A New Reflection

15. Bonding

Mirroring Alex's actions, I open a box and serve a slice of veggie pizza onto my paper plate. He grabs a large handful of cheddar sour cream Ruffles and scoops up a heap of salad, and I copy him, wordless, as if following in a buffet line. We each select a can of soda, and I walk several paces behind him back towards the family room.

The girls are wolfing down food and clowning around; it's loud and everyone is in excellent spirits. Kelsey fiddles with the TV, and I soon realize she is setting up a karaoke machine. This should be entertaining. I notice Beck off to the far side of the room, slouched down in an armchair scrolling on her phone. She appears somewhere between dejected and peacefully resigned, and there is a part of me that feels sorry for her.

Settling on the floor with my legs crossed under the coffee table, I consume my pizza with great care, attempting not to spill onto the beige carpeting. I steal glances at Alex, who has resumed his position on the armrest of the loveseat and is devouring his salad with huge, careless bites. He's got dressing all over his lips, but there's nothing unattractive about how he is eating; if I'm being honest, it is completely endearing.

He glances my way, lighting our two sets of eyes on fire for an instant before I flick mine down.

"Testing! Testing!" Kelsey calls into the microphone. "Okay, it's working. Who wants to start?"

Several of my teammates leap up and huddle around Kelsey to check out the song list she has on her phone. They yell out titles and artists and banter over the options.

"'Love Story,' 'Love Story!'"Ariya insists, making her selection.

"You're a Swiftie?" Holly jests her.

"Shut up and sing with me," Ariya retorts back.

They begin belting out the song, and when I glance over at Alex, he has his eyebrows raised in an expression of mock-misery at having to endure this situation. I snicker without making any sounds.

Kelsey sings next, then Holly with Kathy. Beck is in the school choir as well as theater, but she makes no motion to volunteer for karaoke until Kelsey beckons her up with a swift flick of the wrist.

"Come on, Beck."

"Your turn." A few of the girls encourage her, and I suppose it's a gesture of forgiveness, or at least of acceptance.

She sings without any gusto, as if embarrassed to show off, but her voice is beautiful. I stare at her, analyze her expression, which appears to me in this moment to reflect depth and insight. I get this emotional tickle in my throat whenever I witness people my age displaying artistic talent. Taking in Beck's features now, I'm reminded that people are many things all tangled together.

My eyes drift again, compulsively, to Alex. He's on his phone, ignoring Beck, and a little river of relief washes through my system as my mind flashes to her in a low-cut dress vying for his attention at the restaurant several weeks back. Alex peeks up from his phone, catches me staring at him and hides a smile in his lips.

"Pst." I recognize this sound from the kitchen earlier, and my eyes dart back his direction. He subtly pats the empty space next to him on the sofa and somehow connects to me with just one eye. A quick rotation of his wrist emphasizes his request.

Praying I haven't misinterpreted the gesture, I stand up and move to the couch, awkwardly bringing my soggy paper plate. I infer from Alex's neutrally pleased expression that I've read his body language correctly.

At first I sit there rigid, afraid of letting my body make contact with his. Alex's presence is all around me, hanging, overflowing into my space from the armrest where he's perched.