Chapter 8
EIGHT
THE SONG OF REALITY
SEBASTIAN
Alex didn’t look at me when we disposed of all the evidence of what we had done, nor when we got dressed again. The smell of sex still lingered in the air.
“Want me to pop open the window?” I asked.
“Sure,” Alex replied, struggling to fasten the button on his pants.
I slipped into my shirt, took the three steps to the window, and opened it a crack. My fingers ran through my hair, trying to straighten it, but it was tricky without a mirror.
“Does my hair look okay?”
He peeked up from his fly and took me in with wide eyes. Then his face softened. “Like nothing ever happened.”
We held each other’s gaze and exchanged a quick, knowing smile. No matter how hard we tried to maintain appearances for everyone else, we knew the truth. And we’d both carry this secret like a treasure.
“How about me?” Alex ran his hands over his shirt and straightened his back. He tucked his hair behind his ears, smiling as if he were about to have his picture taken. His shirt was a little wrinkled in the front, but not enough to draw attention.
“Like nothing ever happened,” I quoted him.
Alex nodded and rolled his shoulders as if he was preparing for a fight before stepping to the door. “Operation Air Matress is ready to go.”
That was the one thing we had to do: set up a second bed.
As much as I would have liked to just share his for the night, we needed to put on a little show for everyone else, so no one would notice what happened.
Neither of us said it, but we were both wary of the questions that would follow if anyone found out.
He pressed his ear to the door, listening for a few seconds, then opened it and casually walked out. I stuck my head into the hallway and glanced left and right to see if anyone was around, then realized how suspicious that would look if anyone had actually been out there.
Before I could overthink it, I stepped out into the hallway and followed Alex upstairs to the third floor.
The attic—which wasn’t really an attic but an unfinished, spare room we used for storage—was next to my parents’ bedroom. Their door was closed, but light shone through the gap beneath.
While I slowed my pace, Alex moved ahead without a care.
He flicked on the light in the attic and let out a sigh at the sight of a thousand boxes and junk covered with tarps.
His eyes wandered over a shelf on the left, while mine fell on three boxes in the back that had “Devin” written in bold letters across them.
Out of curiosity, I trudged over. The top of the uppermost box was just loosely placed on, and when I lifted it, a wooden frame stared up at me.
It was a picture of Dad and me, grinning at the camera.
Dad was sitting on a boulder, while I stood next to him with my hand on his shoulder.
A cloudy mountain range lay behind us, indistinct and blurred.
Yet, I knew right away where this had been taken.
This picture of us on top of Mount Mitchell, the highest peak on the Appalachian Trail, used to hang on the wall above my desk when I still lived here.
We took it on my eighteenth birthday, but I didn’t get to look at it for long because only three months later, I moved out.
“There it is,” Alex announced, hoisting a rolled-up bag onto the floor. “I don’t remember the air mattress being that heavy, though.” He laughed, but it died off quickly when he looked at me. “What did you find?”
I held the frame up. “My dad and I on my eighteenth birthday.”
Alex left the mattress alone and shuffled over to take a look.
“We used to go hiking a lot,” I explained. Since we lived in “the heart” of the Appalachian Mountains, as the old town sign still claims, we had made it our unspoken goal to hike through all of it.
“Looks like you had a fun day,” Alex said, leaning closer.
“It was super strenuous.” My fingers trailed along the frame. “Dad cursed so much during the last mile. But once we were at the top, he’d already forgotten all about it and acted like it had been a breeze.”
“Well, at least now we know you were cute back then, too.” Alex looked at me, then back at the photo. “Yep, I totally would’ve dated you if we’d known each other back then.”
“As if. Have you seen all the pimples I had?”
“We all had them. No need to be embarrassed.” He pulled his head back and walked over to the air mattress.
I stared after him for a moment, then took another look at the picture and put it back in the box.
As fun as that day had been, the times when my dad and I could easily spend hours walking together were long gone—although I had to admit my view of him had changed a little today.
Thanks to the video Alex had shown me, I now knew he still had a more relaxed side, too.
We just weren’t at a point where he could show it to me again.
“Don’t want to take the picture with you?” Alex asked. He lifted the mattress bag and shuffled toward the door, his fingers hovering over the light switch.
“Not today.” I closed the box up again and hurried toward him.
He flipped off the light as I stepped outside. Of course, right at that moment, Dad came around the corner.
“Careful.” His right eyebrow shot up as he looked past me at Alex. “Setting up another bed, I see?” He turned to me. “Did you find a room to stay in?”
I straightened my back. “Alex was kind enough to let me stay with him.”
“Is that so?” He turned to Alex. “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Not at all. It’s the best solution for everyone.”
“It is a solution,” Dad said, his cryptic reply letting an awkward silence settle between us. No one said anything until he turned away. “Anyway, Laura and I are going to bed. See you two at breakfast.”
He gave each of us another probing glance and then retreated into the master bedroom.
The thud of the closing door left me frozen for a moment.
My throat tightened. If only Dad and I could go back to that moment I’d just seen in the picture and start over.
Maybe things would be easier now. I held on to that thought for another second before shaking it off.
“Let’s set this up before everyone goes to sleep,” I said. “If I remember correctly, the compressor’s pretty loud.”
Alex insisted that I go to the bathroom while he set up the bed. We had one of those back-and-forth discussions where we went in circles about who didn’t want to be a bother and how it wasn’t a big deal. Ultimately, though, Alex won.
Even in the shower, I could hear the compressor pumping air into the mattress all the way downstairs.
When I came back, freshened up for the night, the house had gone quiet. Only a few clicks echoed through the room as Alex sat at his laptop, already working on our song again.
The mattress was pushed right up against his bed. It was only half as high, but the neatly arranged pillow and blanket made it look inviting enough.
The moment he saw me, Alex jumped up and hurried past me, giving me a quick smile. He grabbed some clothes from the dresser and headed for the downstairs bathroom, too.
While he was gone, I peeled off my shirt and pants until I was down to my underwear and slipped under the blanket.
It was funny to me how things sometimes turned out. I was in my own room and still sleeping in the guest bed.
I lay there, losing myself in thoughts about everything that had happened over the last few hours, until the door softly opened. Alex stepped back inside, now wearing red shorts and a white tank top.
“Is the mattress comfy?” he asked as he locked the door. “Anything else you need?”
“All good.” I tucked the blanket under my arms, folding my hands on my chest. “Thanks.”
He crouched in front of his laptop, clicked around a few more times, and then closed it.
Turning his back to me, he took off his shirt and tossed it onto the dresser before climbing into the bed next to me and switching off the light on his nightstand.
A few streaks from the fairy lights in the cherry tree outside fell onto the ceiling, painting little dots on it that looked like stars.
Alex shifted around a bit, trying to get his blanket right, but eventually the silence settled in. A pair of feet shuffled down the hallway, but they too faded with the soft thud of a closing door.
We both stared at the ceiling. Even though I had gotten ready for the night, I wasn’t tired at all, despite getting up early and spending five hours on a plane. Not to mention that it felt like this morning had already happened weeks ago.
“This feels like summer camp,” I whispered.
“Does it?” he whispered back. “I’ve never been to one.”
“Yeah, totally. Although for the real thing, we’d need six more boys in the room.”
I turned onto my side, facing him as he lay there fifteen inches higher than me. He did the same thing, looking down at me. He flattened his pillow and held it in place with his palm, resting his temple on the back of his hand.
“How is it down there?” he asked.
“I can’t complain. The view’s nice.”
Alex bit his tongue, trying to hold back a chuckle, but it eventually broke through. “You’re silly. But I guess that’s in line with the summer camp vibe?” He blinked down at me. “The view from up here is even better.”
My gaze drifted to his lips. “Hard to believe.”
Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again. He lifted his head briefly, causing his hair to slip out from behind his ears. He tucked the strand back with his fingers. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“How does someone like you not have a boyfriend? Is dating in Las Vegas that bad?”
I rolled onto my back and hid my face behind my hands. “Don’t ask. I’ve given up on that a long time ago.”
“That bad?”
“It’s horrible. Most people either just want to hook up, or they say they want something more, but stop responding the minute you ask for a second date. I’m telling you, it’s probably easier to find a boyfriend in Seastone.”