What If It's Us
Page 39
“I just put my songs on shuffle.”
Arthur whips out his phone and boom, the Hamilton soundtrack. He plays it from the beginning as we close our eyes, cuddled up against each other. It’s like everything I imagined for myself last night while I was alone in bed and Arthur was on the phone listening with me, except we’re really together this time. This kind of freedom is enough inspiration to go away to college and live in a dorm room where I can hang out with whoever I want whenever I want.
I’m half-asleep, but awake enough that when our stop comes up, I’ll be able to jump up and drag Arthur out of the train before the doors close. Someone kicks my foot and I open my eyes to apologize for stretching out because I’m definitely on some inconsiderate shit, and this guy is hovering over us. He’s holding a little boy’s hand.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No one wants to see that,” the man says, gesturing at me and Arthur with his newspaper. He keeps standing there. Other passengers pay attention.
“See what?” I sit up and Arthur opens his eyes; I get this feeling like he wasn’t really asleep.
“Just keep it at home, okay? I got my kid here.”
“Keep what at home?” I say.
“You know what you’re doing,” the man says. He’s getting red in the face, and I don’t know if he’s pissed or embarrassed because I’m not taking his shit.
“Yeah. I’m hanging out with a guy I like.” I stand up. My heart is pounding because I don’t trust this guy to not do something stupid. But someone is filming him, so if this really goes south, I have hope this will go viral so I can share it with the police so this guy won’t harass anyone else.
“I don’t need my son seeing shit like this on the train when we’re just trying to go home.”
His problem is not a real problem. I’m losing the courage to tell him this. Even though my shoulders are high, my knees are shaking. This guy is going to lay me out any moment. Arthur stands up and I push him behind me.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Arthur says to the man. “We’re not going to do anything else.”
“Screw this guy,” I say. I really wish Dylan were here to back us up.
The man’s son starts crying, like I’m the real aggressor here, like I provoked his asshole father because I was resting with another boy in public. I really feel for this kid and the tough road he may have ahead of him if he likes anyone who isn’t a hetero girl.
The man picks up his son. “You’re lucky I don’t want to pop you in front of my kid.”
Arthur tries dragging me away, and I only step back because he’s begging me and my name is a choked breath and he’s crying and he’s probably more scared than that five-year-old kid. Some guy with a gym bag steps in front of the man and tells him to keep it moving, that it’s done and over.
Except it’s not over, because Arthur and I have to carry this around.
We get off at the next stop and Arthur loses it. I hold his shoulders, like Dylan wants me to do when he’s panicking, but Arthur shakes me off and looks around the platform. “I thought New York was cool with . . .” He takes a deep breath and wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Gay bars and Pride parades and same-sex couples holding hands. What the hell. I thought New York had it together.”
“For the most part, I think. But every city has its assholes.” I want to hug him, but he doesn’t want to be touched right now. Like any affection is going to become a target sign on our backs. Like we’ll get punished because our hearts are different. “Are you okay?”
“No. I’ve never been threatened before. And I was so scared for you. Why didn’t you just stay quiet?”
I should’ve. I shouldn’t have endangered Arthur just because I wanted to speak up for us and everyone like us. “I’m sorry. I was scared too.”
We stand there for a few minutes and when the next train comes, Arthur doesn’t want to get on. Same for the next train. He’s collected himself as best as can be expected by the third train, and he’s only willing to get on because it’s packed so there will be more people to protect us if something happens again.
I don’t like that the same world that brought us together is also scaring him.
“I’m not leaving your side until you’re home,” I say.
Arthur looks around the train, and his tired, hurt blue eyes look up at me.
And his hand links into mine and he doesn’t break the hold the entire ride.
Chapter Twenty-One
Arthur
“Did they respond to your text?” Ben asks as I press the button for the third floor. “I don’t want to walk in on your parents having sex.”
“Eww. They don’t do that.”
“They did at least once.”
“Never. No.” I gag.
“You’re funny.” He takes my hand and smiles. “This place is nice.”
“On behalf of Uncle Milton, thank you.” I pause for a moment in the alcove. When you step off the elevator, there’s not really a hallway—just a little nook with three doors, leading to apartments A, B, and C.
“A for Arthur,” Ben says, like this is the most satisfying coincidence of his life.
“We planned that.”
“I figured,” he says smoothly—but when I glance back at him, he’s chewing his lip.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
I squeeze his hand. “That’s insanely cute.”
And—wow. I’m actually about to do this. I’m bringing this boy home to meet my parents. I’m pretty sure that’s not a typical second-date activity. But maybe Ben and I aren’t typical.
My parents.
I don’t know why I suggested it. Tonight just rattled me, I guess. I can’t stop thinking about the guy on the subway and his crying kid and the look on Ben’s face and the way it made me feel like the whole world was watching me. All I wanted, in that moment, was to be alone. I’ve never wanted to be alone so badly in my entire life.
But Ben stayed. He just stayed. And now I don’t want him to leave. I’m not ready to say goodnight.
I glance back at Ben as I fumble with the keys.
I’m not going to panic. I’m not. This is going to be fine. Totally great. Quick visit. Super casual. So what if my parents know a little too much about Ben. So what if they can barely keep it together around regular friends, much less boyfriends. Not that Ben’s my boyfriend. I can just picture what would happen if I introduced him like that.
Me: Meet my boyfriend, Ben!
Parents: *showering us with condoms* HELLO, BOYFRIEND BEN!!!
Ben: *launches self into the sun*
But—okay. If he’s not my boyfriend, what do I call him? My friend? My gentleman caller? The guy with whom I think about having sex 99 percent of my waking hours? And yes, I mean that both ways. I spend 99 percent of my waking hours thinking about how I’d like to spend 99 percent of my waking hours having sex with Ben.
My parents don’t need to know that.
Okay, I’m just going to casually open this door and breathe and—
“You must be Ben. So nice to finally meet you!” My mom beams up at him from the couch. Where she’s sitting. Right next to Dad.
I gape at them.
She pauses the TV and stands, coming straight over to shake Ben’s hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.” Dad nods pleasantly from the couch, and that’s when I notice they’re both wearing pajamas and glasses. I’m sorry, but what kind of alternate universe did I just step into? What mythical creature bit my parents and turned them into a lovey-dovey Saturday-night-on-the-sofa kind of couple?
Arthur whips out his phone and boom, the Hamilton soundtrack. He plays it from the beginning as we close our eyes, cuddled up against each other. It’s like everything I imagined for myself last night while I was alone in bed and Arthur was on the phone listening with me, except we’re really together this time. This kind of freedom is enough inspiration to go away to college and live in a dorm room where I can hang out with whoever I want whenever I want.
I’m half-asleep, but awake enough that when our stop comes up, I’ll be able to jump up and drag Arthur out of the train before the doors close. Someone kicks my foot and I open my eyes to apologize for stretching out because I’m definitely on some inconsiderate shit, and this guy is hovering over us. He’s holding a little boy’s hand.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No one wants to see that,” the man says, gesturing at me and Arthur with his newspaper. He keeps standing there. Other passengers pay attention.
“See what?” I sit up and Arthur opens his eyes; I get this feeling like he wasn’t really asleep.
“Just keep it at home, okay? I got my kid here.”
“Keep what at home?” I say.
“You know what you’re doing,” the man says. He’s getting red in the face, and I don’t know if he’s pissed or embarrassed because I’m not taking his shit.
“Yeah. I’m hanging out with a guy I like.” I stand up. My heart is pounding because I don’t trust this guy to not do something stupid. But someone is filming him, so if this really goes south, I have hope this will go viral so I can share it with the police so this guy won’t harass anyone else.
“I don’t need my son seeing shit like this on the train when we’re just trying to go home.”
His problem is not a real problem. I’m losing the courage to tell him this. Even though my shoulders are high, my knees are shaking. This guy is going to lay me out any moment. Arthur stands up and I push him behind me.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Arthur says to the man. “We’re not going to do anything else.”
“Screw this guy,” I say. I really wish Dylan were here to back us up.
The man’s son starts crying, like I’m the real aggressor here, like I provoked his asshole father because I was resting with another boy in public. I really feel for this kid and the tough road he may have ahead of him if he likes anyone who isn’t a hetero girl.
The man picks up his son. “You’re lucky I don’t want to pop you in front of my kid.”
Arthur tries dragging me away, and I only step back because he’s begging me and my name is a choked breath and he’s crying and he’s probably more scared than that five-year-old kid. Some guy with a gym bag steps in front of the man and tells him to keep it moving, that it’s done and over.
Except it’s not over, because Arthur and I have to carry this around.
We get off at the next stop and Arthur loses it. I hold his shoulders, like Dylan wants me to do when he’s panicking, but Arthur shakes me off and looks around the platform. “I thought New York was cool with . . .” He takes a deep breath and wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Gay bars and Pride parades and same-sex couples holding hands. What the hell. I thought New York had it together.”
“For the most part, I think. But every city has its assholes.” I want to hug him, but he doesn’t want to be touched right now. Like any affection is going to become a target sign on our backs. Like we’ll get punished because our hearts are different. “Are you okay?”
“No. I’ve never been threatened before. And I was so scared for you. Why didn’t you just stay quiet?”
I should’ve. I shouldn’t have endangered Arthur just because I wanted to speak up for us and everyone like us. “I’m sorry. I was scared too.”
We stand there for a few minutes and when the next train comes, Arthur doesn’t want to get on. Same for the next train. He’s collected himself as best as can be expected by the third train, and he’s only willing to get on because it’s packed so there will be more people to protect us if something happens again.
I don’t like that the same world that brought us together is also scaring him.
“I’m not leaving your side until you’re home,” I say.
Arthur looks around the train, and his tired, hurt blue eyes look up at me.
And his hand links into mine and he doesn’t break the hold the entire ride.
Chapter Twenty-One
Arthur
“Did they respond to your text?” Ben asks as I press the button for the third floor. “I don’t want to walk in on your parents having sex.”
“Eww. They don’t do that.”
“They did at least once.”
“Never. No.” I gag.
“You’re funny.” He takes my hand and smiles. “This place is nice.”
“On behalf of Uncle Milton, thank you.” I pause for a moment in the alcove. When you step off the elevator, there’s not really a hallway—just a little nook with three doors, leading to apartments A, B, and C.
“A for Arthur,” Ben says, like this is the most satisfying coincidence of his life.
“We planned that.”
“I figured,” he says smoothly—but when I glance back at him, he’s chewing his lip.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
I squeeze his hand. “That’s insanely cute.”
And—wow. I’m actually about to do this. I’m bringing this boy home to meet my parents. I’m pretty sure that’s not a typical second-date activity. But maybe Ben and I aren’t typical.
My parents.
I don’t know why I suggested it. Tonight just rattled me, I guess. I can’t stop thinking about the guy on the subway and his crying kid and the look on Ben’s face and the way it made me feel like the whole world was watching me. All I wanted, in that moment, was to be alone. I’ve never wanted to be alone so badly in my entire life.
But Ben stayed. He just stayed. And now I don’t want him to leave. I’m not ready to say goodnight.
I glance back at Ben as I fumble with the keys.
I’m not going to panic. I’m not. This is going to be fine. Totally great. Quick visit. Super casual. So what if my parents know a little too much about Ben. So what if they can barely keep it together around regular friends, much less boyfriends. Not that Ben’s my boyfriend. I can just picture what would happen if I introduced him like that.
Me: Meet my boyfriend, Ben!
Parents: *showering us with condoms* HELLO, BOYFRIEND BEN!!!
Ben: *launches self into the sun*
But—okay. If he’s not my boyfriend, what do I call him? My friend? My gentleman caller? The guy with whom I think about having sex 99 percent of my waking hours? And yes, I mean that both ways. I spend 99 percent of my waking hours thinking about how I’d like to spend 99 percent of my waking hours having sex with Ben.
My parents don’t need to know that.
Okay, I’m just going to casually open this door and breathe and—
“You must be Ben. So nice to finally meet you!” My mom beams up at him from the couch. Where she’s sitting. Right next to Dad.
I gape at them.
She pauses the TV and stands, coming straight over to shake Ben’s hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.” Dad nods pleasantly from the couch, and that’s when I notice they’re both wearing pajamas and glasses. I’m sorry, but what kind of alternate universe did I just step into? What mythical creature bit my parents and turned them into a lovey-dovey Saturday-night-on-the-sofa kind of couple?
