Chapter Thirty. The Girl Felix Song Loves
Chapter Thirty
The Girl Felix Song Loves
The rich smell of coffee swirls around us as an incognito mode Felix orders. We settle at a table in the far back, and he holds my hand underneath like we’re in middle school.
“Whaddya reckon we should do?” He uses slightly choppy SimCom, but I appreciate his effort since there’s background noise and he’s wearing a mask.
“We could start by talking about how you’re scared of ruining the band, or this whole Lachlan thi—”
“No. I wanna focus on us tonight.”
I get why he’s refusing to talk. However, watching him lose his best friend and be guilt-ridden for dating me is nearly unbearable. I can’t force it, though. He’ll talk when he’s ready. So I drop it.
He Googles parks nearby, and I grab my own phone while we wait for our drinks.
I double-check the ringer is off (I’m overly paranoid about that now) and snap a picture.
With his hood pulled up, beanie hiding his hair, and black surgical mask covering half his face, the boy across from me could be anyone.
I set the picture as my lockscreen, then text Jo.
Mon, July 29, 12:06 AM
[Natalie]
://image.attachment//:
I’m obsessed with him <3
[Jo]
KSKSKDKSKAJJSKSK CAN WE KEEP HIM
[Natalie]
I’m planning on it!
Seeing Felix is still preoccupied, I also open Google and set alerts for “Felix Song.” I never cared about what articles were written about him before—I actually got annoyed whenever his name or face popped into my social media feeds—but things are different now.
I want to know how he’s being covered in the press, and I especially need to know if any rumors are swirling.
I add alerts for “DAYDREAM” and the other members’ names, too. I didn’t know anything about the other boys before the tour, but now I consider them—with one current exception—close friends.
Once we’re outside, drinks in hand, Felix’s GPS tells him to turn left. Supposedly, we’ll arrive at our destination in ten minutes.
Felix slips his hand into mine, and I’m transported back to the gem hall—a similar mixture of hypervigilance and exhilaration sparks in me.
“I want to know more about you,” I blurt.
“Like what?” He quirks a brow, amused.
“Random stuff. What’s your favorite movie? Go-to karaoke song? Comfort food? What superpower would you want? Do you think hot dogs are sandwiches?”
A deep, hearty laugh escapes him. “Damn. Er … MAMMA MIA!; ‘Disaster’ by Conan Gray; doenjang-jjigae, which is a soybean stew; being fluent in every language; and absolutely not. I don’t care— —technicalities.”
I join his laughter. I wasn’t expecting him to answer rapid fire.
“My turn,” he says. “D’you sleep— —door open or closed?”
“Open, usually.”
“What?! That’s messed up. What if an axe murderer is creepin’ around?”
“I’m pretty sure a closed door wouldn’t deter them.”
“Famous last words of someone who gets axe murdered,” he tsks. “D’you believe in any conspiracy theories?”
“Quantum immortality. But it freaks me out to think about.”
He squints. “You’re freaked out by quantum immortality but not axe murderers? Interesting priorities.” I jab him in the side, and he laughs. “Would you rather have hair for teeth or teeth for hair?”
“Teeth for hair, I guess. How would you eat with hair teeth? Also sounds like a sensory nightmare.”
“D’you reckon you’d have to floss them?” he muses.
“Okay, you don’t get any more questions, you weirdo!” I exclaim with a chuckle.
Thankfully, we soon arrive at the park. It has a walkway lined with trees and boundless sky that stretches to every corner of the city. Billions of stars contrast against navy blue, dotted around as if an artist flicked paint onto a canvas.
We settle on a bench, and a beautiful peacefulness surrounds us. We could fill the empty space with deep conversation or snarky banter, but instead we let the night embrace us with purposeful, affectionate silence.
He wraps an arm around me. As I snuggle against him, I realize how hopelessly and overwhelmingly strong my feelings are. I’d never be able to describe what it’s like. There’s not a word for these emotions. There’s only Felix—a boy as infinite and radiant as the stars.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Felix’s silky voice grounds me in the moment. He takes off his mask to sip his hot chocolate.
I force myself off the cloud I was floating on. “Because you’re fun to look at.”
“I know tha—ow!” he exclaims as I jokingly flick his cheek. He releases me from under his arm and makes a show of rubbing the spot I hit, which is obviously horribly wounded. “Hey,” he says after dropping the act, “look at me.” He tucks his thumb under my chin and lifts my head.
My heart speeds up as he studies my face.
“Close your eyes,” he requests. “You have a loose eyelash.”
My eyes flutter shut, and when I open them, he extends two mascara-caked lashes toward me.
“Make a wish.”
“What is it with you and wishes?” I laugh.
He stops to think about it, looking up while he contemplates. “I’d like to think the universe is rooting for us. It wants our dreams to come true, but we need to share what those dreams are.”
“You can have my wish,” I tell him. “For the first time, it seems like Jo and I can create the Deaf Center we planned with Dad. And then there’s … well, you. I don’t want to get greedy with the Wish Gods.”
He beams at me and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. “You’re an angel … But unfortunately, I don’t think they’re transferable.”
There goes my cheesy moment! “Oh my god, blow on the damn eyelashes!”
He chuckles before squeezing his eyes shut, really thinking it through, then blows. They float into the darkness, along with whatever hopes and dreams he sent with them.
“Can I ask what you wished for, or is that against the privacy policy?” I joke. He stares into the night with a deep frown and, without looking, laces our fingers together.
“I wished I could tell the girl I love that I love her, without worrying about any consequences.”
The confession steals the air from my lungs.
“The girl I love.”
Is that what all these beautiful, messy, indescribable feelings are? Emotions knotted together so tightly you can’t possibly untangle them. Ones that make your head spin, body burn, and leave your thoughts muddled. A love with no limits.
I search for a reply, but nothing comes close to how I feel about him. In this moment, words and signs fail me. Losing track of everything else, I lurch forward and kiss him. It strips away everything—a vulnerable, heart-bared, every-possible-string-attached kiss.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Real, raw, perfect, with a touch of danger. It heals the wounds we’ve gotten and gives us strength for anything to come.
His hand slips into my pulled-up hood and onto my jaw, his cold fingers brushing through my hair, sending a shiver through me as they ghost over the skin behind my ear.
I slip mine beneath his hood, grip the back of his neck, and pull him closer because I can’t bear to be far from him, even for a second.
For a few precious minutes, the whole world fades away, but the spell is broken when he suddenly jerks away and scrambles to pull his hood back over his head, which must’ve fallen in the heat of the moment.
A drunk group stumbling through the park, raucously singing sea shanties, reminds me all too suddenly that we’re in public.
He grips my hand as they amble away. I nervously scan the park, but nobody else is in sight.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe once they’re gone. “I shouldn’t have kissed you in public.”
“Don’t be sorry, darling. But … maybe we should head back to the hotel.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
He plugs the address into his GPS, gets up, and pulls me to my feet with a tugging grin.
His phone feeds us directions, and my boy and I set off into the night, affection and desire crackling between us like a lightning storm.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
I sit bolt upright in bed, clutching the sheet to my body. I’ve almost convinced myself it was an axe murder–inspired dream—because who would knock so thunderously it wakes the Deaf girl from a dead sleep?—when Felix flicks the bedside lamp on, and his wild, fearful expression confirms it was real.
Another set of booming knocks rings out.
He slides out of bed and tracks down his sweatpants. I grab the clothes nearest to me, which turn out to be his purple-and-white sweater and my jeans.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
He heads for the door and hunches over to look through the peephole. The color drains from his face. “Get back.” Felix points to the bed since it’s not visible from the entryway.
I don’t move. It’s not fair to make him face whatever’s happening alone. “Go. Please!” The desperation in his voice is enough to convince me, and I rush to the bed, barely sitting on the edge, my heart racing.
From where I’m perched, I see light from the hallway flood into the room as the door opens. “How fucking stupid are you?!” a familiar, furious voice screams.