Make the Fireflies Dance, page 14
I dig through my closet, trying to find the perfect birthday outfit. I’ve pulled about six of Mom’s dresses out before deciding on a high-waisted plaid skirt and a slouchy crop top that hangs off one shoulder and shows a thin sliver of skin above my skirt. Just enough to be flirty and fun without overdoing it. I feel like I could be in Empire Records, another of my mom’s movies that Ezra and I used to watch all the time.
A few hours later, Hadley and I pull up to Dr. Patel’s office, and the cast and crew sing a rousing—if terribly off-key—version of “Happy Birthday to You.” A huge bundle of balloons sways by the door, and I notice the unicorn and ninja balloons among them. I give Naoise a questioning look, gesturing at them, and she shrugs and beams her braces-filled smile at me.
We’re filming at Dr. Patel’s office tonight, thanks to her and Shyla. His office is closed on Saturdays, and he was nice enough to let us rearrange his reception area furniture so we could fake a restaurant scene. We’ve moved a small table in front of the window, and I watch as Marcus places a single flower in a vase and a candle in the middle of it. Naoise helps him fold some cloth napkins, and the two of them finish setting the scene together.
It’s been fun seeing Marcus and Naoise become friends as we make this movie. They have a natural banter about them, and she seems comfortable with him, which is huge. Naoise doesn’t always let her guard down around guys. She’s been hurt too many times—people tend to think because she’s beautiful, she should be in a relationship. They don’t understand her disinterest. It’s easier for her to shut herself off than to deal with the insensitive comments she used to get all the time.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her be so open and herself around someone who isn’t me, Hadley, or her family. I’m happy for her. She could use another good friend.
“Sound is good,” Donovan says. He’s standing behind Naoise, his boom held out over the table. “I can pick y’all up perfectly.”
“How’s the lighting, Marcus?” I ask.
He gives me a cheesy thumbs-up and smiles, the light reflecting off his teeth, making them ultra-white against his dark brown skin. “I’ve got it covered. Don’t you worry.” He pulls a cord, and the window dims. The candle is lit, and he brings his softbox tripod in closer to the camera.
It’s meant to be a romantic candlelit dinner, and if we keep the framing tight, I think we can pull this off. I’ve already decided to shoot the exterior shots at Black Sea Grill, and once we cut to this scene, I don’t think anyone will be able to tell we aren’t in a real restaurant.
“Okay then,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
“Ready?” Donovan asks once we finish pushing the furniture back where it belongs. The scene went amazingly well. Even when the girl who was supposed to play the server didn’t show up, we managed to move along with no problem. Hadley stepped in and played the part like it was written for her. She only said like five words, but still. It saved us today. Maybe I was simply emotional after my birthday breakfast, but I nearly choked up when I called cut for the last time. I have the greatest friends in the world.
We’ve been so busy this afternoon that I’ve not even had a moment to be nervous about my date. Donovan gave me a quick smile and a wave when he arrived on set, but then he went straight to work, not once mentioning the date during the shoot. But it’s time now.
“Just about,” I tell Donovan. “I have something I need to take care of really quick, then I’ll meet you outside, okay?”
I slip into Dr. Patel’s office and search his desk for a notepad. I know he has one—he used to bring extras home for Naoise and Shyla to color on all the time—and sure enough, I find a small stack of them nestled under his computer monitor.
I’m scribbling a quick note of thanks when I hear the door click shut. I look up. Kenyon’s standing there, his back leaning against the heavy wooden door. “Hey,” he says.
“Hi?” Why does that sound like a question? “What’s up?”
“I wanted to say happy birthday before you head out on your big date.”
Ugh, of course Kenyon would know about my date with Donovan. They are best friends. How did I never consider how weird this might be for him—and for me? At least I gave him fair warning that I’d be going on a lot of dates.
“Thanks,” I say. “Any idea where he’s taking me tonight? Nobody will tell me anything.”
He grins, and there’s a playfulness in his eyes. “Oh, I know where you’re going. But I’m not telling.”
“Spoilsport.”
He’s standing close now, with only the corner of Dr. Patel’s desk separating us.
“You’ll have fun, I promise.”
“I hope so.” Part of me is ready for this whole Operation Mystery Kisser thing to be done, to tell my friends to stop the plan. But the thought of never finding out who was in the theater that night leaves me with a hollow sensation deep in my chest, and a bigger part of me wants to find him. I want him to kiss me again with that same passion—I want him to take me to prom.
“Well, I guess I better get going.” I put the note in the center of the desk where Dr. Patel will be sure to see it Monday morning.
Kenyon grabs my hand as I walk past him. An excited thrum starts at the base of my throat. I do my best to ignore it. He pulls gently, stopping me and turning me around. I look up at him.
He’s staring at me with an emotion on his face that I can’t place. He drops my hand, and the disappointment that floods me is surprising. He looks past me to the door.
“Happy birthday,” he says finally.
“Thank you.” Why am I hoping for more? I gesture toward the door. “I really should g—”
Kenyon threads his fingers into my hair and tilts my face up toward him, his mouth on mine, cutting off my words. He kisses me so gently it almost hurts, and I lean into him for more.
I grab his T-shirt and twist it into my fist, pulling him closer as I open my mouth to his kiss. A soft warmth builds in my chest, and I wrap my other hand around his where he holds my face so gingerly.
Kenyon breaks away and steps back. My hand slips from his and falls to my side. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Don’t be.” I force myself to drop my grip on his shirt, even though all I really want is to pull him closer again. “That was… nice.” Truthfully, nice doesn’t cover it, but I don’t have the words to express myself right now. Not when all I can do is wish for him to kiss me again.
“You’re going on a date with my best friend,” he says. “He sent me in to see if you were ready or if you needed any help.”
“He did?”
Kenyon nods and runs a hand through his hair as he lowers himself to half-sit on the edge of the desk. “Yeah. Pretty sure this isn’t what he meant.”
“Hey,” I say, stepping closer. “You know I’m only going out with Donovan tonight because my friends have this thing about setting me up on all these dates, right?”
“Isn’t that the only reason you went out with me too?” he says.
“Well, yeah,” I admit. “But…”
“But what?” He’s leaning closer. I could lift myself onto my toes and press my mouth to his again. But I don’t.
“I didn’t expect…” I trail off. I don’t know how to finish my thought. Not really. I didn’t expect any of this. But mostly, I didn’t expect the warmth that’s glowing inside me right now.
I didn’t expect fireflies.
“What didn’t you expect?” Kenyon asks. Our lips are only a breath apart, and his words caress my skin as he whispers them. My heart trills in my chest, a fluttering so intense it’s almost painful.
“This.” I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, sliding my fingers into his hair, and pull his mouth to my own again.
chapter Twenty-Three
WHEN WE LEAVE, I CAN STILL FEEL THE SENSATION OF Kenyon’s lips on mine. His taste lingers in my mouth, a combination of coffee and the cinnamon bears he’s constantly snacking on.
We walk together, but with enough distance between us that I can’t feel his body’s heat anymore. When we step outside and I see Donovan waiting for me, my gut twists with guilt.
Kenyon gives Donovan a fist bump when he walks past, telling him he’ll see him later. Kenyon calls out, “Happy birthday, Quincy,” one more time as he climbs into his Jeep.
“Ready?” Donovan asks.
I nod. “Sorry that took so long.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.” He opens the door of his car for me, and I climb in.
We’ve been driving for a while when Donovan asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, but the word sounds hollow. When did I become the kind of person who kisses one boy minutes before going on a date with another? And not just any other, but that first boy’s best friend. Three weeks ago, I’d never even been kissed properly. Now I’m juggling two guys in one night?
“You and Kenyon seem to be getting pretty close,” he says, and the guilt twists even deeper. I might be sick.
“I guess,” I say. I can’t change the subject fast enough. “Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d grab some food then hit up the beach.”
We drive to town in excruciating silence. Any small talk we try to make fizzles out almost immediately. Clearly, I didn’t think this through. I should’ve driven myself to Dr. Patel’s office instead of riding with Hadley—then I could’ve met Donovan when we both got back from filming. Anything to save me from this painfully awkward car ride.
Finally, he pulls to the side of the road and cuts the engine. In front of us stands a red food truck with a crowd of people surrounding it. When we make our way close enough for me to see it, I notice that the menu is in Spanish; the only word I recognize is taco.
Thankfully, Donovan knows what he’s doing and orders for both of us before we head to the only empty table in the grassy area behind the truck. After a minute of waiting, he looks at me.
“Is it me or is this super awkward?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m a terrible date tonight.”
He flips his hand like he’s waving away my apology. “You’re fine.”
I try to make more of an effort, but the truth is, my heart isn’t really in this. I like Donovan, but I don’t feel much of a connection with him. Not romantically, at least. I get the feeling I’m not alone.
Eventually, we fall into comfortable conversation about school and music, and I learn Donovan’s going to Appalachian State next year on a partial scholarship to study music production.
“What do you want to do with that?” I ask.
“I’m not really sure.” He takes a huge bite of his enchilada and chews thoughtfully before continuing. “I used to want to be a big-name producer, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about doing scores for movies or something.”
“Oh my gosh,” I say, “do you want to write something for Maybe, Probably?” Having an original score would elevate the movie way above what we would be able to do by piecing together a soundtrack with music licensed for free.
“Sure,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll start tinkering tomorrow and see what I can come up with.”
“That’d be amazing,” I say.
We finish eating, and by the time we walk back to his car, the awkwardness between us is nearly gone.
“Okay,” I say as Donovan shifts his car into park. “This is unexpected.”
We’re stopped in front of Naoise and Shyla’s house. There’s only one light on, in the upstairs hallway. I know I’ve not been on a lot of dates, but isn’t taking your date to her best friends’ house kind of weird?
“I wanted to go to the beach,” he explains, “and Shyla said we could use their place for access. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. You surprised me a bit, but this is fine.” I still think it’s weird.
“Okay, then, let’s go.”
Donovan grabs a bag from the trunk, and we walk together to the Patels’ front door. He pulls a keychain from his pocket and flips through it until he finds the right key.
“She gave you her house keys?” I had no idea they knew each other well enough for something like this.
He shrugs and twists the key in the lock, pushing the door open as soon as it gives. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me through the front door.
“Okay,” he says into the dark foyer, “now we have to figure out how to get to the back door and outside again.”
I laugh. “Come on,” I say, taking the lead. I know this place nearly as well as my own home. I don’t even need to turn the lights on as we wind our way through the huge house.
We step into the great room, the ocean coming into view through the floor-to-ceiling accordion doors. The café lights Mrs. Patel strung along the second-floor deck are lit, their glow illuminating the room enough for me to make out the furniture.
A movement catches my eye, and I turn toward it. Something isn’t right, but before I can figure out what it is, the overhead lights flick on and a chorus of voices shouts, “Surprise!”
I jump and spin back to see Donovan standing behind me, laughing. “Happy birthday, Quincy,” he says.
“Did you…?”
He shakes his head. “I was only the distraction.”
The room is packed with bodies. Everyone from the movie is here, along with some other people from school. I scan the faces in front of me, trying to take in everyone who came. My eyes lock with Kenyon’s where he stands across the room, and a jolt of electricity shoots through my body. Suddenly, I’m hyper-aware of Donovan standing only a step behind me.
Before I can process the feeling, Naoise runs from the kitchen and tackles me into a hug. “Are you surprised?” she asks.
Now that the shock is wearing off, I’m able to fully take in the scene. Purple, pink, and black crepe paper streamers cover the room, and a giant inflatable unicorn takes up the entire corner opposite the fireplace.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, smacking her on the arm playfully. “I thought you said this stuff was for a five-year-old!”
“Close enough,” Shyla says as she joins us. I hug her tightly.
“Y’all are the best,” I say into her hair.
“Never forget it,” she says back. “Now, let’s party!”
We play several rousing games of Pin the Horn on the Unicorn then dig into the cake Shyla ordered from Sprinkles. It’s the only thing at this party that doesn’t look like unicorn puke. The cake is in the shape of a stack of film reels with an old-fashioned 35mm projector on top. Next to it stands a miniature Oscar statuette. On the base, it reads Best Director, Quincy Walker.
It’s the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen.
“There’s no way Sprinkles made this in two days,” I say as I pass a piece to Ezra. “How long have y’all really been planning this?”
Hadley drops a scoop of ice cream onto a plate and passes it over for cake. “About a month,” she says.
“I can’t believe nobody spoiled the surprise,” I say.
“Are you kidding? And face the wrath of Neesh?”
“Hey,” Naoise calls from across the room, “I heard that!”
Donovan takes a couple plates of cake and ice cream off the kitchen island. “Want to go outside?” he asks.
I pass the cake knife to Ezra and follow Donovan outside. Shyla pushed the accordion doors wide open shortly after we got there, so now the deck is an extension of the interior.
Donovan leads me down the steps and onto the long pier leading across the marshy area to the beach. About halfway down, he hops onto the railing then helps me up next to him.
“I needed to get away from the bustle for a bit,” he says as he hands my plate back to me. “I hope that’s okay?”
“No problem. You okay?”
He nods and we eat our cake in companionable silence. I swing my legs like a little kid. “So…” I say.
“So,” Donovan repeats.
“How long have you known about this party?”
“Since Monday.” He takes my plate from me and stacks it on top of his. “Shyla thought our date would be a good way to keep you away until it was time to arrive.”
“Well, it worked.”
My stomach flips. I know the reason I’m on this date: Donovan was helping at Nana’s party. If I kiss him now, I’ll know if it was him. We’re not exactly in the kissing place, though. I need to turn this date around.
I lean toward him until my arm is resting against his. “I’ve had a good time,” I say. I try to make my voice alluring, but I’m pretty sure I fail.
“Yeah, me too. This has been fun.”
I shift to face him, angling myself on the railing as much as I can without falling off. When he looks at me, I lean toward him.
Can I do this, really? Donovan’s a great guy, but there’s not been a single spark between us all night. Dinner was nice, and I love my party, but it’s been like hanging out with a friend. Nothing more.
I can’t. He’s Donovan. Maybe it was him in the theater at the party, but does it really matter? What if all this chasing I’m doing is for nothing? Sure, it was an amazing kiss. Mind-blowing, really. But that’s all it was. A single kiss. Is it worth chasing down a phantom, especially when I find myself having all these strange feelings about someone else? When that someone else is back in the house?
“We should go back in.” I hop off the railing, and Donovan follows. We head toward the house. The sounds of my surprise party float across the air to my ears, my friends having fun and playing silly games.
A weird sense of longing washes over me as I cross the pier back toward the house. Just like that, this thing that’s consumed me for the past two weeks is gone, and I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself with it. I’m surprised to find I’ll miss it.
I’m on the last step to the upper deck when I come to an abrupt stop. I hear Donovan’s step falter behind me. He’s a couple stairs down when I turn around, so for once I look him directly in the face.
“What’s—”
