing my buttons.
His words echo in the back of my head, taunting me until I snap and make a decision I can never go back from.
I open the YouTube app on my phone and click the Upload button.
Then I select the video I took of Kane singing “Iris.”
If he can’t share his talent with the world…
Then I’ll do it for him.
