Page 168 of For the Fans
“Oh, right. Uh… You gotThe Departed?”
He grins. “Yes, of course. I told you, it’s in my top five.”
“Let’s do it, beautiful.”
He flashes me a quick, pleased look before crawling up toward the front of the car to grab his laptop. Watching him starting up the next movie, I crack open another can of soda, biting both ends of a Twizzler, and popping it inside like a straw.
Because it’s my thing. It’s what I did the last time I saw my father alive.
My dad loved Twizzlers. They were his jam, and I used to copy everything he did, so naturally, they became my jam, too. The day before he died, he was doing some work around our apartment, drinking a can of Coke with a straw.
For those of you who don’t know, they always used to give you straws when you’d buy a can of soda from the bodega in New York City, back in the day, before everyone recognized how bad straws are for the environment.I guess maybe it was so you didn’t have to put your lips on the dirty can, because who knew where it had been?
Either way, it was a thing. But when my dad put his drink down for a second, I snuck over and pulled the straw out, replacing it with a Twizzler. My dad picked up his drink, stared at the Twizzler, then looked at me while I pretended to play with my toys, trying desperately not to giggle.
He plucked the Twizzler out of the can, took a bite out of each end and stuffed it back in, sucking up a sip of his drink through it.
“Ah… That’s good stuff.” He winked at me, and we both started laughing hysterically.
Ever since then, I always make a Twizzler straw for my sodas, because it reminds me of him, and that perfect day when he was around. He never was again after that…
Kyran crashes back into the seat, balancing the laptop on the center console, so we can stay in the backseat. But this time, when he leans up against my side, I drape my legs over his lap, cuddling up to him even closer.
Because for some reason, right now, I just need it.
We watch the movie in silence for a bit, though I’m surprised he can’t hear how loudly the mechanics of my mind are clanking and banging, like an old crankshaft that’s cranking way too fast.
There’s just so much going on in my head; so much confusion and contemplation…
So much sudden desire to figure out where we stand.
“Hey…” I mumble when it gets to betoomuch.
“Mm?” he grunts sleepily with his lips in my hair.
“So… tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve…”
Smooth, Avi. Tell him what holiday tomorrow is, like he’s an alien who just landed here and has no idea what December 31stmeans.
Kyran chuckles. “Does that happen every year?” His tone is teasingly sarcastic, but the smile I can hear in it turns me to a big ball of mush in his lap.
“Ha ha.” I purse my lips, peeking up at him. “Do you have any plans?”
He blinks at me for a second before answering. “Yea, um… Guty’s throwing a party at our dorm…”
My stomach twists into a painful knot. I swallow away the despondence and nod, breaking our eye contact. “Right. That makes sense…”
“Avi…” He hums my name. I don’t want to hear the pity in it, but it’s definitely there. “I would have invited you, but—”
“But I don’t belong there,” I mutter. “I get it. No worries.”
“No, that’s not it.” He shifts, moving so that he can look at me. But I’m still finding it difficult to meet his eyes right now. “I just didn’t want to… subject you to that whole… thing.”
“You mean a party with your friends who all think I’m a loser you hate being around?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not like that. I promise…”
I roll my eyes. “Then what is it like?”
