I don’t even know why, except she’s making me super nervous, and I want her to think…I don’t know what I want her to think. That I’m cool? That I’m someone worth talking to? She seems like someone who doesn’t bother with people unless she really wants to. I want her to want to bother with me. However, considering I can’t even manage to form a coherent sentence in my brain, nevertheless out loud, that’s probably unlikely.
She furrows her brow at my spluttering nonsense. “Oooookay.”
I mentally kick myself.
“Anyway.” I force myself to take a long breath before I continue. “Is Lucy any good?” There you go, Zach; finally got those words out of your mouth. Jesus.
At the mention of her friend, a real smile crosses her face. It’s as awesome as—maybe more awesome than—the one earlier today in class. “Lucy? Lucy isn’t good. Lucy is amazing. Just wait.”
“Nice. Conor’s going to be stoked. He’s wanted to get a female drummer for the band since forever. Thinks it’ll help their image.”
She rolls her eyes.
I laugh. “I know.”
Across the room, someone knocks over a snare drum and it crashes to the floor, loud, reverbing off the walls. When I look back at May, her eyes are wide.
“You okay?” She looks super spooked, like she might take off running out of the room. Her breath is coming out all choppy and weird, and her face has lost most of its color.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she stands there pressed against the wall, unmoving and silent for about a minute. I’m starting to think maybe it would be a good idea to grab her friend Lucy, because she doesn’t look right, but as I start to rise off the arm of the couch, May coughs and jolts back to life.
She looks around the room, slowly, and then focuses on my worried face. She blinks like she just remembered that I’m here.
“Hey…are you okay?” I don’t want to come off like her mom, but I don’t think that was a normal reaction to a falling drum.
She shakes her head. “Yeah, of course. Sorry. I’m fine. I was just thinking about Kowalski’s hair.” She laughs, but it sounds forced. She licks her lips. “Do you think she even owns a hairbrush?”
I pause before I reply, because she’s sort of repeating herself with the hairbrush joke. But I don’t want to call her out or make her feel weird, so I just laugh again. “Probably not.”
She grunts. “Yeah.”
Silence falls over us. I’m racking my brain trying to think of witty, cool things to say, when I realize that her eyes are fluttering and she’s leaning against the wall like it’s a life raft.
“Hey, do you want some water?” I bend down and reach under the couch and rustle around until I find my backpack. “I brought a couple bottles….I know it can get super claustrophobic in here sometimes.”
Her eyes open wide, like she’s surprised that I noticed. “Yeah. Thanks.” She takes the bottle from my outstretched hand and gulps down half of it in one breath. She sits down on the couch and I take a seat on the other end.
“Impressive drinking skills.” I groan to myself, because, like—worst dad joke ever?—but her face relaxes and she smiles at me. A real smile this time—one that touches her eyes.
I want to see her smile again. And again. We settle in on the couch to watch Lucy.
* * *
—
May was right; Lucy is a badass drummer, like beyond Lockett or anyone else who’s ever played with the band. All of them—especially Conor—are blown away.
However, good as she is, I can barely concentrate on the music, because it’s like all of my molecules are being pulled toward May. I swear I’ve never been so aware of another person in my life. The couch is small, and her arm presses against me every time she moves, making the hairs on my arm stand on end. When the band breaks between songs, we start talking. Sometimes at the same time, about the same thing. The