{WATTYS 2021/2022 SHORTLIST}{Editor's Pick} {Featured Story}
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One girl. Two boys. An impossible choice.
Stella LaFever, a theatre student from California, can't wait to spend a summer in Newport, Rhode I...
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Chapter Song: I'll Be the Moon by Dierks Bentley
West walked me back to Leona's old pickup truck, thumbs tucked in his pockets, kicking street dust.
My thoughts drifted between each story he'd woven out there on the grass. Snowy winters and ice hockey with his brothers. Drunken karaoke nights down in Annapolis. He even told me every Korean curse word he knew—most of which he'd learned from his grandma, who moved from South Korea after his grandpa died.
I didn't want to think about Lumière or the play—I was content living in West's memories.
West was this messy, complicated combination of worlds. He was imperfect and jagged and raw.
"You sure you're okay to drive?" he asked. "I don't mind taking you home. I'd feel better knowing you made it safe."
I was having trouble meeting his steady gaze, choosing to focus on my nail polish. "You've already done enough. I mean, I'm sure I'm keeping you from something more important."
West went quiet. And when I finally looked at him, his jaw was working. A strained look on his face.
"Stella," he began. "There's nothing more important..." His voice trailed off. The sentence dying on his lips.
I waited for him to finish, my heart skittering in my chest. West opened his mouth. Closed it. Struggling with whatever he wanted to say.
"Nothing more important than what?" I asked.
Instead of answering, West just shook his head and muttered, "Never mind." His eyes finding the street. He went quiet again.
"Stella, are you sure you're okay?"
My response came automatically. The lie as well-rehearsed as any line in a play. "Yeah. I'm fine."
I had to be fine because if I wasn't, what would I be? Lost? A sobbing mess?
"You wanna know a secret?" West asked, leaning in. The intensity of his syrupy brown eyes pulled me an inch closer. "I'm not okay. I'm a complete wreck. I don't even know who I am anymore." West ran his hand through jet black hair. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I know how easy it is to look for a distraction from the pain."
Distractions were the only thing keeping me sane. The only thing keeping me from imploding.
I drew in a breath, and his hand landed beside my shoulder on the truck bed. "Will you promise me something, Stella?"
"I suppose that depends on what you want."
"Just—just promise you won't let the distractions keep you from being who you were meant to be. Who you really are. You're such a strong person."
