Page 8 of Our Final Encore

That ended the crush pretty abruptly.

This, however, feels different. Not saying I think that Alex likes me, I’m sure he doesn’t, but at the very least he wants to be my friend. And he’s not too disgusted by me to touch my hand.

When he asked me if I wanted to come over, part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Probably because most of the time when a guy doesn’t completely ignore me, he’s saying something mean.

He shows me how to twist my wrist. “Then you just let go. Try it.”

He backs away, and finally I feel like I can breathe again. Once I’ve caught my breath and returned to reality, I do what he showed me. The rock lands on the water, then skitters across the lake the same way his did. My mouth drops open in shock.

“You did it!” He holds his hand up to give me a high five, his face lights up with a brilliant smile. I can’t help but mirror the expression, slapping my hand against his.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” I laugh. “Thanks for teaching me.”

“You’re welcome, bluebird.”

I swing my head in his direction. “Bluebird? What does that mean?”

He looks surprised, like maybe he didn’t mean to call me that. “You just remind me of a bluebird…for some reason.”

The air between us crackles with something similar to awkwardness, but not quite the same. I’m completely confused about why he’d call me that, but I don’t hate it.

“Did your dad teach you how to do that?”

He scoffs and it’s just barely audible, but I don’t miss it. “No. My brother did.”

I decide to ignore the hint of aggression that he seems to have towards his dad, hoping not to upset him. “That’s cool. How old is he?”

His shoulders seem to slump suddenly, and his eyes flick to the other side of the pond, a faraway look overtaking them. “He would be eighteen now. He died last year.”

My stomach lurches.He died?No wonder he didn’t want me touching his guitar… Oh god, I feel horrible for bringing up the subject.

“I’m so sorry, Alex… Do you want to talk about it?”

His gaze swings over to mine, and I notice how his green eyes almost perfectly match the mossy shade of the water in front of us. “You might be the first person who’s ever asked me that.”

“Asked you what?”

“Do I want to talk about it? No, I don’t, but people always assume that I do. That I want to share every detail about the situation just because I bring it up. They act like I owe them an explanation about how he died.” He bends down and picks up another rock. This one skips two times. “Thanks for not assuming.” A tiny grin plays on his lips, and I automatically mirror the expression.

“You’re welcome.”

“So, I guess your parents don’t care that you come down here by yourself?”

“My mom doesn’t care, my grandma doesn’t know.”

“You live with your grandma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met him.” I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping he won’t press the issue any further. Generally I try not to even share that information with people, but since he told me something personal it felt like fair game.

A grimace forms between his brows. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s cool. I don’t really care,” I say breezily. The lie comes out so smoothly that even I believe it at this point. Why should I care? I never knew the guy anyway.

“If it makes you feel any better, my mom took off after Ezra died. So it’s just Dad and I.”

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