Where We Go From Here by Lucas Rocha

Author:Lucas Rocha
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

IAN HANDS ME THE PHONE. He seems a bit frustrated.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Out of battery.”

“Oh, crap. I should have plugged it in before I left my house.”

I’m not too worried, though, since Sandra is with me, and whenever my phone dies, my mom calls her to make sure I’m still alive.

I put the phone back in my pocket and turn my attention to the stage.

I step closer to Henrique, smiling, and hold his hand. We look at the stage and stay that way, like two silly lovebirds, hand in hand.

Silly. That’s a bit how I feel when I’m by his side, as if my head were too light and floating across space, away from my worries. The fear now plays only a small cameo in something much larger and way more intense.

Love. Is that what I’m feeling, after all? This sensation that being next to him is the best feeling in the world, is this what the experts call being in love? I don’t know if there’s a rational definition or if what’s in the dictionary corresponds precisely to this mix of emotions boiling inside me. All I know is that it feels good, that holding hands with him is the only thing I need right now. Not the sex we’ve already had, the kisses we’ve already exchanged, or the way we’ve been doing things up to this point, like we’re in a nonlinear movie, but just this: intertwined fingers, his warm hand against my cold one, the silence as the two of us pay attention to the stage, the slight squeeze he gives my hand, signaling that the show is about to start.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” I hear his voice in my ear, and I lower my head a little so he doesn’t have to strain his neck so much. His voice is a little slow, and I know he’s drunk. “I didn’t think you were going to come tonight …”

“I thought about not coming,” I admit. “But something told me I would regret it.”

He opens his mouth in a goofy smile. A drunk smile.

“And I might have … thought some things … and said some things that aren’t true.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I left you a message on—”

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” I say, because I don’t want to think about our arguments. His breath on my ear is passionate and intense and sends shivers down the back of my neck. “I don’t want to … think about what’s in the past.”

So I come closer to his lips and kiss them. At first he responds shyly, but little by little he increases the intensity, as if he wants us to become one. And that kiss shows me how I’m not the only one who’s vulnerable, not the only one who’s afraid and doesn’t know what his future is going to look like, not the only one trying to be happy, despite all things conspiring against that happiness.

We pull away when the music and lights become frantic and smoke from the stage takes over the entire club.

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