Page 73 of You Started It

“I know. But this is a good one.” Axel tips his forehead to mine and I rub my nose up against his.

“We heard you’re Axel’s videographer,” Finn says, breaking us out of our love trance. For a second, I almost forgot they were there.

“All I do is hold the tripod thingy. And yes, that is the official word for it.” I steal a glance at Axel. He’s got a huge smile on his face. I like being here with his friends and seeing a different side of him. And I like that he wanted me to see this side of him.

As the conversation continues, it becomes obvious that Finn and Diesel enjoy ripping on Axel for sport, but I’m pretty sure they’d skin me alive if I ever hurt him. It makes me jealous in a way. I’ve never experienced that kind of friendship with anyone.

Growing up, I floated around, never really finding “my people.” Looking back, I can see part of that was me protecting myself by not letting people in. My parents were teenagers when they had me. They had no idea what they were doing, and I guess that’s why I clung to Ben so hard after we met. Ben was stability. Something I’d never had.

Maybe Amo Eli is right. We take something from our past relationships and bring it into our next. If it weren’t for Ben, I wouldn’t be here now with Axel.

After chatting with Finn and Diesel for a while, over non-alcoholic drinks and greasy appetizers, I get them to spill all of Axel’s most embarrassing moments. Finn is in the middle of telling us a story about the time Axel got locked in the janitor’s closet with the school principal when the music cuts out. The stage lights turn on and a tall man wearing a red plaid shirt walks up to the mic. He introduces himself as Kit and welcomes everyone. He goes into a seemingly rehearsed bit describing how the karaoke portion of the evening works, then ends it by telling everyone that “Don’t Stop Believin,’ ” by Journey is banned from Kit’s Karaoke for the foreseeable future. It seems to get a mostly favorable response from the crowd. Although a few people do boo and jeer.

“So?” Diesel says, looking right at me. “Are you getting up there tonight?”

I swallow, shifting nervously in my seat. “Me? No. Definitely not. What about you?”

“Nah,” Diesel says. “But Finn should. He’s got a wicked set of pipes.”

“We’ll see,” Finn says, chewing on his thumbnail. “Not sure this crowd is my key demographic.”

“Right,” Axel laughs. “I doubt they have any songs from this century.”

“So why’d you bring me here?” I ask, feeling my eyebrows scrunch up. “If none of you plan on singing and this place doesn’t hold significance for any of you?”

“Does everything you do have to have deep meaning behind it?” Diesel asks in earnest.

“Yes. But I’m working on it,” I reply.

Axel runs a hand up and down my back. He glances at his phone again before tossing another reassuring smile my way.

As the night progresses, something becomes very clear: the people at Kit’s Karaoke Dive take their performances prettyseriously. It’s as if they’re living out some dream to be a rock star they didn’t quite get to as teens. Makes me kind of sad, actually. I don’t want to live my life with regrets, but I guess I already do in some ways.

Applause breaks me out of my thoughts, as does Axel’s face nuzzling my neck. “Having fun?” he asks.

“I always have fun when I’m with you. You’re my fun-maker.”

“Good. I hope it’ll always be that way.” He places a soft, gentle kiss on my lips. As we pull apart, I decide to ask Axel about the DM he sent Olivia. Just to clear the air and make sure there are no more lingering doubts, but then the next song begins.

“Oh god,” I say, pulling back.

“What is it?” Axel’s eyebrows pinch together.

“This song.”

“What song is it?” Finn asks.

“ ‘The Flame’ by Cheap Trick. It’s my parents’ ‘song,’ ” I say, barely containing an eyeroll.

“Aww. It’s got a nice vibe,” Diesel says.

“It’s just…” The all-too-familiar voice that comes out over the speakers causes a chill to pass through my entire body. It transports me to my childhood home, sitting on the floor of our kitchen with linoleum tiles peeling up at the corners. A yellow halo from the light fixture glows over my parents, who are holding onto one another tightly while they dance. Dad sings into Mom’s ear and she blushes, smiling wide. They sway back and forth while I watch this moment I know will be fleeting. So fleeting that instead of it bringing me joy, it fills me with dread. Because I know it can (and will) be over in an instant.

My heart leaps into my throat as I lock eyes with the man on stage. He sings as if this is the most important moment of his life, gripping both hands around the microphone. One corner of his mouth turns up in an apprehensive smile.

Dad.

I sit up straight in my seat, frozen in time and place, watching my father sing to me. My father, who I haven’t seen in over three years, haven’t spoken to since the day he left, is currently standing a few feet away, almost within arm’s reach. It’s as if it’s just the two of us in this dark bar. Maybe he’s not even real. He could be a mirage.

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