Page 22 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“Thanks,” she cuts me off. Her voice is ice, and her face matches it, hard and cold. “But I’m good.”

Well, shit. New Reggie just crashed and burned.

Delilah

I know he’s just being nice. I know he’s not trying to make me feel bad or whatever. But his words drum up all the same crappy feelings that Georgia’s talk did earlier. And I feel silly and stupid that it’s so clear, even to Reggie, who I’ve only spent one cumulative hour with, that I’m being strung along by this guy who obviously doesn’t like me like that.

I’m such a fool. And everyone knows it.

He probably just called me special before to try and soften the blow he saw coming. A pity thing.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“It’s not my business, and I shouldn’t have—”

Our awkward word tango is interrupted by Charlie, Asher, and Beau bouncing back into the shop, all smiles.

“We’re in!” Asher whoops.

“He’s gonna get us into the studio next weekend, kid,” Charliesays, shaking my shoulders in excitement. “Five songs, fully mastered. We’ll be able to upload them by the end of the month!”

“You okay, Delilah?” Beau asks, the only one who’s realized I haven’t paid for the now melting yogurt. “Did you not have enough?”

“No, I just—this is—” How do I describe who Reggie is to me? Someone who I really barely know, but it feels like he sees me more than most. “This is Reggie. I met him outside at The Mode.”

“Oh yeah! You’re the curb guy!” Charlie shouts, and—I know it’s not just my imagination—he slides in closer to me. His hands relax on my shoulders like they belong there. I hate it. But I also love it. And then I hate myself even more for that. “Hey man, thank you for taking care of our girl, Delilah, that night. You were a real lifesaver.”

“No problem,” Reggie says, eyes on the screen. He repeats the total and Beau pays for us all. The guys head toward the door with their yogurt, already slipping into a heated debate over what five songs we’re going to record.

“Well, it was good to see you,” I say to Reggie. His brow furrows and his lips pinch together, clearly the flicker of something he wants to say. I don’t know if I want to hear it or not, with how quickly he cut to the root of my Charlie drama minutes ago. But finally he just says, “Yeah, um, same. See you around.”

I wave and follow the guys outside.

Reggie

In a campaign, I could just go on another quest to win Delilah’s heart, but there’s no magic, no rules in play here. Seeing her again, that was a very lucky, very unlikely coincidence, and coincidences like that don’t happen again. I didn’t get her number. I didn’t even get her last name. And she probably wouldn’t have given it to me anyway after I offended her by butting in with my stupid opinion thatshe didn’t fucking ask for.

But... am I totally delusional to think I might have been getting somewhere? Before the comment that made her bristle, before her friends showed up—we were vibing, right? I mean, she didn’t just remember me—she looked for my essays! She must like something about the front I was putting on to waste her time doingthat.

I’m still turning it over in my mind as I head home after my shift. Maybe it doesn’t have to die here? I can always look up where her band’s playing, and I know where she goes to school now too. It wouldn’t be hard to see her again, and get yet another do-over. But would that be charming or totally stalkery? Damn, it’s a fine line.

It’s dark when I open the front door, but I can hear the sounds ofSuper Smash Bros.blasting from the speakers in the living room. I’m surprised to see Eric there, glowing in the blue light of the TV with a giant bag of conversation hearts at his side. I thought for sure he’d be out on a date, or at least with his boys. Unlike me, he’s rarely alone, and I want to ask him about it, but there’s no way that’ll go well.

“Yes! Let’s go!” Eric pops up and claps his hands together as celebratory music plays. I walk into the room and see Bowser holding out his claws in triumph on Dad’s ginormous flat screen. Eric nods at me in greeting and then grabs the other Switch controller. “You want in?”

“Yeah,” I say, plopping down on the other end of the couch. I grab a couple conversation hearts from his bag, toss them in my mouth, and then immediately regret it. I forgot these things are basically chalk and can crack a molar.

“Work good?” Eric asks, as he’s picking the stage for our match.

“Mm-hmm.”

As the countdown starts on the screen, I wonder what he would say about the whole Delilah situation—if he was the kind of brother that gave advice and I was the kind of brother that asked for it. But, of course, we’re not those brothers.

Eric’s Bowser comes at me with a shell spin. “Yo, Kirby’s about to get his ass beat!”

I laugh and hit him with Kirby’s inhale. “Bet!”

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