Page 2 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
“How long is this gonna take? We only have ten minutes until midnight.” She squeezes my sister’s hand, and Yami’s eyes light up with something eager.
“Hey, Siri, what’s my next alarm called?” Yami says with a flirty smile, not taking her eyes off Bo.
Siri responds from Yami’s phone. “I found one alarm, ‘New Year’s kiss,’ set for twelve o’clock a.m.”
Bo’s cheeks go red almost immediately. Considering how shy Yami was about Bo last year, she has clearly been working on her game.
“Aww, I’m getting a New Year’s kiss too, right?” Amber looks to David, who pulls his phone out to set his own alarm.
“Of course, babe.”
I turn to look at Jamal like muscle memory from when we were together, only to find he was already looking at me. Jamal isn’t the type of guy to look away when he gets caught staring, though, so he holds my gaze earnestly. I glance down at his lips and wonder if maybe I should set an alarm of my own. What better time than the new year for a fresh start?
Before either of us can say anything, though, David effortlessly sets off the first firework without warning. Bo lets out a startled scream and hides behind Yami when it goes off. I watch it shoot high into the air before lighting up yellow sparks in the sky.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Yami and Bo holding hands, and David and Amber holding each other. The warmth from Jamal’s hand being so close to my own but not quite touching makes my fingers twitch in anticipation. He must notice, because I suddenly feel his gaze on me once again.
His fingers twitch too, and for a tiny fraction of a millisecond, the tips of our fingers make contact. If anyone saw, they’d probably be able to write it off as a firework-induced flinch, but I know better.
Bo and Yami are next to set off a firework. They do it together, since Bo seemed so skittish the first time. Yami pretends to be brave, but the slight tremble in her hands as she holds the firework tells me it’s all an act to impress Bo. As if Bo wasn’t already completely head over ass cheeks.
As soon as the firework shoots up, Yami’s tough-guy lookdisappears as she and Bo both hold each other, screaming and laughing.
I watch as the sky crackles again, like really pretty popcorn in an invisible microwave in the sky.
“Question,” Jamal says, quiet enough for only me to hear under the sound of exploding lights. He’s been prefacing his questions this way ever since his cousin told him his tone doesn’t always translate, which I guess makes him sound sarcastic when he’s not trying to be. He used to just blurt out questions at random times—anything from a “would you rather” to a deep investigation into your soul. Having the preface of “question” usually does nothing to prepare me for whatever might come out of his mouth next.
“Go ahead,” I say, once I realize he’s still waiting for me to give him permission.
“What are you thinking?” he asks—one of his go-tos.
“Skycrowave,” I blurt out and immediately regret it. A question like “What are you thinking?” while we’re watching fireworks and our fingers are almost touching should have been my golden opportunity. The amount of smooth or flirty things you can say to that question are basically infinite. But apparently all the brain cells that got me a photographic memory and a 5.0 GPA don’t mean shit when a hot guy’s involved. Put Jamal in front of me, and all those brain cells work on overdrive, sifting through all my knowledge and memory files to find the perfect answer, and somehow the best I can come up with isskycrowave.
“Skycrowave,” he repeats, as if it’s a math equation. He pauses for a minute before finally saying, “I understand,” which makes me laugh.
“You understand skycrowave?”
“It’s the sound, right? Like when you microwave popcorn. That’s what this is.” He gestures at the sparkling sky. “A sky microwave.”
Okay, maybe he does understand. I really can’t get enough of how sincere Jamal is about things most people (myself included) would just make a joke about.
Hunter goes to light his firework next, but he must not have been paying much attention when Yami was reading the instructions, because his firework shoots off prematurely, right in Jamal’s direction!
Jamal freezes while everyone else runs for it. I must be going off pure adrenaline because I jump right into gear, yanking Jamal out of the way by his hand.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!!” Hunter shouts as we scatter, screaming and darting in all directions away from the literal explosives headed toward us. Everyone else takes cover behind Bo’s car, while I pull Jamal across the street to hide behind his truck.
The street doesn’t stop igniting once we’re safely crouched and huddled together for cover. I shut my eyes tight, as if not seeing the colorful explosions on the street will keep them from hitting us. It isn’t until the metaphorical popcorn kernel-bursting slows down that I finally open my eyes and realize I never let go of Jamal’s hand.
He meets my eyes without pulling away. His eyes flicker down to my lips for a moment, not bothering to hide where his gaze lingers before going back to meet mine.
No one can see us. We could kiss right now, and no one would have to know....
The final popcorn kernel bursts, but I don’t bother checking on the settling dust on the other side of the truck. The sounds of our panting breaths and beating hearts slow, fading into the background. Maybe I can’t hear because of the fireworks having been so loud and so close, or maybe I’m just laser focused onhim.
Without sound, the only proof that we’re both still breathing is the condensed air coming from our mouths in puffs. His shirt slightly tightening and loosening with the rise and fall of his chest. The movement of his shoulder pressing softly against mine.
Then the silence ends as two separate phone alarms go off at the same time, and we’re making out before anyone can shut off the sound again.
