Favorite Friend

Swingin' Party

With every step I bring behind me, the nerves in my stomach return a little bit more. I walk at a quick pace to match the way my thoughts are racing around my head, frantic and directionless. At this time of day, the suburb is so quiet, the only sounds the soft music carrying over from one of the lawns and my feet hitting the cracked asphalt. It almost seems like San Aburrido is holding its breath, the windows of the houses I've walked by a thousand times watching me as I make my way down the road.

The walk feels like it lasts seconds and hours all at once, and by the time Aaron's house comes into view, I can't tell whether the pounding of my heart is relief or fear. Slowly, I near the rusted garden gate, expecting Aaron to be inside the house, only to freeze when I spot him in the garden, watering the flowers with the same hose his dad used to chase us around the house with.

He doesn't notice me at first, his back turned to me; then, his mom, who's bent over the flowerbed next to him, looks up and meets my eyes. With a smile in my direction, she straightens and taps Aaron's shoulder to make him turn around.

He does so abruptly, dropping the hose onto the ground without a second thought before he comes to meet me at the gate.

My heart stutters through a few beats when he comes to an uncertain halt a few feet away from me, voice soft as he says, "Hey."

"Hey," I breathe.

It's the first time since my fight with Bryce that we're face to face. Just looking at him makes something inside my chest hurt; he's wearing the Into the Spiderverse t-shirt, his skin painted golden by the setting sun. His eyes are wide and warm, staring back at me like he can't believe I'm here.

I can't really believe it either. I've thought about how it would be a million times, spent entire nights laying out my sentences, planning every detail of what I'd say. Now that he's not even an arm's length away, all the words are gone.

All I manage is, "I listened to your playlist."

He swallows. "Okay."

We're both silent again, the quiet so heavy I can almost feel it on my shoulders. Behind Aaron, his mom turns off the hose and disappears inside the house with another glance in our direction, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Did you understand it?" Aaron blurts, directing my attention back at him. He scratches at his neck, looks down for a second the way he always does when he's nervous. "You know, it's... it's okay if you did and you don't feel the same. Just tell me and we don't have to talk about it agai—"

"Aaron," I cut him off. My voice sounds different, a little bit breathless, tinged with giddy disbelief. "I do. I do feel the same way."

He blinks, once, twice. Then, his eyes widen. "Oh."

Another silence, neither of us really meeting the other's gaze. Instead, mine is fixed on where Aaron's hand is clutching onto the garden gate, on the flimsy friendship bracelet around his wrist.

Maybe it's that sight that gives me the courage to murmur, "I'm... I'm really sorry about how everything went down."

"Me too," he says. And then it's like the dam that has been holding his words back the entire time breaks, and he rushes out, "I shouldn't have kissed you that night, not without talking about everything with you first, but in the moment it was so easy and I thought it was okay, but then you ran away and I-- I fucked it up. I'm sorry."

"Wait." Now it's my turn to blink at him in disbelief. "I thought I kissed you that night?"

At that, he finally meets my eyes. "What?"