What If It's Us
Page 5
“My common sense is telling me to make new friends.”
“I just didn’t want to be disrespectful.”
“You just disrespected me.”
“I’m talking about her.”
“Of course you are. Wait. Is that why you gave me this shirt last night?”
“Yes. I panicked.”
“You’re so weird. Go on.”
“I braved Kool Koffee today dressed appropriately . . .” Dylan gestures at his solid blue T-shirt. Nice and neutral. “. . . and she was humming an Elliott Smith song while making someone’s espresso, and I was done. Overdone. Big Ben, in a single moment, I gained a future wife and an unlimited supply of coffee.”
It’s really hard to be happy for someone finding romance when I’ve clearly just taken a loss in the same department, but it’s Dylan. “I can’t wait to meet my future sister-in-law.”
“You remember that BuzzFeed post with the Harry Potter wedding? Samantha and I will do something coffee-themed. Everyone will wear barista aprons. Toasting with mugs. My face drawn in everyone’s espresso.”
“You are too much.”
“One downside though.”
“She has a downside already?”
“She’s a huge supporter of Kool Koffee because they donate some portions to charities, and she thinks serious coffee drinkers should be better about where they’re buying coffee. I mean, I’m not ready to be monogamous with Kool Koffee.”
“Did she actually ask you to do that?”
“No, but . . . she asked without asking. And when the One comes along, there are things we must sacrifice.”
“There’s no way you’re quitting Dream & Bean coffee.”
“Oh hell no. I’m quitting drinking it in front of Samantha. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt.”
“Only you could make drinking coffee sound nefarious.”
“Anyway. I added other coffee shop shirts into your drawer so I don’t get tempted.”
I check out the shirts because maybe there’s actually a winner in here. And yeah, I have a drawer in his bedroom and he has one in mine. We’ve slept over at each other’s places enough that it makes sense. When I was first getting cool with the coming-out thing in school, I always felt super self-conscious in gym, like everyone thought I would try and check them out. It’s really dope having a bro like Dylan who is super cool changing in front of me and me changing in front of him. I hope I don’t lose his awesomeness again like I have every time he meets the One.
“Wait. Why didn’t you tell me about seeing Samantha last night when you came over?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Dylan says. Like that’s a satisfying answer. Like I’m about to just go “Okay, cool,” and go back to kicking his ass in Super Smash.
“You never tell me when you first get a crush,” I say.
“Name one time.”
“Gabriella and Heather and Natalia and—”
“I said one time.”
“—and Harriett. It’s just weird. We tell each other everything.”
Dylan nods. “Not trying to jinx myself, I guess. You know how my dad always goes on about how he knew he would marry my mom when they met in freshman year? I’m getting those same vibes from Samantha.”
I act like I haven’t heard Dylan say this before, most recently with Harriett, who he broke up with in March, but I let it go. Maybe it will work this time. We keep playing as Dylan goes on and on about which hot beverage he and Samantha should name their firstborn after, and I refuse to be Uncle Ben to any child named Cider.
I’m a little jealous Dylan is in this phase of his new romance, where it feels like anything is possible. Like how Samantha could actually be the love of his life. Like when I thought Hudson was going to be mine. How I couldn’t wait to wake up to his face—his beautiful lazy eye, the little bump on his nose, his suggestive dark eyebrows that don’t match his short auburn hair. The way he changed my worldviews, like whenever he had to push back at idiots in school who got at him because of his effeminate mannerisms; he really helped me forget my own idiocy on what I thought a man was supposed to look like. And those nerves before we had sex for the first time in March, not knowing if it was going to be good or not. Spoiler: it was awesome.
Maybe I can kick so much ass this week at school that the teachers will realize I don’t actually need to be stuck taking classes for the next month and I’ll be Hudson-free.
Though I got to be real, I would’ve probably ended up in summer school even if Hudson was never in the picture. I’m not super tight with school.
“You’ll always be my number one, Big Ben,” Dylan says. “Until Baby Cider is born.”
“Bros before babies,” I demand.
“Tie?”
I shrug. “Tie.”
“You won’t be single long,” Dylan says, like he’s a Magic 8 Ball in white flesh. “You’re tall, your hair is Hollywood ready, your style is effortless. If I didn’t have Mrs. Samantha Last-Name-to-Be-Discovered-Before-I-Can-Properly-Hyphenate-It-with-Boggs, I’m positive you would have me changing gears within a year.”
“That’s sweet. You know getting someone to go gay for me would be the highlight of my life.” I don’t go chasing after straight guys, but if one wants to experiment to see what’s what? Welcome to House Alejo. Leave your shoes at the door, or bring them into bed with you if that’s your thing.
I win the first round because I’m me and we get another round going.
“Let’s talk about why you really didn’t mail the breakup box,” Dylan says, like he’s going to bill me for this conversation.
“Only if you drop the therapist voice,” I say.
“Maybe we can begin with why my tone bothers you. Do I remind you of an authority figure?”
I KO his character and flip him off.
“I just . . . I really thought I’d have the chance to hand over the box personally for closure. But then he didn’t show up to school, and all of a sudden I’m at the post office talking to some guy about Hudson when a flash mob rolled through and—”
“Wait. Run that back.”
“Yeah, flash mob. They were performing that Bruno Mars song and—”
“No. The guy. What. Who.” Dylan turns to me, once again abandoning the complex sorcery of the pause button. “You’re an asshole. You have me feeling bad for you and you’re already slutting it up with someone else.”
“What, no. This isn’t real. There’s nothing to pursue or slut up.”
“Why not? Who is he? Name. Address. Social security number. Twitter and Instagram handles.”
“Arthur. I don’t know his last name. I definitely don’t know his address. Ditto on the handles, but while we’re on the subject, why can’t people just have one handle for everything they do?”
“Humans are complex.” Dylan nods sagely. “What do you know about him?”
“He’s new to the city. Visiting from Georgia. He was wearing the most ridiculous tie in all the land.”
“Gay?”
“Yup.” It’s always cool to find out immediately when a cute guy is gay or not. Trying to solve that mystery yourself isn’t fun and rarely pays off.
“I’m getting hot vibes.” Dylan fans himself.
“I just didn’t want to be disrespectful.”
“You just disrespected me.”
“I’m talking about her.”
“Of course you are. Wait. Is that why you gave me this shirt last night?”
“Yes. I panicked.”
“You’re so weird. Go on.”
“I braved Kool Koffee today dressed appropriately . . .” Dylan gestures at his solid blue T-shirt. Nice and neutral. “. . . and she was humming an Elliott Smith song while making someone’s espresso, and I was done. Overdone. Big Ben, in a single moment, I gained a future wife and an unlimited supply of coffee.”
It’s really hard to be happy for someone finding romance when I’ve clearly just taken a loss in the same department, but it’s Dylan. “I can’t wait to meet my future sister-in-law.”
“You remember that BuzzFeed post with the Harry Potter wedding? Samantha and I will do something coffee-themed. Everyone will wear barista aprons. Toasting with mugs. My face drawn in everyone’s espresso.”
“You are too much.”
“One downside though.”
“She has a downside already?”
“She’s a huge supporter of Kool Koffee because they donate some portions to charities, and she thinks serious coffee drinkers should be better about where they’re buying coffee. I mean, I’m not ready to be monogamous with Kool Koffee.”
“Did she actually ask you to do that?”
“No, but . . . she asked without asking. And when the One comes along, there are things we must sacrifice.”
“There’s no way you’re quitting Dream & Bean coffee.”
“Oh hell no. I’m quitting drinking it in front of Samantha. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt.”
“Only you could make drinking coffee sound nefarious.”
“Anyway. I added other coffee shop shirts into your drawer so I don’t get tempted.”
I check out the shirts because maybe there’s actually a winner in here. And yeah, I have a drawer in his bedroom and he has one in mine. We’ve slept over at each other’s places enough that it makes sense. When I was first getting cool with the coming-out thing in school, I always felt super self-conscious in gym, like everyone thought I would try and check them out. It’s really dope having a bro like Dylan who is super cool changing in front of me and me changing in front of him. I hope I don’t lose his awesomeness again like I have every time he meets the One.
“Wait. Why didn’t you tell me about seeing Samantha last night when you came over?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Dylan says. Like that’s a satisfying answer. Like I’m about to just go “Okay, cool,” and go back to kicking his ass in Super Smash.
“You never tell me when you first get a crush,” I say.
“Name one time.”
“Gabriella and Heather and Natalia and—”
“I said one time.”
“—and Harriett. It’s just weird. We tell each other everything.”
Dylan nods. “Not trying to jinx myself, I guess. You know how my dad always goes on about how he knew he would marry my mom when they met in freshman year? I’m getting those same vibes from Samantha.”
I act like I haven’t heard Dylan say this before, most recently with Harriett, who he broke up with in March, but I let it go. Maybe it will work this time. We keep playing as Dylan goes on and on about which hot beverage he and Samantha should name their firstborn after, and I refuse to be Uncle Ben to any child named Cider.
I’m a little jealous Dylan is in this phase of his new romance, where it feels like anything is possible. Like how Samantha could actually be the love of his life. Like when I thought Hudson was going to be mine. How I couldn’t wait to wake up to his face—his beautiful lazy eye, the little bump on his nose, his suggestive dark eyebrows that don’t match his short auburn hair. The way he changed my worldviews, like whenever he had to push back at idiots in school who got at him because of his effeminate mannerisms; he really helped me forget my own idiocy on what I thought a man was supposed to look like. And those nerves before we had sex for the first time in March, not knowing if it was going to be good or not. Spoiler: it was awesome.
Maybe I can kick so much ass this week at school that the teachers will realize I don’t actually need to be stuck taking classes for the next month and I’ll be Hudson-free.
Though I got to be real, I would’ve probably ended up in summer school even if Hudson was never in the picture. I’m not super tight with school.
“You’ll always be my number one, Big Ben,” Dylan says. “Until Baby Cider is born.”
“Bros before babies,” I demand.
“Tie?”
I shrug. “Tie.”
“You won’t be single long,” Dylan says, like he’s a Magic 8 Ball in white flesh. “You’re tall, your hair is Hollywood ready, your style is effortless. If I didn’t have Mrs. Samantha Last-Name-to-Be-Discovered-Before-I-Can-Properly-Hyphenate-It-with-Boggs, I’m positive you would have me changing gears within a year.”
“That’s sweet. You know getting someone to go gay for me would be the highlight of my life.” I don’t go chasing after straight guys, but if one wants to experiment to see what’s what? Welcome to House Alejo. Leave your shoes at the door, or bring them into bed with you if that’s your thing.
I win the first round because I’m me and we get another round going.
“Let’s talk about why you really didn’t mail the breakup box,” Dylan says, like he’s going to bill me for this conversation.
“Only if you drop the therapist voice,” I say.
“Maybe we can begin with why my tone bothers you. Do I remind you of an authority figure?”
I KO his character and flip him off.
“I just . . . I really thought I’d have the chance to hand over the box personally for closure. But then he didn’t show up to school, and all of a sudden I’m at the post office talking to some guy about Hudson when a flash mob rolled through and—”
“Wait. Run that back.”
“Yeah, flash mob. They were performing that Bruno Mars song and—”
“No. The guy. What. Who.” Dylan turns to me, once again abandoning the complex sorcery of the pause button. “You’re an asshole. You have me feeling bad for you and you’re already slutting it up with someone else.”
“What, no. This isn’t real. There’s nothing to pursue or slut up.”
“Why not? Who is he? Name. Address. Social security number. Twitter and Instagram handles.”
“Arthur. I don’t know his last name. I definitely don’t know his address. Ditto on the handles, but while we’re on the subject, why can’t people just have one handle for everything they do?”
“Humans are complex.” Dylan nods sagely. “What do you know about him?”
“He’s new to the city. Visiting from Georgia. He was wearing the most ridiculous tie in all the land.”
“Gay?”
“Yup.” It’s always cool to find out immediately when a cute guy is gay or not. Trying to solve that mystery yourself isn’t fun and rarely pays off.
“I’m getting hot vibes.” Dylan fans himself.
