Chapter 34. In Which Two Galaxies Collide, and the Gravitational Fields Either Result in Their MergingSimply Passing
IN WHICH TWO GALAXIES COLLIDE, AND THE GRAVITATIONAL FIELDS EITHER RESULT IN THEIR MERGING OR SIMPLY PASSING EACH OTHER BY
The best way to temporarily escape Mom and Dad is to return to the cabin, where only brAIN personnel are allowed access. So, that’s exactly what I do.
When I show up, no one is inside. They’re still at the amphitheater, witnessing Luca win what he deserves and catching up with family who have come to support them despite the bumps in their relationships.
Then they’ll leave, dispersing throughout the nation, and we’ll likely never cross paths again.
It’s strange, standing in the silence of the cabin after a month full of chatter and laughter and noise.
As I walk over to sit by my bunk and pull my suitcase out from my cubby, leaves rustle beyond the window, and floorboards creak beneath my feet.
If I listen close enough, fragments of our late-night talks echo around the room.
The plans we made to prepare for our weekly team tests.
Even our many miscommunications that led to arguments.
Everything that made this island so different from anything I ever expected.
I’ll miss these voices.
The door swings open behind me. I startle.
Benedict, Jade, and Christiana.
“My mom is staying behind to talk to Langston’s dad and try to get an investment out of him,” Christiana says on a sigh. “So I guess I can take my time packing.”
“My sister did the same thing to me!” Jade says. “She keeps saying she’ll be a failure if she comes home without a rich husband tonight.”
They finally spot me by my bunk, suitcase at my side.
So, the voices were real. A good thing for my psyche. “The awards ceremony is already over?” I ask them.
“Yeah,” Jade says. She frowns. “Where the hell were you?”
I shrug indifferently to cover up how my heart aches, having to miss Luca’s grand win. “I didn’t want to compete.”
Benedict walks up to my side, judgmentally assessing my luggage. “So, that’s it? You’re just leaving?”
“He won,” I say quietly. “He’s happy. That’s all I care about.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I mean, I wish things could be different, but—”
“You have to dramatically chase after him,” Christiana says across the room.
“What?” I shake my head. “You guys don’t get it. I’ve hurt him way too much. I was an asshole, caring more about Prince List—”
“Don’t chase him as Prince List Rory, then,” Christiana says, her voice higher than I’ve ever heard from her before. “Chase him as Just Rory. The Rory we know.”
“That’s the only Rory we like, anyway,” Jade says, picking at her nails.
I stare back at them. They’re not giving me compliments or telling me why I deserve him. In fact, they’re dispensing soul-crushing insults.
But they’re insults of who I used to be. I don’t have to fear what will happen once I shed my old self, because I already have. Now I’m Just Rory. The one who ripped apart a project board and who told his parents how exhausted he is.
The one who spent days trying and failing to crack the mystery behind Luca’s slap shot on the ice, even after dedicating a whole notebook to my findings and analyzing every inch of his strength, which seems to still never be enough.
Unless.
My brain suddenly feels more open. Like I can weigh my thoughts without being bogged down by a million others that criticize me and insist that I’m wrong.
Of course. When Luca reduced his stick flex from 85 to 75, he lowered its stiffness, which directly reduced the amount of elastic energy the stick can store during the slap shot.
That’s how the physics would work, right?
At least, when the elastic energy stored in the stick is given by E = 1–2kx2, where k is stiffness and x is how much the stick bends.
The problem isn’t that Luca isn’t strong enough. He’s too strong. Overloading the stick and causing it to over-flex.
I stand up. I have to tell him all of it. The part of me that was telling me to stay away is getting quieter and quieter. Until all that’s left is Just Rory.
“Did Luca leave already?” I ask the cabin.
Jade and Benedict shrug.
“I saw him heading toward the ice arena with his mom,” Christiana says. “He had his luggage with him.”
Before he leaves, he would want to show his mom the arena that helped him finally feel like he belonged here. How long would that tour realistically take?
He might already be heading back to Long Island.
I run past the three on a whirlwind of hope, heading there as fast as I can.
Luca deserves to know this now. Before the magic we had here is in the past. And because he isn’t an afterthought—Luca has never been an afterthought. Not during all these years. He’s been on my mind. Constantly.
He’s mattered. He matters.
The path leading back toward Lake River Amphitheater comes into view. So does Mom, yelling to some poor soul on her phone. Once she spots me, her eyes blow out wide.
“Rory!” she shouts, her nose flaring in the telltale way that means she’s beyond enraged. “Where have you—”
I run past her, continuing for the arena. Right now, Prince List doesn’t matter.
“Come back here!” she yells.
I ignore her, rushing through the double doors and the lobby, and then finally into the rink.
Luca is on the ice. No hockey gear. Not even a fleece. Just the jeans and T-shirt he was wearing for the contest, his skates laced neatly up his ankles. His mom and sister are missing. Maybe they went to the Food Laboratory or the bathroom.
A sigh heaves out of me.
He’s here.
“You’re too strong!” I shout from the top of the bleachers.
Luca startles and turns around.
“You’re overloading your stick,” I call out, racing down the bleacher steps until I reach him at the boards. “You’re using the same force you did on your eighty-five flex, but that’s wrong when you do the math.”
“Huh?” Luca calls back, skating my way.
I jump over the boards. The moment my dress shoes hit the ice, they slip and slide around, but I don’t even try to catch my balance. I sway and tilt my way to Luca as quickly as I can.
His eyes bug out. “Whoa, you’re gonna get hurt.”
I don’t stop. Not until I’m standing in front of him.
Then I count on my fingers to help me mentally divide up my earlier equations.
“At least, I think, when you combine the stick’s collision data.
Your stick is softer now, so it’s causing your extra swing energy to be lost to excess bending and vibration and heat instead of being stored efficiently as elastic energy. ”
“Hold on—”
“I even figured out the equation to prove it.” If Luca speaks before I can get this out, then he might tell me to go away, to leave him alone.
He can’t. I just need this last shot. “The elastic energy stored in the stick would be given by E equals … Well, I can’t really put into words what the equation is. But where—”
“Rory,” Luca says, holding up a hand.
“Where E is basically half of the stiffness multiplied by how the stick bends.”
“Hey. Rory.”
“So, you should really be focusing on blade-tip velocity and angling, which I just learned about, and it’s…” What is it again?
I can’t remember. I try to bring up my hands to count again, as if this will somehow help, but they shake too much.
My hands get snatched up by Luca.
His eyes are wide, almost shocked. That’s when I realize how much my knees feel like they’ll buckle any moment, and how much my own eyes are burning. “Why are you thinking about this? This doesn’t involve you at all.”
“I’ve been trying to figure it out. Your slap shot.”
“You have?”
“I wanted to help you. You care about it so much. I had a whole notebook dedicated to it, but then your cabin shot it out into the lake.”
His mouth parts, but he doesn’t respond. I’m not sure how to read it.
It revs up my nerves more. “I was only able to figure out the answer now, so I’m sorry.” My voice trembles. I suck in a sharp breath to try to make it stop, but it’s impossible. “I still wanted to tell you because we might never see each other again, so—”
Luca wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in with a sweeping force.
Then his lips are on mine. Warm, strong, and unrelenting. It’s like magnetism, the way our bodies crash together.
I gasp as I grab his face in both my hands, pulling him even closer. It’s not just one kiss—it’s so many, too many, like he’s making up for lost time.
And I let him. I let him take whatever he desires after the trouble I caused, losing myself in the rise and fall of our rib cages, his familiar woodsy notes, and his hand still gripping on to me like he’ll never let go, keeping me warm.
Luca pulls back, his lips traveling toward my ear. “Thank you.”
A shiver races through my spine. “You haven’t tested my theory with a new stick yet. I could be wrong.”
“That’s not what I’m thanking you for.”
“Oh,” I say, my heartbeat pounding. Our bodies have been this close before, yet this time, it feels different. Like he’s even closer. Maybe because in the past, I knew it was temporary. Not this time. Not anymore. “Why?”
“For caring about me.” He strokes the back of my head, threading his fingers through my hair. “More than anyone else ever has, I think. Ironically enough.”
I do care about him. But I have no clue what to do with these feelings. I have no clue how loving someone is supposed to go.
“But I have no clue what I’m doing,” I say. “And I feel so selfish for thinking that you could ever forgive me.”
“I have no clue what I’m doing, either.” A corner of his lip quirks up. “You know I’ve been waiting for you. I forgave you before you even asked.”
Mom and Dad step through the double doors of the arena.
Their voices echo through the rink as they argue, but it’s a jumble as they talk over each other.
Mom is wildly tossing around her hands, and Dad’s own are tucked into his pockets like he wishes he could sink into the dirt and become one with the worms. They don’t notice Luca and me at first, too wrapped up in their world.
Dad sees us first and stops. Clearly stunned. But then he softens. Like he’s been waiting for this moment. Maybe not with Luca specifically, but just for me to seem happy.
When Mom’s eyes fall upon us, her body locks. She starts to storm our way.
Dad extends a hand, stopping her, and shakes his head.
She argues wordlessly, but he gently guides her out of the rink. The door clicks shut behind them.
My own eyes widen.
“Your mom?” Luca asks, inspecting the door like they might come back any second.
“She’s not the happiest right now,” I say, ignoring the way my abdomen twists. I tug on Luca’s wrist so he focuses back on me.
“Looks like your dad stopped her.”
“Yeah.” I’ve never felt so appreciative toward Dad before. “I’m surprised.”
“Maybe you’re not the only one who’s changing.”
“That sounds impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible. You fixed my slap shot.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure.”
Luca steps closer, wrapping me in another hug. His arms are so sturdy around me, and nothing has ever felt more right.
“Just promise me, Rory,” he says into the crook of my ear. “Promise that you won’t break my heart again.”
“I could never,” I whisper back. Immediately, all the tension caused by Mom and Dad melts out of my body.
Someday, I’ll feel this way all the time, regardless of Luca’s presence. If there’s anything he’s taught me, it’s that I can make this a reality. Without The Plan.
I won’t let my parents determine my happiness any longer.
I pull out of Luca’s embrace. Look him in the eyes. “I love you, Luca.”
He abruptly leans back. “What?”
“What?”
“You just told me that you love me.”
“Well, I do.” Insecurity clings to every fiber of my being. “Is that not okay?”
Luca blinks at me in shock.
Then he laughs. He laughs so hard that it echoes through the rink louder than any of his slap shots. He intertwines our fingers and brings them to his lips, kissing the back of my hand.
“What?” I say, trying not to cave into a puddle.
“You say statements so matter-of-factly sometimes that it leaves me stunned.”
“Is that bad?”
“No. No.” Luca closes the space between us once more. “It’s why I’ve been in love with you all these years, too.”
My chest blossoms. Glows.
Because he understands me.
Just Rory.
Finally, after so many years, I understand him, too.