Page 21 of Fragile

Seb stands too and pats Miles’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. Don’t forget that.”

I extend my other hand in a fist like I always do. “First down.”

He hesitates, and my heart stutters, but then, his hand gently knocks against mine. “All the way,” he whispers, with a ghost of a smirk. It doesn’t matter that it lacks his usual conviction; he said it, and that means he hears us.

Miles drops my hands and says, “Give me a second to finish getting dressed, and I’ll meet you out there.”

***

We walk Miles back to his dorm, where he tells us about a thousand times he will be fine and to leave him be. My brothercan clearly sense my hesitation because he puts a hand on my shoulder, directing me to face him as soon as he closes the door.

“We’ll leave him tonight. I want to come with you to see Indie quickly, and then I’ll come back here and be across the hall. It’s fine, Quinn.”

I nod, but I’m distracted.

How can I be okay with leaving him when he feels so low? How am I meant to sleep, knowing he is hurting? More importantly, how can I take that pain from him? I can’t, and I know he needs time, but it makes me ache.

As we get to my dorm, the faint hum of music greets us. Paramore, I realize.

“I told her to go home and wait for us,” Seb states, as if hearing my thoughts.

Opening my door, I see Indie sitting on her desk chair. “Hey,” she says, putting her book down. “How is he?”

“He’s feeling like shit,” Seb sighs as he runs a hand over his hair. “I’m hoping he just needs sleep.” Walking over to Indie, he gently kisses her temple.

“I’m worried about him,” I say, finally vocalizing my thoughts. “I don’t think he’s been himself this year.”

Seb sprawls out on Indie’s bed. “Things haven’t been easy for him. Mark is a piece of work. I’ll get his head on straight, though.”

“Hmm.” I acknowledge what my brother is saying, but everything in my body and mind is telling me that I need to do more, to figure out how I can help him. “I’m going to shower.”

I wash off the game and the whole day, trying to think of scenarios and things I can do to lift his mood. It all feels superficial now, because this, what his dad said tonight, those things can’t be taken back. They’re permanent.

With a sigh, I reach for my towel, quickly dress, and return to my room within ten minutes. Seb is still on Indie’s bed, but she’smoved to be next to him now. I put my cheer outfit to one side and begin brushing my hair, my thoughts still on Miles. Always on him.

“Soooo,” Indie begins in a tone that I rarely hear from her. It snaps my head up, and I turn to face them on the other side of the room, curiosity piqued.

“Why does that ‘soooo’ feel fully loaded?” I narrow my eyes at her.

She flicks her tongue over her lip ring rhythmically before answering, a habit when she’s nervous. “I know the timing isn’t great, but I might’ve found you a date.”

For a moment, I’m frozen, processing the information. Then, a million questions flood my brain. None of which I have the energy to ask. “Oh?”

“He’s in my music class. You might know him. He took the same AP Calc class as you last year. He’s six feet tall. He’s nice, a little quiet, plays the cello, is super talented, and his name is Alex.”

My hands instantly go clammy, and I place my brush down, wringing my fingers together, unsure how to deal with the anxiety that’s suddenly racing through me. “I don’t remember an Alex, but maybe I’d know him if I saw him?” My feet trace the length of our room and back again. I don’t know how to feel about actually going on a date. We talked about it, and it was all my idea, but actually knowing someone is interested, and it could happen, that’s scary. It feels final, like I’m somehow betraying something that never actually existed between Miles and me. Which is completely insane to even think of us as awe. He is him and I’m me. There’s no us.

No matter the timing of it, I can’t help but feel like this is my opportunity to move on. To stop obsessing over someone who doesn’t have a clue about how I feel.

Turning to face them, I notice Seb’s lack of enthusiasm. Indie’s influence, no doubt. “And you don’t have anything to say about this?” I ask him.

His gaze briefly flits to me, but Indie cuts in. “Tell her how happy you are.” Her death stare, usually reserved for when Jay and Hudson bicker, makes even my brother shudder.

When his eyes meet mine, the same color reflects back at me. His mouth firmly placed into a forced smile that fools no one. “Thrilled,” he grits out, and I have to curl my lips inwards to stop a bellowing laugh from escaping.

Indie sighs loudly. “He is happy for you.”

“Absolutely.” I chuckle. “And you’re not going to butt in at any point, right?”

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