Page 32 of Thrown for a Loop
As the first rocket bursts over the lake, he spots Ethan and Joon-ho reclined on the grass, and he heads over to sit near them. He does a double take, though, when he notices that they’re covertly holding hands.
Well, damn. He hadn’t seen that coming. It’s really fucking cute, though. At least somebody is enjoying this stupid day.
He picks another place to sit. Alone. With each bright burst in the sky tanking his mood a little further.
A half hour later, though, they’re back on the camp bus. And when the bus pulls up in front of the dorm, it’s after curfew already.
Normally he’d be on the roof right now with Zoe, snacking and talking and watching the stars come out over the campus. It’s his favorite part of the day.
Tonight, though, he’s not fit for company. He texts her:I’m heading inside. Talk tomorrow?
She gives him the thumbs-up.
But after the entryway grows quiet, he climbs the stairs to the roof alone. The night air is thick with July heat, and firecrackers still pop in the distance, and the air tastes like sulfur.Fucking Fourth.He drops into one of the lawn chairs and stares up at the dark sky.
A few minutes later, he hears the door open.
Zoe.His heart lifts, then sinks again. “I don’t have a snack,” he says when she quietly sits on the end of the other lawn chair.
“I didn’t come here for that.” She sets a small candle in a tin on the asphalt roof. Then she takes out some matches.
“What are you doing?”
She freezes, tilting an uncertain face toward his. “Maybe I shouldmind my own business. You can say so. But I thought we should light a candle for her.”
“For…” He swallows hard. “For my mom?”
“Of course for your mom.” Her voice is gentle. “She deserves her own spark on the Fourth, right?”
“Yeah.” His voice is rougher than shards of glass.
She leans over the candle, striking the match and touching it to the wick. Then she settles beside him. He stares at the little flame, breathing through his nose, trying to keep himself in check. Nobody in his life has ever offered to share this burden with him. Nobody.
Then a smooth hand reaches over the one-foot gap between their chairs and takes his. Her voice is so soft he hardly hears her. “Tell me something about her.”
“Um…” He tries to clear his throat. “She was funny. She could always find something to laugh about. Even when things were bad with my father, she’d make these little jokes…” His voice cracks. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She slips her fingers through his. “Keep going.”
He squeezes her hand and tells her about his mom’s lumpy hand-
knitted scarves and her Motown CDs and how she snuck him chocolate bars when his father wasn’t looking. His voice breaks several times, but Zoe just holds his hand tighter.
“What was her favorite song?”
“‘My Girl,’” he chokes out. “The Temptations. She used to dance around the kitchen singing.”
“Then I guess we’d better sing it.”
“Sing it?” He doesn’t think he can.
So it’s Zoe’s voice that lifts quietly into the darkness. She’s got sunshine on a cloudy day, and Chase is suddenly drowning as Zoe’s thumb strokes the back of his hand in time with the music.
When she finishes, the silence feels holy. The candle flickers between them, sending shadows dancing golden across their bare knees.
“Thank you,” he manages.
In answer, she lifts out of her own chair and sits on the edge of his. He scoots over, making space, until they’re sitting hip to hip, just holding hands. Together, they look up at the starry sky and listen to the last firecrackers of the night. A dog barks in the distance.
