Page 106 of With a Little Luck

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Hey! Just out of curiosity, have you seen the new Marvel movie yet?

Not casual enough.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Surprise! I have major romantic-y feelings for you. Text Y if you feel the same way. Text N to stop receiving these texts.

Delete. Delete. So much delete.

Was thinking of going to karaoke tomorrow. Wanna go?

Unnnnnnngggghh.269

I must have typed a hundred different texts into my phone these past few days, but nothing sounds right. Everything sounds either too cheesy or too serious or not serious enough. It’s either too chill or it’s too intense, like I will be positively devastated if she rejects me.

I keep reminding myself that this isn’t a declaration of love. This is just a friend … asking out another friend … to see if maybe we could become something more than friends.

No big deal.

But every time I’m about to hit send, my insides squeeze and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck and I delete the text as fast as I can.

And this isAri. I’ve texted Ari so many times. Hell, I’ve probably sent a thousand textsjust like this—inviting her to movies and dinner and—well, not karaoke. Ari’s the one who always drags me and Pru along to karaoke night. Like it’sno big deal. Because it’s not!

And yet I see Ari now whenever I close my eyes. The way her gaze darted to my mouth when I was sure I wanted to kiss her. When I was sure, however briefly, that she wanted me to.

My pulse stutters, just like it did then. My skin flushes. My mouth goes dry.

And I hate this. I hate that these inconvenient emotions have made me nervous to talk to Ari.Ari, of all people. It’s unnatural. Ari, Pru, and I have been attached to each other since seventh grade. We’ve ridden our bikes countless times up and down the boardwalk. Shopped for matching Halloween costumes (my personal fav: Mario, Luigi, and Princess Peach, and yeah, Pru really rocked that mustache). We’ve fought over the armrests in the movie theater—and rubbed elbows on my own couch at home, and onhercouch, for that matter. Hell, this is the girl who hasliterally slept in my bed.

I mean, I wasn’t in it with her, but still. That’s a thing that has happened, more than once.

I’m just about to gather my courage and hit send (no seriously, I’m270going to do it this time), when a new email notification pops up. I’m only too happy for the distraction, so I click over right away, and—

Oh.

Hello Jude, thank you for your recent submission. I’m afraid it is not right for us at this time, but please do keep us in mind for future submissions.

Best,

Ralph Tigmont

Art Director, theDungeon

I read through it once and instantly hit delete.

I’m disappointed, but not surprised. I hadn’t really expected them to take the drawing of Araceli the Magnificent onstage at the Condor Music Festival. If anything, the rejection has me feeling numb. Almost … resigned.

Shoulders slumping, I set my phone aside and try to return to my work, which I was actually making great progress on until I got waylaid by a rush of inspiration to text Ari and ask her on a not-a-date that has the potential to turn into a date, but that clearly isn’t working out for me, so—back to the task at hand.

The website DIYVinyl.com popped up along with the influx of newsletters and promotions that have been pouring into my inbox since my flurry of sweepstakes entering. It’s a service for printing your own vinyl records, promising quality sound and quick delivery. I’ve never given much thought to what goes into producing an actual vinyl album, but they’ve made the process pretty easy so far.

So this is my newest brilliant idea.

I will make Ari an album. I will have it printed and shipped in time for Record Store Day. I will surprise my dad with an exclusive record to sell at Ventures, I will surprise the world with the very first Araceli Escalante271song collection, and I will surprise Ari with this thing that she may not even know she wants, but I really, really think she is going to like.

This is my big gesture. My silent declaration.

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