Page 13 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

Notto go look for the girl. Just because it was hot. Like, really hot—so hot I had to unzip my hoodie and put my dorky shirt on full display again.

And yeah, I noticed that the girl wasn’t standing with her bandmates. But Idid notgo searching for her. I needed some air. That’s all.

When I did see her sitting on the curb, though, I wasn’t mad about it. Except I had to go and ruin it, like, instantaneously, by waving. Waving! Like a goddamn toddler. Then she nodded and gave me a fake smile, showing me mercy instead of giving me the full-body cringe I deserved. And before I had a chance to redeem myself, she put her head between her legs, shutting down any minuscule chance I had left.

I should leave. I should walk away and pretend this never happened. We don’t go to the same school—I woulddefinitelyrecognize her if we did. No one has to know how little game I actually have.

She’s sitting outside by herself, though. She’s not listening or looking around her. And outside of a donut shop, no less, which is extra dangerous. Because as we all know, there arewaytoo many donut shops in Long Beach for them to all be financially viable. So, like, at least fifty percent of them have to be a front for more nefarious enterprises, and I’m not trying to be interviewed as a witness on a murder podcast next month.

I can’t leave her alone.

So I stand here, listening to the muffled sounds of Ryan Love and the Valentines. Ten minutes. Fifteen. I check my phone, and then remember I don’t want to see any of the notifications, so I shove it back in my pocket.

Twenty minutes. The girl stirs, and I think she’s going to sit up, but she just rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck.

I hear shouts and applause inside and then the sounds die down. The Valentines’ set must be over. The door behind me opens, but it’s not the guys in her band. (Where are the guys in her band?) It’s two girls in Feline shirts, passing a vape pen back and forth and giggling at something on a phone. They’re gone a few minutes later.

When it hits thirty-five minutes, I start questioning my whole decision-making process here. Yes, leaving her alone is not the right thing to do, but is standing above her like a creeper much better?

I take a deep breath. Okay, all right. I’ll sit down. A safe, nonthreatening distance away. Here I am, a regular guy, just trying to make sure you’re not kidnapped by someone pretending to sell apple fritters.

“Oh, you’re still here.” I startle. The girl is looking right at me. Not smiling, but not horrified either. My brain rushes to memorize all the details of her face like I’m going to be tested on them later: the light dusting of freckles on her nose, a deep cupid’s bow, long bottom lashes. Her eyes have dark bags under them, though, and her brown skin looks a couple shades lighter than it did when she was on stage. She still looks unbelievably gorgeous, but it’s clear she’s feeling sick. Why is she out here alone?

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to just leave you here.” I put my hands up. “Not in, like, a weirdo way. Because it was the right thing to do. I would have done it for anybody. You can’t be too careful with, you know—” I wave my hands behind us. “The donuts.”

Her dark eyebrows push together in confusion. Because of course she’s confused.

“Thank you?”

“I can, uh, leave if you want me to now. Now that you’re alert and... safe. Not thatIkept you safe. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of that on your own.” Why am I still talking? I need to stop talking.

She laughs, but it’s not a mocking,what the fuck is wrong with this guy?laugh. I know that one well. No, it’s warm and kind. She smiles at me, that same small smile from the stage—just a slight upturn of her lips. And I swear to god, my heart legit skips a beat. Like, I might need to go to the hospital.

“I appreciate it. Really.” She looks around us, and I can hear the heavy bass of the next band, Feline, starting up inside. “I shouldn’t have been out here like that alone. That was stupid. My mom wouldkillme... if I didn’t get killed, that is.”

I laugh, and I notice her wince. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says quickly, as if it’s a standard reply she has ready to go. “I have a migraine. Well, had a migraine. I think it’s mostly gone now. I took my medicine and I was waiting for it to kick in.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. That is rough.” I make my voice way quieter so I don’t make her feel worse. “And you put on a show like that with a migraine? Wow. I mean, I was impressed before, but that is some superhero shit.”

Her cheeks flush red, and she smiles at her knees. “Thanks. It was my first gig... ever.”

“Ever? Like,everever?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well... damn. Don’t forget me when you’re famous then. Because if you rocked your first showthathard, you about to be.” That makes her smile slightly bigger, so I keep going. “Reggie. R-E-G-G-I-E. The guy that stood next to you awkwardly for thirty minutes in front of a donut shop right before your big break. I want to be name-dropped in the first documentary.”

“Reggie,” she repeats. “I’m Delilah.”

Delilah. It’s music.

“Well, I’ll be bragging about this night someday, Delilah.”

“I don’t know about all that,” she sighs. “I was just helping out my friends.”

“Hey, give yourself some credit. I mean, I’m no expert here, and I’m sure your friends are great musicians or whatever. But you’re talented too. What you did tonight... it was something special.” I worry I took it too far, basically waved a flashing neon sign that said “I HAVE A MASSIVE CRUSH ON YOU” in her face. But she waves it away with another little smile.

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