Page 85 of Just My Type of wrong guy

Just for you, I let it happen

Let It Happen - Gracie McAbrams

I managed to slip under the radar earlier in the afternoon, even got out of playingWerewolfwith the guys at the end of the day, but when Guilherme’s parents headed out for dinner and left us in charge, I didn’t bother hiding in my room.

The house to ourselves means pizza and a night of jamming, just like the old days. The girls are upstairs making drinks while we head downstairs to set up the basement.

“We should’ve ordered another one.” Guilherme points to the stack of four pizzas. “If Thomas eats like he always does, I’ll have to fight for my survival,” he complains as we bring the chairs to the pool table.

“It’s not my fault if you guys have bird stomachs,” Thomas shrugs, opening one of the pizza boxes — but Richard closes it right away.

“We’re waiting for the girls, man. Let’s show some respect to the people bringing the drinks.”

“You don’t even drink,” Thomas argues, clearly annoyed. “And we need a table down here. We’ve got pool, a couch, even a projector. We’re past our early twenties, we need somewhere decent to sit.”

“Speak for yourself,” I say with a laugh, standing proud at my glorious twenty-four.

They laugh too, and for a second, it’s like we’re those kids again — pulling all-nighters down here, playing whatever came to mind.

Guilherme watches me for a beat before opening his mouth.

“So what’s up, A.J.? You gonna tell us, or are we gonna have to drag it out of you?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Tell you what?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” Thomas jumps in before Gui can answer. “Ever since you got here, it’s like your head’s always somewhere else.”

“You guys are imagining things.”

Richard crosses his arms, about to throw me under the bus — like I haven’t kept his secret about Daniele for years.

“Right. So this whole silent-and-distant act has nothing to do with Alexandra, huh?” he asks, betraying me with zero shame.

“Obviously not.”

“So you two—” Thomas starts, but I lift a hand to cut him off.

“We’re here to eat and play. You’re losing focus. Let’s not start with this crap.”

“What crap?” Beatriz asks, walking in holding a bright yellow pitcher.

“They’re trying to figure out why A.J. spent the whole day locked in the room,” Guilherme explains, going to meet her.

“Oh, he had a migraine,” Alexandra announces and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who caught the irony and fury in her voice. “Didn’t you guys know?”

“The good news is it’s gone. Let’s eat. I’m dying to hear you guys sing,” Daniele steps in to save me, though her eyes linger on Alexandra.

She sets a tower of plastic cups on the table and hands a bottle of Coke to her boyfriend.

“Exactly. Let’s eat,” I say, grabbing the biggest slice of pepperoni pizza and heading for the couch.

This basement carries our story. Not just because we started here, but because it’s also where our first attempts at a logo are spray-painted, where Daniele posts all the articles about us, and where our first instruments still hang.

Even though we don’t use them anymore, it’s nice to look at them hanging on the highest point of the wall and remember where we came from. I shake off the nostalgia and head back toward the couch, but stop because it’s already taken by Daniele and Alexandra. The guys are still around the pool table, and Beatriz hasn’t come to sit with the girls, because Guilherme looks at her like he’d rather eat pizza straight off her.

The basement is warm. Not just because of the heater, but because of everyone being together, talking, laughing... Clinging to the end of vacation and almost forgetting that we’re back on stage tomorrow.

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