Fighting For Normal

More Than a Backyard BBQ

The backyard was filled with the smell of summer. Charred burgers and roasting sweet corn mixed in the warm air, promising a tasty dinner. Dad, the grill master, stood over the smoky flames, his silver tongs snapping rhythmically against the grate. Occasionally, he adjusted a patty with focused care, his brow furrowed.

I watched Stetson across the sunny yard. He was stretched out in a faded green lawn chair, his shoulder touching Noelle’s. A loose strand of my braid brushed my cheek as I shifted. Noelle laughed at something he whispered, tilting her head back to reveal the delicate line of her throat. I rolled my eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and jealousy. That kind of easy confidence wasn’t in my nature. My navy blue denim shorts suddenly felt stiff against my legs.

Chandler leaned against the wooden fence, one worn sneaker resting on it, fingers hooked in the pockets of his olive shorts. His soft gray tee clung just enough to his arms to make my brain freeze. He murmured something to Ashton, followed by a low laugh. Then he looked my way. My stomach flipped, a silly flutter under my pale yellow tank top. You’re not thirteen. Stop blushing. I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my cheeks from reddening. My silver hoop earrings, usually comforting, felt heavy against my ears.

Maekynzie lay dramatically on a checkered picnic blanket, her long legs tangled with Emory’s. She sighed loudly. “Ugh, the sun hates me today.” Emory chuckled and flicked a grape at her. She shrieked playfully, batting him with a hand full of colorful beaded bracelets.

Tinsley sat on a bright blue cooler, one leg bouncing to the upbeat indie pop playing from the Bluetooth speaker. Her dark red Converse tapped a restless rhythm. She locked eyes with Ashton when he laughed at Chandler, his grin wide. Ashton subtly flexed his bicep - definitely on purpose. Tinsley groaned quietly. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal,” I muttered, barely above the music. Tinsley snorted, and we laughed. She popped open a can of Dr. Pepper, the fizz sharp, and handed it to me with a wink. The cold metal felt good in my hand.

Uncle Jake watched from the shade under the old oak tree, his worn baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, quiet and steady.

“Alright, people!” Noelle’s bright voice broke through the afternoon. “Who’s ready for a game of two-hand touch?”

Maekynzie groaned loudly, covering her eyes with her arm. “If I get tackled, I’m suing.”

“You can’t sue us, Maekynzie,” Emory said dryly, tossing the football to Ashton, who caught it easily.

Tinsley smirked from her seat on the cooler, arms crossed. “Well, you can try.”

I sighed, brushing grass off my thighs as I stood up. The rough denim of my shorts rubbed against my skin.

Chandler jogged backward onto the field, clapping his hands. “Alright, dream team, let’s go. Ashton, you’re with me.”

Stetson groaned theatrically. “What, again? Fine. Noelle, we’re crushing them.”

“You wish,” she shot back, tying her golden hair into a high ponytail. My braid felt tight and ready for the chaos ahead.

The game started with laughter and quick feet. Sneakers hit the warm grass. Someone yelled “hike!” too early, voice cracking with excitement. No one cared. The rules were loose at best. I ran toward the far end zone, zigzagging through arms. Chandler faked left, spun right, and tapped Stetson’s back.

“You’re down!” he called, grinning.

“You’re annoying,” Stetson muttered, out of breath but smiling.

Maekynzie dodged the football like it was a bomb. Emory moved casually but always ended up in the right spot. Tinsley finally joined after Ashton’s sharp eye-roll and a tight spiral pass that slipped past my fingers.

“Too far!” I laughed, cheeks flushed from the effort and fun. My heart pounded happily.

We kept playing until the passes got sloppy and defense slowed. Hunger started winning.

From the grill, the smell of charred meat and sweet corn drifted through the yard. Pops stood by the picnic table, rustling chips from a plastic bag, claiming first pick. Dad arranged burger toppings - crisp lettuce, red tomato slices, pickles, and sharp onions - like art. Condiments stood ready beside his prized homemade barbecue sauce.

I moved toward the table, stomach louder than nerves. Warm air brushed my arms. I hesitated, then Stetson bumped my shoulder playfully and grabbed a second burger with a wink.

“Rude,” I whispered, but I smiled. He just grinned, taking a big bite.

Noelle piled her plate high. “Gotta fuel up for the next round!” she said, balancing a corn cob like a trophy.

Chandler shook his head, amused, flipping a bun onto his plate. “I think we’re done, Noelle.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, eyes sparkling.

Tinsley grabbed chips from the bowl, crunching loudly. Maekynzie muttered something about “barbarians.”

I made my plate - a modest burger with ketchup and some chips - and sat in a metal patio chair. The warm aluminum pressed against my denim thighs, still holding the sun’s heat. Voices blended in the fading light, a comforting buzz. Someone turned the music up, the bass pulsing softly through the ground.

I set my empty plate on the table, the plastic clinking softly, and wiped my hands on my denim shorts. The warm fabric from the sun soaked up the grease.

“Walk with me?”

I looked up, surprised. Chandler was already standing with his hands in his pockets, waiting. From the corner of my eye, I saw Stetson watching us but saying nothing, still eating his burger.

I nodded, and we stepped off the patio onto the cracked sidewalk. The quiet was filled with the distant buzz of cicadas as we passed dim houses, their windows glowing soft gold or blue. The pavement under my sneakers still held the day’s heat, warming through the thin soles.

Chandler sighed and kicked a loose pebble ahead of us. “You know,” he said lightly, but with a sharp edge, “I don’t think you go to the dentist that often.”

My stomach tightened. I kept my eyes on the streetlights flickering on, casting amber pools on the asphalt.

“Maybe you have some secret dental routine,” he continued, smirking faintly in the fading light. “But I doubt it.”

I laughed quietly - not because it was funny, but because he was right. Chandler saw through my weak excuses and wouldn’t let the lie stand. My silver hoops swung as I shook my head.

A comfortable silence stretched between us, full of unspoken understanding.

“I’ll tell you,” I said finally, quietly promising. “Just… not yet.”

Chandler looked at me, unreadable in the dusk, sensing the weight of my words. Then he nodded, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Alright,” he said softly but firmly. “When you’re ready.”

We kept walking, side by side, our sneakers crunching on the pavement, the cicadas filling the quiet. Streetlamps cast long shadows that stretched ahead then shrank behind us as we passed beneath each light.

Chandler nudged my shoulder gently, his touch warm and familiar. “You know,” he said softly, teasing, “I really hate this whole ‘unofficially unofficial’ thing.”

I smirked, glancing at him sideways. “Oh yeah? You seemed fine with it yesterday.”

He scoffed, running his hand through his hair, strands catching the streetlamp’s glow. “Well, yesterday I wasn’t walking around wishing I could just kiss you in public.”

My stomach flipped at how casually he said it, like it was the most natural thing, like it was meant to be. A warm thrill spread through me.

I stopped and faced him fully. We stood under a streetlamp now, its light casting soft shadows on his jaw, making his eyes look darker, softer, and more intense.

“Well,” I whispered, tilting my chin up, “there’s no one around.”

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes moving from mine to my lips. Then he stepped closer, his hand resting on my waist like it belonged there. There was no rush, just that slow, electric pull we’d felt from the start, a magnetic force drawing us together.

Finally, his lips met mine.

It felt natural, like falling into something both familiar and new. The world shrank to the gentle press of his hands on my sides, the soft brush of his thumb on my hip, and the quiet sigh he breathed against my lips, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night. The air thickened with unspoken longing.

I moved closer, deepening the kiss, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. Outside our bubble, everything faded, leaving only the warmth of his embrace.

After a moment, when the air between us was warm and full of silent understanding, Chandler pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting lightly against mine.

As Chandler and I walked back toward the house, the sound of voices and soft music grew clearer. The back porch glowed with string lights, casting a warm glow on the people gathered near the table.

We slowed as we reached the yard, moving from the quiet street into the lively group. The scene felt almost like a movie - Pops laughing with Emory over a silly story, Dad offering Noelle more grilled corn with his usual serious look, and Stetson tossing a football while scanning the lawn.

I hesitated, not out of fear or a desire to hide, but because it felt heavy to slip back into this familiar rhythm. Chandler noticed my pause.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. His hand brushed mine and stayed there, warm and comforting. “You good?”

I nodded and, surprising myself, leaned in just enough to kiss him. This time, it was quieter, more real - a moment held in the calm before the party noise returned.

Chandler pulled back slightly, his breath warm by my ear. His voice was low, carrying a smile I could feel. “I can’t wait to stop sneaking around.”

I raised an eyebrow, playful. “Even when we’re this good at it?”

He laughed, a deep, honest sound that softened into something tender. “Still. I want to kiss you in front of everyone without feeling like I’m stealing something.”

I paused, then softly said, “Me too.”

The backyard buzzed with a slow, happy energy - half-full paper plates scattered on tables, Pops humming off-key, and Emory and Tinsley locked in a heated debate over who could roast the perfect marshmallow. Somewhere beyond the trees, a soft thump echoed, a quiet prelude.

Then the sky lit up.

A burst of color blossomed above - a deep blue flower against the twilight, quickly followed by bright gold and scarlet. The first firework drew everyone’s gaze upward, a collective gasp spreading through the yard.

“Ooooh,” Noelle whispered dramatically, clutching Maekynzie’s arm. “This is like a movie finale.”

“You say that every year,” Maekynzie replied dryly, but her wide grin showed she loved it.

I settled into an Adirondack chair, pulling my knees close, feeling the warm night around me. Chandler sat down beside me without a word, his thigh brushing mine in a quiet, comforting touch. Stetson sat cross-legged on the grass nearby, his eyes reflecting the green and gold sparkles as another firework exploded above.

Pops, sitting on the steps with a paper plate on his knee, called toward the house, “Better view out here, Jake!”

Uncle Jake walked through the screen door with a steaming coffee mug, chuckling as he joined them on the porch. “Didn’t know I was missing front-row seats.”

The show built to a crescendo - red, silver, violet bursts growing louder and brighter. Laughter mixed with awe as voices rose with each boom. From the porch, a Bluetooth speaker played music softly, blending perfectly with the night. No one turned it off; it just became part of the moment.

In that moment, I leaned slightly against Chandler - not to show off, just quietly content. Stetson glanced back, noticing the small shift, then gave a tiny, proud smile just for me.

The fireworks faded into quiet echoes, the last sparks drifting down like glowing embers. The silhouettes in the yard slowly returned to their conversations, laughter flowing easily into the night.

Dad leaned against Pops, resting his head gently on his shoulder. “That,” he murmured softly, “was timed perfectly.” Pops squeezed Dad’s hand.

Stetson, lying on the grass with his arms behind his head, called out to the smoky sky. “I’d give it a solid 9.5. Losing half a point because my name wasn’t spelled out in glitter.”

“You have to pay extra for that,” Emory said dryly from the porch.

“Or know a guy,” Tinsley added, flipping a marshmallow with a mischievous smile.

Noelle hummed along to the music, swaying gently, full of carefree joy. Maekynzie raised her root beer in an over-the-top toast. “To America, drama, and burnt sugar.”

I let it all wash over me. For a moment, everything felt paused - the weight I carried, the decisions I delayed, the scan results still unspoken. They were still there, but quieter now, pushed to the edges by the warmth of the moment.

Without words, Chandler shifted closer, a silent offer of support. He dipped his head and kissed my temple - slow and sure, his lips warm against my skin.

I didn’t say anything. I just exhaled deeply, letting go of some tension. My fingers brushed his on the armrest, a light, almost accidental touch that settled into a quiet, comfortable connection. Not clinging, just there.

For now, that was enough.