The song came through the grocery-store speakers while Rosalie stood deciding whether eight dollars was an acceptable price for coffee creamer.
Three notes.
That was all it took.
Her hand stopped against the refrigerator door.
Same melody.
Different singer.
And suddenly she was fourteen again, holding sheet music backstage while Nolan irritated the hell out of her on purpose.
I forgot the first line of my choir solo twelve minutes before I was supposed to sing.
Not technically forgot.
I knew it.
My brain had simply locked the words somewhere inaccessible out of spite.
I stood backstage staring at the sheet music.
First line.
Nothing.
“Perfect.”
“You look like you’re about to throw up.”
I spun around.
Nolan leaned against the cinder-block wall.
“What are you doing back here?”
“Bathroom.”
“The bathroom is on the other side of the auditorium.”
“I got lost.”
“You’ve been at this school three years.”
“It’s a confusing building.”
I looked down at the music again.
He stepped closer.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re holding the paper so tight it’s bent.”
I loosened my fingers.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“Nolan.”
“You’re going to be fine.”
“I forgot the first line.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’ve practiced that song enough to destroy it for everyone within fifty feet.”
I hit him with the music folder.
He caught it before it fell.
“There. Violence. Feel better?”
“No.”
“A little?”
I wanted to say no again.
I did.
He knew.
His mouth started to move.
“Don’t smile.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m supportive.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Also true.”
Somebody called my name near the stage.
My stomach dropped.
“I can’t do this.”
Nolan stopped joking.
“You can.”
“I’m going to screw it up.”
“So screw it up.”
I stared.
“What?”
“You miss one note, keep going.”
“That’s your advice?”
“Yeah.”
“It sucks.”
“You want me to lie?”
“Maybe.”
He handed me the folder.
“You know the song.”
I looked toward the curtain.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Currently debatable.”
“Mimi said ice cream afterward.”
I looked at him.
“You came for ice cream?”
“Mostly.”
I hit him again.
He laughed.
Then somebody called my name a second time.
Nolan stepped backward.
“Go.”
So I went.
The stage lights erased most of the audience.
I saw shapes.
Rows of heads.
A reflection from someone’s glasses.
Then my eyes adjusted.
Mimi sat four rows back.
Baba beside her.
And Nolan had somehow gotten back to his seat before I reached center stage.
He gave me a small nod.
The piano began.
First line.
For half a second, nothing.
Then the words came.
My voice shook on the opening phrase.
Not enough to stop.
Second line.
Better.
By the chorus I stopped looking at the crowd.
I knew where Nolan sat.
That was enough.
When I finished, applause rushed toward the stage.
I bowed badly and escaped.
Back in the hallway my hands started shaking.
Adrenaline showing up after it could be useful.
Nolan waited near the doors.
“You were good.”
I stopped.
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
“Just good?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You want a medal?”
“I want accuracy.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Fine. You were incredible.”
“Better.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“Hold this.”
I shoved the folder at him.
He took it automatically.
Then looked down.
“Why am I holding this?”
“Because you insulted me.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You’re still holding it.”
Nolan stared at me.
I smiled.
Something in his expression changed.
His eyes went still.
I noticed.
“What?”
He blinked.
“Nothing.”
There it was again.
Nothing.
He had started saying that word a lot.
I opened my mouth to ask.
Mimi reached us first.
“Rosalie!”
She kissed both my cheeks.
“Mimi.”
“Beautiful. Beautiful.”
Nolan grinned.
I pointed at him.
“Do him.”
His smile vanished.
“No.”
Mimi grabbed his face.
Nolan tried leaning away.
Too late.
A kiss on each cheek.
He wiped one dramatically.
“I’ve been assaulted.”
“You survive,” Mimi said.
Baba appeared carrying my coat.
“That was good, kiddo.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Good?”
Baba looked at Nolan.
Nolan shrugged.
“Apparently we’re supposed to say incredible.”
Baba nodded.
“Incredible.”
I took my coat.
“Thank you.”
On the drive home, Mimi turned on the radio.
My song came on.
Nolan groaned beside me.
“No.”
I turned it up.
“No.”
I started singing.
He stared out the window.
I sang louder.
Baba covered one ear.
Mimi smacked his arm.
“Let her sing.”
“I heard it once.”
“You hear again.”
I nudged Nolan.
He held out maybe another five seconds.
Then sang the next line badly on purpose.
I laughed so hard I missed mine.
Mimi complained we were ruining it.
Nolan made it worse.
Baba threatened to walk home.
When we reached Mimi’s, Nolan carried my folder inside and left it on the table.
He followed me to the refrigerator.
“Chocolate?”
I asked.
“Obviously.”
“Vanilla exists.”
“Unfortunately.”
I pulled out the ice cream.
Nolan found bowls.
Normal.
Everything with Nolan still felt normal.
That was the problem.
He had been beside me so long that I didn’t register the little changes.
How often his eyes followed me across a room.
How fast he got irritated when another boy paid too much attention.
How sometimes he started to say something and changed the sentence halfway through.
How he had gone completely still backstage when I smiled at him.
I saw all of it.
I just filed it under Nolan.
Years later, I would understand that somewhere around then he had stopped looking at me only as his best friend.
At fourteen, I was much more concerned with whether he was about to steal the last scoop of chocolate ice cream.
He did.
I stabbed his hand with the spoon.
The cooler door at the grocery store swung shut.
Rosalie stared at her own reflection in the glass.
Fourteen-year-old her had been impressively clueless.
She picked up the creamer.
Eight dollars.
“Highway robbery.”
She put it in the cart anyway.