27. Chandler

TWENTY-SEVEN

chandler

"Willow, have you ever done one of these overnight decoration things?" I hollered as I stuffed a pair of socks into my duffle bag.

"Yep!" Her reply floated in from the living room. "Not last year. No championship win, no parade. But the year before… oh, it was a blast!"

I paused, a t-shirt half-rolled in my hands. "What's it like?"

"Imagine this," she began, animatedly as she painted the picture, "the whole gym is ours, right? We're decking out the float, munching on everything in sight, sipping whatever we sneak in, and just chillin'. And when our eyelids get heavy, bam! We pass out whenever we want."

I sighed. "A sleepover with Caroline, her crew, and the entire Blue Devils’ team—minus Boston of course—doesn’t sound like a party to me."

"Do we need an escape plan?" Willow's lips curved into a grin, knowing all too well my history with Caroline.

"Absolutely." I nodded firmly. "A quick getaway could be essential for survival."

Willow snickered. "I got your back, girl," she called out, rifling through her closet with purpose. "Besides, I'm throwing a bottle of wine for each of us in my bag."

"Perfect," I yelled, tossing my striped pink pajamas into the mix of essentials spread across my bed.

As I zipped up my bag, sadness struck me knowing I wouldn’t get to see Boston. He was getting on a flight, and things were still a mess with us. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the unsettling thoughts. What did it even matter? That night at karaoke, he had basically said this—we—would go nowhere. And the last few weeks he had been sending an obvious message, making it evident where we stood. Boston had never been an open book—he was more like trying to read a book with most of the pages torn out. I sighed and glanced at the mirror, catching a glimpse of my own anxious eyes staring back.

When we arrived, the auditorium doors swung open with a creak, revealing a crafter's dream. Cots were stacked up against the walls, and the barely started float sat in the center, begging for decoration. Surrounding it were tables cluttered with ribbons, paper flowers, and glue guns.

"Looks like Caroline's been busy," I said, nodding towards the organized chaos.

"Or she's just good at delegating," Willow quipped from beside me, her eyes scanning the room.

I weaved through the room to claim a cot, draping my overnight bag over its metal frame. It was then that Parker strolled in.

"Are you people sure you want my help?" he asked, eyeing the float skeptically. "I failed art. Always more of a sports guy."

"Failed art? How is that even possible?" I asked, incredulous. My hands paused on the zipper of my bag.

"Told you, I’m a sports guy," he reiterated with a nonchalant shrug. "Skipped it to have two P.E’s instead."

I shook my head. "You're ridiculous, Parker."

He grinned, flashing his set of pearly whites at me. "Hey, if it's any consolation, I'll be your muscle for the heavy lifting tonight."

"Hey, crank up that volume!" someone called out from across the auditorium. The speakers buzzed to life, and soon the room was pulsating with music. Everyone seemed to move with a new energy, their hands reaching for streamers, glue guns, and glitter.

"Pass me those ribbons, will ya?" Willow asked, juggling a stack of construction paper under one arm. I tossed a spool of shiny blue ribbon in her direction.

Reese strolled in, then. His casual demeanor stood out, surrounded by the frenzy of activity around him. Caroline, ever the taskmaster, didn't miss a beat. She thrust a pair of scissors and a stack of cardstock into his hands. "Glad you could join us, Reese."

He smiled and got to work. As time slipped away, our collective efforts began to resemble something parade-worthy. The float was taking shape. Then, without warning, darkness swallowed the room.

"Nobody panic," Caroline yelled. "This happens sometimes when we use the speakers. Let's find the breaker box. Also, pizza is on its way, so it's a good time for a break."

"Thank you, pizza gods," Bailey yelled, somewhere near the back.

"Alright, let's split up. We'll find that box quicker. I’m going to call maintenance while we’re looking," Caroline directed before she quickly dialed a phone number and left the room.

Everyone quickly scattered in different directions, while Caroline’s friend Sam rushed to hand out flashlights from a box she’d grabbed from the auditorium closet.

"Willow, you're with me," Parker declared in amusement. "Because you're scared of the dark."

“I am not. Watch, I’ll even lead the way,” Willow teased, her tone light.

"Of course you will," Parker admitted. "Because you're my sunshine."

"Ugh, puke," I interjected, unable to resist the jab at their cheesy exchange.

But they were already moving off together, their laughter fading into the shadows. That's when I realized there was only one person left behind me. I turned to Reese.

"Looks like you're stuck with me again," he said with a grin. "Want to take the other hallway?" he nodded toward the left.

"Sure," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Here, take this," Reese said, handing me a flashlight. I nodded, gripping it tightly and pointing it toward the shadows ahead.

"So, what's been going on with you, Hartford?" Reese asked.

I flashed him a smirk, my flashlight casting shadows on the walls as I moved it from side to side. "Oh, you know, never a dull moment. Just the way the universe thinks I like it."

He flashed one of those dimples of his, barely visible in the dark. "I know a thing or two about that," he said smoothly. There was always an ease about him—a dangerous charm that always somehow drew you into him.

We continued down the narrow, dark hallway, the silence punctuated by the sound of our footsteps. Reese's flashlight beam danced across the walls. As we rounded a corner, the circle of light landed on a colorful poster plastered on the wall.

"Looks like we're at a dead end," I slumped my shoulders.

"Seems that way," Reese responded, but he didn't move the flashlight away from the poster. It was decorated for the Bayside Ball, with swirling fonts and bright pastels.

"It’s tomorrow. You excited?" he asked.

I shrugged, feeling the furthest from excited. "Nah, I don’t think I’m going."

His steps faltered, and he reached out, his fingers gently tipping my chin upward to meet his gaze. "Why not?"

The warmth from his hand radiated into my skin, making me acutely aware of how dangerous it was to be close to him in the narrow space. "It's not as fun when you have to go alone," I confessed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

He dropped his hand, but his eyes remained locked on mine. I continued before he could speak. "I mean, I could still dance, and steal Willow from Parker, but…" my voice trailed off. I looked down again, unable to look him in the eyes any longer.

I couldn't tell Reese how I had hoped Boston would ask me—that this whole summer I wanted to go with him. But Boston was miles away, swept away in a world where I wasn't sure I belonged. So I swallowed the confession, letting it sit heavy on my tongue.

"Let me guess, because you want Riley to take you?"

I clutched the flashlight like a lifeline. "It doesn't matter," I said, blowing it off. "He's hundreds of miles away, doing bigger and better things."

The past few weeks our lives had synced, and I found myself on the edge of daring to believe in something more. But I was no longer sure if this summer meant anything at all to Boston.

"It does matter, Chandler." There was something about the way he said my name—not Hartford, but Chandler—that seemed to reach out and wrap around my ribs, squeezing until I could hardly breathe.

I leaned against the cold wall of the hallway. "Why?"

"Don't do that," he shot back.

"Do what?" I asked, trying to read his expression.

"Act like what you want doesn't matter." There was no mistaking the intensity in his green eyes, even in the darkness.

I shifted uncomfortably, my mind reeling. "What if I don't know what I want?" The question came out more vulnerable than I intended.

He narrowed his eyes at me, before turning away to scan the darkened corners around us. "You know what you want," he said, with a confidence that I envied. "And I think all you have to do is say the word, and he'd drop everything for you."

"It's not that easy, Reese," I shook my head. "I think I really upset him and messed things up, things are... they're complicated."

"Look at me," he commanded softly, and I raised my gaze. "Do you think I've ever let 'complicated' stop me from getting whatever I want? I like a little challenge. Makes things more interesting."

There was something in the way he said it—so assured, so effortlessly Reese—that was sort of comforting. I envied the way he seemed to move through life unscathed by complexities that could so easily take down anyone else.

The moment was interrupted by the newly awakened fluorescent lights overhead.

"Chandler!" Willow's voice echoed down the hallway, shattering the fragile stillness between me and Reese. "Hurry up and come eat before all the pizza is gone!"

"Let's go, Hartford," Reese said, flashing me a wink.

The auditorium buzzed with chatter, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. We sat cross-legged on the floor, paper plates heavy with slices of pepperoni and cheese pizza balanced precariously on our knees. I picked at the toppings. My appetite had fled during my earlier conversation with Reese.

The night continued on for what felt like forever, and we snacked on chips and sipped sodas, voices growing quieter once exhaustion set in. Eventually we retreated to our cots, the lights dimming to a soft glow that barely reached the corners of the room.

I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the sounds of steady breathing around me. My thoughts were a tangled web of conflicting emotions. I had told Boston that everything was okay, that what we had was just summer fun. But I hadn’t been honest—not with him, not with myself.

There were a few empty cots on my right, which made me wonder if one was meant for Boston. I wondered where he was, if he was thinking about me. And then there was Reese, on the left, his presence like a shadow, filled with mystery. How could two people who were so different both have a place in my heart?

I shifted restlessly, pulling the thin blanket up to my chin. Maybe it was the nostalgia of the passing summer or the vulnerability of the night, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something real was slipping through my fingers. Was it possible to hope for more with Boston, even as part of me still clung to the hurt and memories of my past with Reese?

A sigh escaped my lips, unheard in the silent expanse of the auditorium. I felt like I was standing at a crossroads, with my future more uncertain than ever before. Whether it was fear of the unknown or the pain of letting go, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that deep down I hoped for something beyond the simplicity of ”just having fun.”

My eyelids grew heavy as the minutes ticked by, images of Boston and Reese blurring together until they were indistinguishable. In the depth of the night, I finally succumbed to sleep, my dreams a tangled mess, leaving me to wonder if the morning would bring clarity or even more confusion.