Page 4 of If the Stars Align
Dex tosses me his keys, and I take the driver’s seat of Mr. Dexter’s car while Dex gets in on the passenger side. I buckle up and start to reverse out of the driveway. And when I’m on the road and picking up speed, the freedom I feel behind the wheel is so exhilarating, so intoxicating, I feel myself smiling despite the anguish that’s staked a claim on my heart.
“See?” Dex says, noticing my grin. “I knew you’d love driving.”
My mom had actual panic attacks at the thought of me getting behind the wheel, which didn’t make her a very good teacher. Every time I practiced with her, she’d nearly give me a heart attack by repeatedly shouting “CAREFUL!” apropos of absolutely nothing. It was so stressful that, even though I managed to pass my driving test and get my license, I had no desire to drive ever again. But Dex wouldn’t hear of it. The day after graduation, he insisted I start driving with him.
I was incredibly nervous at first. I didn’t want to embarrass myself. But with cool, calm, Dex by my side, I got comfortable behind the wheel pretty fast.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” I say, my eyes on theroad but the corners of my mouth upturned. “Thank you so much.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Dex says quietly before clearing his throat. At a stop sign, I turn toward him, but he’s looking out the window.
When we’re moving again, he turns up the volume on the radio. “Bittersweet Symphony,” by The Verve, is playing and, before long, we’re both singing at the top of our lungs as I drive with the windows down, the fresh summer air cooling our skin. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the rear-view mirror, and I’m beaming. I don’t think I ever look happier than when I’m with him. If only things could stay like this. But by this time tomorrow, Dex will be living in LA. It’s unfathomable, really. I mean, we’ve been inseparable since we were five years old. I hardly know who I am without him.
I stop at a red light and steal a glance in his direction. He looks over at me—still singing—and as soon as our eyes meet, he breaks into that movie star grin of his and, right away, my heart melts.
I’m hopelessly in love.
And it’s not only because he’s gorgeous. It’s the way he’s always been there for me. Like when I had chickenpox in third grade, and I was quarantined in my bedroom. He’d never had it himself, so he was susceptible, but he insisted on coming over and keeping me company. He brought a stack of his favorite movies on VHS and made my mom set up her TV/VCR in my room. He curled up next to me in my bed, his head on my shoulder, and we watched movies until I laughed and forgot how badly I was itching. Until bright red spots appeared on his face.
“Green light,” Dex says, yanking me back to the present. I laugh at myself as I step on the gas. Dex chuckles too. “Penny for your thoughts?”
My face is on fire. “Just taking a trip down memory lane, I guess. But you know what? I changed my mind. I don’t want to just drive around tonight.”
Dex smiles as I make a quick U-turn. “You’re the boss. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say, grinning.
Ten minutes later, I’m turning onto Dex’s street.
“You’re taking me home?” There’s a tinge of disappointment in his voice, which makes me feel a little bit guilty—but also a little bit giddy.
“Not quite,” I tease as I roll right past his driveway. “Be patient, we’re almost there.”
I coast to the end of the street, make a right turn, then left, and park on the side of the road. As I pull the keys out of the ignition, I see Dex’s signature half-smile take shape. As quickly as I can, I unbuckle and get out of the car. “Race you to the swing set!” I yell before I slam the driver’s side door shut and dash onto the grassy field.
“You’re cheating! No head starts!” I hear him say as he races after me. And instantly, it’s like we’re kids again.
“You’ve got longer legs!” I shout as I beat him by just a fraction of a second. I turn around, take hold of the iron chains, and hop onto my swing as Dex settles onto his.
“Gosh, when was the last time we were here?” he asks as his eyes shift from right to left across our favorite childhood playground.
I shrug as I catch my breath. “Maybe middle school?” And then I laugh. “Seventh grade, I think. The year you told everyone at school to start calling you Dex.”
Because Ollie was a kid’s name, and Oliver wasn’t cool enough, I guess. It was inconvenient for me because I’d already written Mrs. Oliver Dexter all over my Lisa Frank spiral notebooks—and that had a much better ring to it than Mrs. Dex. But I digress.
“No, it was more recent than that,” Dex says, shaking his head. “It was—the summer you got braces,” he says after a beat. “Right before we started high school. You made us wait here for the ice cream truck every day for a week because your teeth hurt, and you said the only thing that helped were push-pops.”
I chuckle. “How could I forget? Yeah, my teeth only hurt the first couple of days…I was definitely milking it after that.”
“I know,” he says.
I look at him and smile. We’re both swinging slowly, letting the light summer breeze do most of the work.
“By the way, it was pretty cool of you to come over this morning just to say goodbye to my parents,” Dex tells me with a tender look in his eyes.
“Ofcourse—I wouldn’t dream of leaving for college without saying goodbye to them.” I kick at the woodchips beneath my feet. “With my mom’s schedule being so unpredictable, the time I spent with your mom and dad was my stability. And as busy as your dad was, he never missed a family dinner. I know he wanted to be there for you, of course?—”
“Sunny, he knew how important those dinners were to you too.” The absolute sincerity in Dex’s expression brings tears to my eyes.
