Page 69 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“It’s cute, but, like... it’s not what we do. I think you know that.”

“Well, maybe not yet,” I rush to say. “But it could be. Or maybe we could work on it together to get it closer to—”

“No, it’s not right,” he says, shutting me down. But then the coldness disappears and he grins at me, batting his long lashes. It’s the same way he’s always looked at me, the way that used to make me feel like a plant leaning toward the sun. “I’m not saying you won’t get there, but... yeah, leave the music-writing to us, kid. You get to be out there in the front, looking beautiful.”

He reaches out to put his hand around my shoulders, to pull me in close, but I step just out of his reach. My throat aches, like I’veswallowed something sharp.

I stare at the floor as we all stand there in silence. I’m scared to look up, scared what my face might give away.

“Okay, I know what we need,” Asher says finally. “Top three, uh, Kurt Cobain songs, g—”

“Dude, read the room,” Beau says, shooting him a look. And that’s nice and all, but where’s the same energy for Charlie? I know he was their friend first, that this was their band... I just thought maybe I’d earned my place at this point too.

“I’m going to go,” I say, grabbing my backpack.

“What about the fireworks?” Charlie asks. As if nothing of importance just happened.

I shrug. “I’m good.” And then I head out of the garage, throwing a wave behind me. No one follows me.

As I sit at the stop, waiting for the holiday schedule bus, I replay what happened, searching for what I did wrong.Was I stupid for sharing with them? Was my music so cringey that reaction was warranted?

But no. I’m not going to take that on. I was brave. I was the girl I want to be. So if they don’t like that girl, then that’s their problem, not mine.

But what does that mean for me and the band? What do I do next? I don’t want to quit Fun Gi. I love performing too much, and how would I do it without them?

My phone buzzes in my pocket and a little seed of hope plants in my chest. Maybe it’s Charlie. Maybe he’s apologizing, telling me to come back.

It’s not Charlie’s name on my screen, though. It’s Reggie’s.

I know you said you were going to your dad’s but you got plans tonight? This is kinda a bs holiday that I’m not even sure we should celebrate anymore. But also me and Yobani and Greg are going to see the fireworks at Alamitos Beach

I feel my cheeks get tight as I smile at my phone.

Do I want to hang out with Reggie and his friends right now? Yes. Of course! But also... I really want to go home and work on this song some more. I want to make it better, closer to my vision, so maybe I can perform it on my own someday, without the guys. So no one—not even Charlie—can tell me it’s not good.

I’ve got some stuff I need to do. I’m sorry!

Okay no worries

But tomorrow?

His response is immediate.I’m all yours.

Labor Day Weekend

Reggie

I am going to try again with Delilah this weekend.

If you’d asked me back in June, I would’ve sworn I’d rather get into fistfight with a cloud giant rather than put myself out there with her after the swerve from hell. And if I get swerved again, damn... I’m done.

But I don’t think that’ll happen.

Maybe I’m completely delusional, but it’s been months now of cracking jokes and long, deep conversations and sitting so, so close. And I don’t think you do all that with someone you’re gonna swerve. Unless you’re, like, a sociopath about to have a podcast season,60 Minutesspecial, and Hulu show made about you, and Delilah isn’t all that. She’s perfect.

There have been moments where I’ve almost tried again this summer, when I was 99.7 percent sure that she wanted me to actually kiss her this time. Like that one day we were at her place watchingThe Warriors—which, yeah, is like the least romanticmovie ever. Our thighs kept touching, though, and every time I reached for the popcorn, she did too, and I swear her fingers were shooting electricity right into mine, like she had Storm and Black Lightning’s powers combined. But then Georgia came home and started hollering, “Warriors, come out and play!” because she heard it in some TikTok and the moment was gone. And then there was that time we were celebrating National Soft Serve Day—or something like that. The “holidays” have definitely become an excuse at this point. But we were at Shoreline Village, looking out at the water and licking our chocolate-dipped sprinkle cones, and the sun was setting, casting everything in this glowy, perfect light. There was no interruption, no reason to pull back this time... except that last 0.3 percent.

She could run away screaming. She could slap me and post my picture on one of those “Girls, beware!” Instagram accounts. She couldletme kiss her once but be obviously not into it, and when I jump back immediately because I’m not a creep, I would be able to see that something was irreparably broken between us. And then our friendship, this friendship that means everything to me at this point, would be done.

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