unREASONable by Arya Matthews

Track 29

Alexandra

Fiona and I get dressed for the evening.

“So, let’s not make a big deal out of this, okay?” I say to her. “I only want the guys to see some amazing singing techniques.”

And to celebrate my birthday without anyone knowing. Both Connor and Kiera called me this week to ask what I wanted to do, but I convinced them that opera would be enough. A date with Marshall is enough. I’ll find a way to get some dessert later and sing a birthday song to myself in my mind as I eat it. Although, I guess, I can’t call it a date since I’ve been friend zoned. Whatever. Marshall can define tonight as whatever he wants. For me, it’s a date. The first one and the last one.

Fiona finishes slipping her black dress on and gives me a questioning look but refrains from commenting. I wonder if she’ll unleash them later. Probably with Elise, Charlie, and Juliette present for it.

She comes over and gives my hair a final brushing and a few spritzes of hair spray. “Green is good on you,” she says about my dark green velvet gown with exposed shoulders and long sleeves.

“It’s so comfy.” I twirl on the spot. “And! It has pockets. What kind of a formal gown has pockets?” I’ve worn plenty for my singing recitals. None of them were this cool.

“Yours apparently.” Fiona smiles and runs a hand over her sleek hairdo. “Let’s go downstairs. CJ texted me that they’re coming to pick us up.”

When I asked her to invite someone to complete our group, she picked CJ. I’m beyond curious why. Are they friends? Are they very good friends?

While we wait for our escort, Fiona goes to grab a drink from the kitchen, and I pace in the living room. That is, I take several steps around the plush gray rug, then scoff at myself for being nervous. In all fairness, I should be fully justified in my nervousness before a date with Marshall. Stormy, moody, unpredictable. So much more patient as of late. He finally acts like he’s gotten used to me, but my insides still roil with anxiety.

A loud knock on the door cuts through the silence. I run my hands over my gown one last time and square my shoulders.

No fear.

Watch out, Marshall’s heart. Here I come.

Fiona returns from the kitchen and gets the door. I tiptoe to the hall that leads to the entryway and peek around the corner.

“You guys look a treat,” Fiona says without a drop of bashfulness. “Alexandra, you ready?”

I come into the entryway and stare at CJ and Zach dressed in fine black suits.

“Matryoshka, are you okay?” CJ asks.

I’m incapable of explaining the difference between my expectations and who stands in front of me. I expected CJ and Marshall, not CJ and Zach.

“I have a stomachache all of a sudden.”

It’s not a lie. My stomach feels as if someone punched me. Or at least I imagine that’s what being punched in the gut feels like. Hands on my middle, I turn away.

Fiona guides me to a sofa in the side room. “Would some water help or are you feeling like you’re going to throw up?”

“I’m sorry to say this, but her face matches the color of her dress,” Zach says. “I don’t think we should go.”

“You were fine earlier.” Fiona’s tone isn’t accusing, only worried.

I didn’t expect to react that way. I didn’t expect Marshall to bail because that’s what it is. I check my phone, and there are no missed calls or voicemail notifications or texts.

“No. No need to cancel the evening because of me.”

Fiona sits next to me, looking miserable. “But you’re the one who wanted to do this in the first place. I’m staying with you.”

“No. I’ll go lay down, and you just…just go.”

CJ crouches before me. “But—”

“Go and have fun. Please.” Feeling sick to my core, I leave them and stumble upstairs, drop onto the top step, and hide my eyes behind my hands.

Car doors slam outside. They drive off.

My eyes sting and my lip trembles. I bite it. I will not cry like a little girl. So what if I’ll miss out on something I’ve been looking forward to for weeks? I’m not sick enough to stay home, but I don’t want to spend the evening with Zach. If I did, I would’ve let Kiera throw me a party.

I heave myself off the floor, go to my bedroom, and fling the top desk drawer open. The list, folded and innocent, sits in the corner. I grab it, unfold it, and cross out the bottom line, the one about being friends with Marshall, with such force I strike a long gash through the paper. The hole resembles the one in my heart too much. I crumble the paper in my fist, throw it back in the drawer, shove it closed, then return to sitting at the top of the stairs, away from the useless sheet of paper that represented all my hopes and dreams.

No matter how hard I resist, tears overcome me. They drag me to the golden, carpeted floor, oddly soft under my cheeks, and I sink into it, weak and angry with myself.

The front door opens and closes again. I listen to the sound of steps until it stops. After a minute of cutting silence, wary curiosity gets me. I push off the floor and turn around.

Hands in his trouser pockets, Zach stands at the bottom of the stairs. I’ve never seen such a grave expression on his face before. “Alexandra, would you please come down?”

I can only imagine the mess my makeup has become. “No.”

“Please?”

Fine. I stomp downstairs, stopping on the second-to-last step so that I can be at least the same height as the tall pianist. “Did Marshall get sick?”

Zach shakes his head.

“Did something else happen?”

“No.”

“He asked you to come instead of him, didn’t he?”

Zach nods.

“Why did you agree?” I shout.

Sadness followed by anger is normal for me. I’m guaranteed to feel bad later, but for now Zach will have to deal with me.

He shrugs. “I figured it’d cause less damage if I went with his harebrained scheme than let him come up with something else.”

I want to press myself against the wall and become one with the plaster, hide from Zach’s patience and knowing eyes.

“Less damage? How considerate of you.” A new wave of tears floods my eyes, but I blink it away and breathe through my nose, lips clenched tight.

Zach steps closer and wipes my cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” And I won’t listen to the one who does. Not again.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Zach’s soft hands cup my face and hold me captive.

“Do I have a choice?”

He smiles. “Not really. And you must promise me you’ll keep it between us no matter what, no matter how mad you get at Marshall.”

Intriguing. “I promise.” What exactly did I sign up for?

“The secret isn’t quite mine, it’s Marshall’s, but I’ll share it with you anyway.”

No thanks. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”

“But you really do.” Zach leans to whisper in my ear, “His secret is that he’s extremely insecure.”

I snort. “Marshall? Insecure? Have you seen the guy? Handsome, confident, and knows it too.”

“It’s all a show, same as on the stage.”

“Zach, please. Don’t defend him. I’ll only get mad at you too.”

“You already are.” He adjusts my bangs. “I’m not defending him. I’m giving you a strategic advantage against him.”

I have to take a moment to process this. “There’s no such thing with Marshall.” No matter what I attempt, nothing works.

He still holds my face, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Just watch him. He acts put together and like he doesn’t care about anything to conceal how much he struggles with change. And you have been an enormous change in all of our lives. Plus, you’re awesome. You came halfway across the world to do something out of your comfort zone and endured all of his criticisms without giving up. He probably feels like he’s not good enough for you or something, especially when you’re with CJ.”

“What does CJ have to do with anything?”

Zach douses me with a dubious look and shakes his head. “Seems like we have more than one oblivious person in the pile.”

He steps away, and I suck in a deep breath. Zach sure can have a hefty effect when he wants to. Until he moved, I didn’t even realize how he filled all of the space around me.

“How am I oblivious?”

“What does CJ have to do with anything?” Zach throws my question back at me as he takes off his tie.

“We’re just friends.”

“You two seem a little too close for just friends.”

“Anyone can tell there’s nothing between me and CJ,” I grumble. “He’s like a brother to me.”

Zach laughs and rubs his forehead. “Alexandra, come on.”

“Okay, enough. We’re not talking about this anymore. I’m over Marshall’s antics and him altogether.”

“Are you now?” He’s next to me once more, our faces inches apart. Zach’s eyes are full of mischief and challenge. “Then you won’t mind if I do this?” He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me into him.

I grab his shoulders. Heat floods my face and my breath sticks in my throat. “Zach?”

“Yes?”

His nose brushes against mine. Is he really going to kiss me? Not if I have a say in it.

“What did I tell you about touching me?” I grab his ear and tug hard.

Zach hisses and leans into my hand. “Hey, hey. Easy now.”

“Even if I wasn’t in love with Marshall, why are you such a pain?”

With a pleased smirk, Zach murmurs, “So you do love him.”

“No!” I drop my hand and take a clumsy step up the stairs.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Zach heads toward the kitchen. “Your secret is safe with me.”

My heart encrusts itself with panicked ice. I run after him. “Just like Marshall’s secret?”

He checks my cabinets and fridge.

“Zach!”

“I’ll keep your secret because I want to see Marshall squirm. He’s my friend, but for goodness’ sake, he deserves to suffer for ruining our matryoshka’s birthday.”

I gasp. “Is there nothing you don’t know?”

He chuckles and sets two large mugs on the countertop. “I have three older sisters who taught me, in rather tangible ways, that you don’t forget about the birthdays of women in your life, no matter the relationship. I found out yours as soon as you got here.”

I slump onto a bar stool next to the kitchen island. “Ugh, Fiona.”

“Kiera, actually. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell anyone else because you didn’t act like you wanted a party.”

A canister of flour, a stick of butter, eggs, baking powder, milk and vanilla extract follow the mugs. I have no clue what Zach’s doing until he mixes up something that looks like cake batter in one of the mugs and sticks it into the microwave.

“This is not the best but better than nothing,” he says. “Unless, of course, you still feel like going out with me tonight.”

I shake my head. “Sorry, it’s not because of you.”

Zach starts slicing a pear from a fruit basket on the island. “I know.”

We don’t say anything more until the second cake in a mug finishes cooking. Zach tops both of them with thinly sliced fruit and sticks a fork in each. “Dig in?”

I deposit a heap of cake and pears into my mouth and exhale. It’s so good despite the method of cooking. Sweet, fruity, crumbly. It hits every exhausted piece of my heart just right. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And Marshall may be an idiot, but you don’t have to be one along with him. Tell him how you feel.”

I choke on the cake. “What? Never. And you can’t breathe a word of this to him. You spent the evening with me. That’s all he needs to know. Same as everyone else. Don’t say a word about my birthday. Promise me.”

Zach sighs. “Fine.”

We finish the cake, and when I see him off, Zach lingers in the doorway and fishes in his jacket pocket. My eyes catch a sparkle of silver, then he stands behind me and clasps a necklace around my neck.

A small, cool to the touch pendant rests on the skin on my chest—a thin, delicate bar, with five small amethyst hearts across it.

“One for each of us. Happy birthday, Alexandra. Sorry it was such a bust.” Zach plants a quick kiss on my cheek.

Now, that kiss, friendly and innocent, is more than welcome. “Not entirely a bust.”

Zach smiles, back to his usual, cheerful self. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

The moment he steps off the porch, I disappear inside, climb upstairs, and curl up in my bed. I have no strength to think about Marshall anymore or to deal with what’s left of today.