Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
CLARK
They said graduation would be emotional. I never would have thought they meant emotionally compromised, mildly sunburnt, and overtly turned on while sweating my balls off in polyester. Yet, here we are.
People keep slapping me on the back like I just solved the Rubik’s Cube.
No, Ted from philosophy, I didn’t crush it out there, I walked across the stage, didn’t trip when I saw the girl of my dreams staring at me, and then scooped her up and kissed her like she was the world to me.
That, there, would’ve been a better outcome.
As I made direct eye contact with Rachel, it was like a spiritual experience.
Let’s talk about that, shall we?
Rachel kissed me, and I kissed her back. We kissed like it was the most natural thing in the world. At the Limelight. In front of strobe lights and a disco ball, in a place that was packed to the gills and was definitely a fire hazard.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a moment. The kind of thing that rewires your entire brain and makes you rethink every thought you ever had and wonder if this was all I’ve been waiting for.
And then…it was over, and we’re both acting as if nothing happened.
She ghosted me without technically ghosting me. Not a peep, not a word, not even a casual, “Remember when we kissed?” in a joking manner. Which, honestly, would not have helped the longing in my heart.
I kept waiting for a sign. For that look, that moment to come back. But all I’ve gotten is the silent treatment. We had lunch with the parents today before graduation, and she avoided me as if I had a face full of acne and the odor of a jock who forgot to use deodorant.
Until the moment I walked across the stage. I felt her eyes on me. When I looked her way, I saw it. She was saying, “I absolutely did kiss you, and now I’m panicking because while I want you more than ever, I don’t want to betray my best friend.”
And I get it. I do.
However, I’m ready to burst into flames. Not from the heat of the day or the sun scorching this black robe, it’s because I see the heat in her eyes, wanting to go against everything we both hold dear.
It takes everything in me not to run over to her and scoop her up. To take what we both want.
Maybe, after this day is over, I can walk over and just casually talk to her. But how do you do that when your most recent interaction involves tongue and years of unresolved sexual tension?
The answer is, you don’t.
So I did what any emotionally stunted, slightly panicked man does. I continued to walk across the stage, trying my best to look like I did not have a care in the world and that I was there to rule it.
I’m in this weird in-between state now. Half of me wants to yell, “What did it mean, Rachel?” while the other half wants to kiss her again, this time without a disco ball spinning above us and not a soul witnessing the connection we have.
And then, I look to my sister, Clara. God, Clara. My twin, my ride or die, my biggest hype girl, and, inconveniently, the person whose best friend I’m fantasizing about.
What would she do if she knew? Probably something like, “Seriously? Rachel? I was wondering when you two would finally snap?” Wishful thinking, I know.
She’s more than likely set me on fire. Make me burn for tearing our family and friendships apart.
It’s a twin thing, I know she’d feel that way. It’s what I tell myself every day.
I scan the post-ceremony chaos. Graduates are hugging, families are sobbing, champagne is popping, though it’s likely not allowed on campus, no one cares, we’re graduates.
I spot Rachel near the edge of the crowd, half-listening to some overly enthusiastic woman, wearing sequins at three in the afternoon. She’s smiling politely, but her eyes are wandering, searching for something. Or someone. Could it be me?
She hasn’t spotted me yet, so I take a deep breath and fix my cap. I’d like to remove it, but I’m sure the ‘rents are going to want more pictures. My palms are sweating, and not from the heat of the day.
Just as I’m about to make my move, Clara jumps in front of me like a caffeinated jack-in-the-box.
“There you are!” she yells, flinging her arms around me. “Did you see me cheer? I almost blacked out from the effort. I also think I pulled a muscle from whistling. You can do that, you know.”
I laugh and hug her back. “You’ve got lungs like a foghorn, sis. The entire city heard you.”
Clara pulls away and squints at me. “You look weird. Like you’re hiding something.”
Twintuition. It’s a real thing.
Crap.
I give her my best innocent face. “Define weird,” I tell her, hoping to lighten this up.
“It’s like,” she tilts her head and studies me harder, finger on her lips, “like you’re about to tell me you’ve joined a cult or are deciding not to complete law school.”
“Jesus, Clara.” I laugh, and my mood completely lightens.
She narrows her eyes at me, playfully. “It’s the cult, isn’t it?”
I shake my head, trying to act casual while Rachel is only ten feet away, and my soul is trying to pull itself out of my body to be closer to her.
Clara starts hammering on about post-graduation plans and some rooftop party happening later, and I just nod along, but I’m only half listening.
Because my ears keep drifting back to Rachel. Listening hard to just get a note of her melodic voice.
I peek her way when I don’t hear her any longer and notice her eyes are on me, nothing in between us.
I can feel it in the way she stares at me. Everything is about to change.