Page 62 of Even Beneath the Stars

ChapterTwenty-Five

Xavier

Iplay a couple songs I wrote, tweaking a handful of chords, a few lines of the lyrics. But it's hard to concentrate when my brain keeps short-circuiting to that conversation last night with Cam. I want to jam with him and those other guys tomorrow, but it feels like it's too soon. Give me a breakaway on the ice, and I’ll go bar-down every time. Give me real-life decisions, and I’m faking left with no plan after that.

I'm just not ready to play with people at Cam's level. Pretty sure Maggie oversold me. Which, yeah, is ironic given how clear it's becoming that Iundersold her.

Seems cliché for me to keep falling back on those things my father said to me this morning, since I don't have a lot of respect for most of his values and, in theory, don't put much weight in his opinion of me. And yet my thoughts go there. Specifically, that zinger about courage and stupidity being one and the same for me. Because I'm worried that might be the case if I decide to go through with the jam session tomorrow.

Not the first time I let Barron's words get to me despite repeatedly berating myself for it. But apparently my emotions don't give a shit about the directives my brain lays out for them. They're pig-headed little bastards, emotions; like a bunch of toddlers—doing whatever they damn well please no matter how hard you try to wrangle them.

Whatever. I'm exhausted, so I just put aside my own stuff and play covers. Hockey Dad, John Mayer, MyKey, Eddie Vedder. I play until my fingers ache and the sun starts dipping behind the dome. Until my stomach growls, and Irealize I haven't eaten anything since those cheese sticks and Pop-Tarts hours ago. So, after a couple more songs, I head downstairs, following the sound of Finn's high-pitched voice and Maggie's easy laughter coming from the kitchen.

Maggie's pulling containers from the warming drawer as I approach from the stairs. Her hair is twisted into two messy buns perched high on her head, a bunch of wayward strands curling around her temples and brushing against the nape of her neck.

I slow my approach, taking in her outfit—a cropped star-print tee paired with baggy overalls. And socks covered in tiny cartoon sushi rolls. The getup should look ridiculous. Like something a kindergartener would pick out. But on her, it somehow works. She's got this effortless way of wearing things, like she genuinely doesn't care what anyone thinks. The exact opposite of the calculated outfits most girls wear around here—trying so hard to look like they're not trying at all. It’s like Maggie LeClair is starring in her own quirky indie film, and I can’t look away from the screen.

Doesn't help that the cropped shirt shows a slice of bronzed skin through the wide side opening of the overalls when she stretches to reach the back of the warming drawer. I force my gaze to eye-level as I stroll closer through the sitting room.

She straightens when she hears my footsteps and smiles.

"Xavier!" Finn's whole face lights up as he swings open the massive fridge door. "We're having mini turkey meatballs with marinara sauce for supper!"

"Cool."

"And I'm getting the veggies and dip!" He reaches into the fridge with both hands, carefully lifting out a covered tray. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he concentrates on not dropping it.

I walk around the island as he takes his first tentative step.

"Here, let me help with that, buddy."

Together we transport the tray to the counter. I lift the lid while Finn bounces beside me, revealing neat rows of carrot sticks, celery, and cherry tomatoes arranged around a bowl of ranch dip.

"Look!" Finn runs his finger along the precise line of carrots. "Candice made them look like a sunshine."

"I love Candice." Maggie sighs, pulling another covered dish from the warming drawer. Her eyes flick to the bruises on my face, then down to where she knows the worst ones are hidden under my shirt. "How're you holding up, Rocky?" Her voice is casual, but her eyes read me like a book.

"Alright." I grab some plates from the cupboard, keeping my movements measured so my ribs don't protest too much.

Finn darts toward the pantry. "I'm gonna get napkins! And my special straw!"

When he's gone, I sidle closer to Maggie. Clear my throat. "Funny story…" I lean against the counter. "I was about to write a scathing Reddit review about the lack of service in the Observatory." I pull the empty Pop-Tart wrapper from my pocket and lift it."But turns out the Observatory's snack game is top-tier."

Maggie's lips quirk, her eyes meeting mine for a second before returning to the plates in front of me.

"Four stars for presentation…" I wait until her gaze meets mine again. "Five stars for thoughtfulness."

Her smile softens. "I figured, you know… It's been a crap twenty-four hours."

"Hasn't been all bad," I shrug, leaning in a little closer. "Tasted my first Bruise Buster Ball last night… which was pretty sweet."

Her eyes go wider, and she does this closed-mouthed laugh thing.

"Shit." I chuckle. "That sounded way dirtier than I meant it to."

She shoulder-checks me lightly. "Maybe because you keep calling it aballinstead of a boulder."

"Yeah." I rake my teeth along my lower lip. "Must be that."

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