Page 78 of With a Little Luck

Then a tiny wrinkle forms between Maya’s eyebrows. She opens her mouth, looking like she has bad news. Terrible news. Looking like she is about to break my heart.

“We should probably hurry,” I say. “They’ll wonder where we are.”200

Maya hesitates. Regret and uncertainty.

Then she starts to smile. A knowing, polite smile.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

We start to make our way back through the festival and … crap, crap, crap. Can we rewind? Pretend that never happened? Can I get a do-over? But what good would that do me when I have absolutely no idea what just went wrong? We had music. We had the aroma of cinnamon and sugar. We hadmeandherand six years of yearning …

Maybe I’m overreacting.

I’m definitely overreacting.

It’s not like it wasbad.

It wasn’t bad. I don’t think.

Was it bad? Am I a bad kisser? These things take practice, right? There are bound to be some road bumps. Not knowing which way to tilt your head, or what to do when your noses smash together, and yeah, in my nervousness, I maybe moved a little too fast, and I should take my time and go slower, and next time I will go slower, and …

Is there going to be a next time?

Yep, I’m definitely overthinking this. For all I know, Maya thinks it was a perfectly sufficient first kiss.

But maybe—whispers a small and very annoying voice—maybe it isn’t just about what Maya thinks.Maybe the bigger problem is that I didn’t feel what I thought I would feel. What I think I should have felt.

What is wrong with me?

The fortune teller’s words come back to me, an unhelpful whisper.Your aura is very divided.What does that even mean?

“There,” says Maya, pointing. I hadn’t realized we’d made it to the Albatross Stage until I spy Ezra standing near a curtained-off section to the side of the crowd, holding Ari’s guitar case. The stage is crowded with the Latinx group, which boasts a full horn section and a bunch of percussion instruments I don’t even know the name of. The crowd all around us is dancing to the high-energy music.

“Ezra, hey,” I say, glancing around. “Where’s Ari?”201

“Getting changed.” He juts a thumb toward the curtains, and as if on cue, the fabric shifts and Ari emerges. She’s changed out of the denim shorts and Ventures Vinyl tee she was wearing on the drive and into a long white dress that is lacy and flowy and makes her look like a bohemian druid gifted with some celestial power.

“Holy smokes, Escalante,” says Ezra. “Bringing the heat!”

“You look beautiful,” adds Maya, every bit as genuine, if not quite as loud.

“Thanks,” says Ari, cheeks tinged pink. “Our performances are being filmed today, so …” Her gaze alights briefly on me, and I know I should say something. A compliment. Something simple, but honest.You look nice.That’d be easy enough.

She does look nice.

Superlativelynice.

But for some reason, my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth, and she looks away before I can unstick it.

“This band is so good,” says Maya, having to yell a little when the music launches into a particularly loud horn solo.

We find a place to sit on the grass. Ezra takes off his shirt and lays it down so Ari can sit without getting grass stains on her white dress, which is simultaneously chivalrous and a very obvious excuse for him to go shirtless for a while, and it takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes at the gesture.

It isn’t long before Maya hops back to her feet. “I have to dance to this,” she says, reaching a hand toward me. “Jude?”

I recoil. Which is a perfectly acceptable reaction to someone asking you to dance in public.

She gives me a look. “Oh, come on. Please?”

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