Page 14 of The Last Special Thing

Pleasantly buzzed, she leaned against a pillar, soaking in the summer sun. Madisson and Max started another round as winners, and a breeze brushed her skin.

A shadow came over her, and she deduced it was Art, based on his sheer lanky height.

“You want to have an adventure?” he asked.

“You ask me to go on a lot of adventures for someone who literally just met me.”

They have already held hands and kissed. What more could be in store for a second day of knowing someone?

“When I see a good adventure person, I know.” His eyes washed over her, and her chest tightened.

She didn’t know what kind of adventure he saw in her. Her life was curated with acceptable activities and good enough grades.

“What’s in the backpack?” She lifted her chin in its direction.

The frayed black backpack he was wearing had a few band patches on it–Glass Animals, All Time Low, and Taking Back Sunday. His hands gripped the straps, keeping them close.

“Adventure, yes or no?” he pressed.

She glanced back at Madisson.

“Madisson, you’re done after this!” she hollered, making her decision. She hadn’t been killed by him yet, and the alcohol boosted her confidence.

Madisson gave a thumbs up, then pivoted back to the game.

“I’ve got her,” Max assured.

Amelia didn’t believe he had anyone but himself, if that. But, as long as Madisson quit after this round, she would be alright.

“Yes,” she told Art and followed him out of the courtyard.

“You don’t like Max,” he observed.

“I don’t know you,” she replied in a non-answer.

“You keep saying that. But you’re going to know me, Amelia, and you’re going to love me.”

“You’re pretty sure about it.”

He shrugged and then nodded.

Amelia let Art lead her down the block. She assumed they were going to the beach, where everyone else was on the holiday. After another block, they spilled into the main road, a sea of red, white, and blue. It was loud, chaotic, and alive. With a tug, Art pulled her into an alley.

He surveyed the area. It was quieter in the strip behind the chain drugstore. He knelt and unzipped the backpack. The bottom was discolored from use. Amelia had traded backpacks for oversized purses in the seventh grade—a new one for each new semester. Art’s backpack had to have been worn extensively for years.

He scanned the alley once more before he deemed the area clear, pulling out an assortment of firework packages and laying several on the pavement before him. He picked one out, then tossed the others back in the pack.

“I don’t know where you’re from exactly, to the East, but those aren’t legal here.”

“Why do you think we’re in the alley?” His blue eyes sparkled, and she said nothing else.

Down a few paces, he set the first firework on the ground. Pulling a white lighter from his back pocket, he sparked the flame against the long firework string. As it sizzled, he bolted, grabbing the backpack and Amelia’s arm. He yanked them out of the alleyway and against the back of the building. Her heart raced as his chest pressed against hers.

The next flame reached the firework, exploding with a boom and a flurry of white and yellow before dissipating into smoke.

Amelia’s eyes widened. “I officially think you’re insane.”

“I think you're gorgeous.”