The Stars Will Shine (34 page)

The walk from the parking lot to the dugout is the longest of my life.

And every inch I push open the gate to enter the baseball field, it’s the cry of the banshee. I cringe the entire step from cement to dirt.

I’m just outside the dugout’s entrance now, but Aiden won’t meet my eyes, his head still bowed in his hands. The interior of the dugout is painted a dark forest green color, and sunflower seed shells litter the floor. With the toe of my shoe, I push some into a pile at the threshold as I wait for Aiden to acknowledge my presence.

He doesn’t.

“Aiden,” I finally say.

I get no response.

“I want you to yell at me.”

Aiden doesn’t move a centimeter.

“I want you to tell me everything you hate about me.”

It’s another elongated, painful stretch of utter stillness before he quietly says, “I don’t hate you.”

I huff, and the abruptness of it pushes me over the edge. “Yell at me, Aiden! Jesus!”

Aiden finally—slowly—turns his head.

I step forward, blood rising in my chest and neck. “Dammit, look me in the eyes, and tell me everything you hate about me.”

Aiden still doesn’t move.

Air rushes into my lungs, and my lips curl inward. I rush forward and shove his shoulder. “
Tell me!
I want you to scream at me!”

“I don’t want to fight,” he says. His words are a punch to my gut, and that’s when the realization of what I’m asking him to do washes like ice water through my veins. I’m asking him to act like his parents.

“No fight,” I say, quieter now. “I just want you to confess to me like you did to the storm that one night. I want to be your storm for a while. Tell me everything you felt when I broke your heart.”

Aiden won’t take his eyes off my face now, and it unnerves me. They’re fastened to my eyes with a rigidness and intensity that almost drives me to my knees. “I wanted to shake you by your shoulders,” he whispers so quietly I almost don’t make it out.

“Yell it, Aiden. Like you did to the storm.”

I need you to do this. Don’t you get it? I need to know that you are capable of being angry with me.

Aiden stands abruptly and stares me down hard, his jaw set and a sheen in his eyes that can only come from a ferocity within, from a monstrous beast breaking free from its cage and coming for retribution. We stare at each other for so many heavy breaths. I see the feelings rising up in him, trying to claw their way out.

“I wanted to shake some goddamn sense into you!” he says, finally bringing volume to his voice. “You’re so”—he jerks his arms in frustration—“so freaking irrational sometimes!” I let his words wrap their way around me.

He breathes hard and goes on, his words a wildfire no longer in his control. Every breath he takes, they’re fed with the oxygen they need to grow more dangerous.

“What happened to you that made you this way?” He lets out a weary breath, and his brows pull together as he moves his head from side to side. “I have been
so
patient. So patient, Delilah. All I ever wanted was for you to trust me. To talk to me, to let me in.”

Aiden shoves his hands into his pockets and takes two paces past me. He turns around again to face me from the other side of the dugout. “
For some reason, you don’t want to
want
that with me—”

“I just wanted you to be like the others—”

“I don’t want to be like all the other guys! All those assholes you let use you! I care about you too goddamn much!” We breathe heavily, stares intensely penetrating each other.

“Someone hurt you,” he says, quietly blunt, but there’s a sincerity behind them that promises me comfort if I’ll let him in. “I know that, okay—it’s been apparent since the first day I met you in the paint section at Lowe’s. So I get why you think you can’t depend on me. But whoever that guy was—Delilah, I’m
not him
. And you know that, deep inside. You know I’m not him.” His tone is pleading now.

“I know,” I whisper.

“Then why won’t you let me feel anything for you?” He sounds so broken when he says it, so exhausted from not knowing what I want.

“Because you’re so much better than him.”

Aiden looks at me, bewildered, his head shaking slightly.

“I thought you deserved better than me,” I go on. Tears well up at the bottoms of my eyes, and I wipe them away before they can fall. “And I thought things would get too messed up, so I left before they could.”

Aiden moves closer to me. “It was so good between us, though.” His eyes are sad as he locks them on mine. “But I can’t be that guy…the one that you won’t let yourself fall for because you think you’re only worthy of a superficial relationship. It kills me that you used me for that.”

“It was never superficial with us,” I choke out. “I know that now.”

Aiden regards me for a long while. “What are you saying?”

I can see his hands tighten at his sides, and I know he’s holding his breath, waiting, wondering what I’m going to reveal.

“I’m saying I like you, Aiden. I fucking like you, okay? And I want to give us a shot. I do, I think.”

Aiden’s jaw hardens. “You think. Dammit, Delilah—”

“I—I mean I
do
want to.” I squeeze my eyes shut. My heartbeat builds to a whirring, where one beat blurs into the next “I
know
. Not think. I don’t think,” I stammer. “Fuck, I’m not good with words right now…”

Aiden is still shaking his head, but he lets out a rush of air, and with it I swear I see the smallest of smiles push through the despair on his face.

He comes the rest of the way forward, body and eyes so steady, and he takes me into his arms. My face tucks perfectly into the spot between his chest and shoulder, and he calms me down with soft strokes at the back of my head.

“Your song is beautiful,” I say, weeping weakly at how good it feels to be in his arms again. He pulls back a little to look at me. “The one you wrote for me,” I clarify with a sniffle. He uses his thumb to wipe away some fallen tears from my cheek. “I only just heard it a couple days ago.”

He kisses my forehead when I look up at him.

“Do you want to talk about your parents?” I ask gently.

He pulls my face back to his chest and shushes me softly.

“Yeah…But let’s just enjoy this for a while,” he says as we sway lightly in each other’s embrace. “The quiet feels too good to break with words.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Two Months Later

The knock on my door sounds packed full of anger.

In fact, it’s more like a punch.

“Shit!” I hiss. I shove Aiden out of my bed, and he rolls to the floor, completely naked, his expression as he’s airborne about as freaked as mine must be.

“Open the damn door, Delilah!”

I wrap my sheet around me.

Aiden partially yanks on his jeans and hops over to the window as he tries and fails to get his other foot into the other pant leg. He tosses the window open and rolls through backward, shirtless and still partially pant-less.

“I’m getting dressed!” I yell at Dylan, who lets out a roar from the other side of my door.

“Oh, I know you are!”

Okay, so I guess Aiden’s and my sex sounds weren’t as quiet as we thought.

I see the lock on the door turn as if in slow motion, but it’s only an instant before Dylan stands in my doorway, rage rolling off of him, door key in fist. A quick glance toward the window, still open and curtains rustling, lets me know Aiden made it through, but he’s probably crouched on the roof just below the windowsill.

And, let’s be honest, the window clearly looks like someone just escaped through it.

Dylan’s hands clench more tightly as his eyes fall to something on the floor. That’s when I see Aiden’s tee-shirt and boxers just chillin’ in the middle of my room, ultimately betraying us.

I guess it’s
that
time.

I knew it would come eventually. We couldn’t keep our relationship a secret forever. You see, when it comes to Dylan, he has an exceptional talent for
nearly
catching Aiden and me in compromising positions. This time, it’s just, you know, a tad more obvious what we’ve been up to.

I pull my sheet more tightly against me, bracing myself for Dylan’s wrath.

But he doesn’t go for me.

“AIDEN!” he bellows. All I can think for a moment is it’s a good thing the rest of the Kylers are gone right now because I don’t think I could take having them join our little shindig up here to see what the racket is about. “I know you’re out there, and I swear to God, when I get my hands on you I’m going to pound your face in!” He growls as he goes to the window and looks out, his hands curled over the ledge like he wants to pull the wall out with his bare hands. “You son of bitch!”

“Hey, buddy! Good to see you, too!” It’s a faint shout, so I know Aiden has somehow made it across the backyard, probably almost over the wall. I imagine him sitting atop the stone—maybe still half-pant-less, definitely still shirtless—waving brightly back at Dylan before disappearing over the ledge. Dylan slams his palms down.

“Run all you want, you coward! But you’ll have to face me eventually!”

And it’s the truth. They are, after all, in a band together…currently with two other guys from our class at Sonoma Valley High School. And they’re finally getting good coverage now. Lately, it seems they have a concert booked every weekend. After just a few successful shows at Miles of Vinyls, their local fame skyrocketed, and every small venue around wants them to come play.

In spite of the seriousness of this moment, I fall back against my mattress and laugh. I pull the sheet over my face, and I let the hilarity rip. Dylan’s heavy breaths gradually soften, and when I peek out from beneath the sheet, his eyes are latched onto my face, baffled by my outburst.

“Don’t hate me,” I say, still laughing. He looks way more confused than angry now. “But I’m pretty sure I’m in love with your best friend.”

Dylan’s jaw slowly goes slack as his face softens. “Really?”

I nod, sober now, keeping my eyes on his. “Really.”

It’s a long while before Dylan utters anything.

“Huh.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Eight Months Later

Aiden takes my hand and squeezes it lightly as the hostess leads us to our table.

“Good thing we made a reservation,” he says in my ear. I scan the crowded restaurant and mutter in agreement. We take our seats on either side of the booth while the hostess tells us our waitress’s name is Whitney and that she’ll be with us soon.

I lean forward and take Aiden’s hand from across the table.

“So, my dad really likes you,” I say. He perks up, smiling proudly. “He told me so this morning. Said you’re quite the keeper.”

“I
am
quite the keeper,” Aiden concurs.

I wrinkle my nose at him. “I think you just have a skill for charming people into thinking so.” I laugh at his mock pout and lean back in my seat, taking him in. “Thanks for helping me move back to Arizona.”

“My pleasure,” Aiden says. “I happen to like this—” he waves his hand around—“oven dry heat you got here.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Our waitress Whitney pops in and takes our orders, and twenty minutes later, she delivers our juicy steaks with sides of broccoli and potatoes—mine loaded baked and Aiden’s garlic mashed.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” I say to Aiden as I cut into my steak, suddenly more serious. I don’t want to cry here in front of all these people, but the thought of being apart from him for God only knows how long, after spending nearly every day of the past school year together, rips my chest open wide.

“I’ll visit you. And you’ll visit me. There will always be a backstage pass for you at our concerts, you know. For whenever you randomly want to show up.” Aiden wiggles his eyebrows to cheer me up. “And an onstage pass for if you ever want to join us on the keyboard again.” He’s referencing the number of times I played with their band around the Bay Area, whenever they needed an extra hand. It was a thrill being up there with them on a stage and having people appreciate the music we made. Definitely something I’ll miss. But as much as I love music, I’m not made for the stage like Aiden and Dylan are. Being in a band is not my calling. I still don’t know what is, but I figure I have my entire life to find out.

“Oh, I wanted to ask you,” Aiden says, stabbing a massive piece of broccoli and shoving it, whole, into his mouth. He makes a big show of chewing it rapidly and swallowing it down. “I know it’s still a year away, but will you be my date to Amber and Trevyn’s wedding?”

“Hmm, well, I was actually thinking of asking someone myself…”

He squeezes my knee under the table, faux-flashing his eyes at me, and I laugh. “But the guy just beat me to it.” I wink at him, and he leans back in his booth seat to watch me for a moment, taking me in with a fond expression.