What If It's Us
Page 57
“Okay.” I nod, beaming. “This is a really great birthday.”
“For you or Obama?”
“Both!”
“Okay, one more thing,” Ben says. “I just want you to know I’m going to be open with you about stuff from now on. I’m not going to sugarcoat.”
“I like that. Totally open. Me too.”
“I don’t think you could be closed off if you tried.”
“You don’t know me.” I swat him, but he just laughs and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “I’m not going to pretend this Hudson stuff isn’t confusing, because it is. But I just want you to know that the way I feel about you? Isn’t confusing.”
“And how do you feel?”
“I mean—”
“Tell me in Spanish again, okay?”
He laughs. “Okay.”
“But—”
But then he kisses me right here on Columbus Avenue, and I forget what I’m saying. I forget how to speak.
The next hour is a blur, in the best possible way. Ben insists on a quick detour to Levain Bakery, where he skips all the bullshit and orders the biggest, warmest double-chocolate-chip cookie ever made. “Your favorite.”
“How did you know that?”
“I just know.” He insists on treating me—and he looks so pleased with himself that I don’t even protest. He holds my hand the whole way home, and when the elevator door closes, we’re kissing. When it opens again, we’re kissing. I kiss him while I root in my pocket for my keys, and I kiss him in the doorway, and I kiss him in our foyer. We shove the bags on the dining room table, and we kiss beneath Uncle Milton’s horses. You’d think I’d be tired of kissing right now. You’d think I’d get distracted, but I’ve never been more focused in my whole entire life.
I just love this. Every part of it. The hitch in his breath and his slightly swollen lips and knowing I’m the one who made both of those things happen. I love the way the spaces between our bodies vanish, like we can’t be close enough. I love the feeling of my hands in his hair. I love the softness of the nape of his neck. And most of all, I love it when our lips are touching and our mouths slide open and my heart’s a mile a minute, and breath becomes something we share. I’ve spent my whole life thinking talking was the best thing I could do with my mouth, but maybe talking’s overrated. Mouth is still the best organ, though. Hands down.
“What do you think is happening”—I kiss him gently—“at the Obama party right now?”
He kisses me back. “Probably this.”
It’s strange that you can laugh against another person’s lips. “Barack and Michelle?”
“Barack and Trudeau.” He kisses me again.
“With Joe watching wistfully.”
“So wistfully.”
My phone starts buzzing in my back pocket, which is currently right underneath Ben’s palm.
“Someone’s calling you,” he says.
“Let’s ignore it.”
“No. No way. Last time I ignored a phone call, Dylan was—”
“Sheesh. Okay.” I pull it out and peer at the screen. “It’s my dad.”
Ben kisses me quickly. “Answer it.”
“Hi, Dad.” I sound breathless and guilty. I sound exactly like a boy who’s been making out with his boyfriend in an empty apartment.
“How’s the birthday going?” he says.
“Great.”
Ben keeps his eyes fixed on mine.
“I miss you, bud. I’m eating cake tonight in your honor.”
“Cool.”
“I got them to put your name on it, too, and now I’m like, why don’t I always do this? You don’t have to wait for a birthday. I’m going to start going once a week and giving the bakery guys some random name, and voilà.”
“Great idea, Dad.”
“So what have you been up to?”
“Not much.” I shake my head slowly. “Actually, Dad, this is kind of a bad—”
“Wait, I’ll let you go! But I just wanted to let you know your present from Mom and me just got delivered. It’s waiting for you now in the lobby.”
Ben just watches me, smiling.
“Okay. I’ll go get it in just a—”
“You should go get it now, bud. It’s perishable. Let me know what you think, okay?”
We say goodbye and hang up, and Ben wraps his arms around me.
My phone buzzes. Let me know when you get it!! Winky emoji.
“Awesome. Now he’s texting me.” I roll my eyes. “So apparently I’m supposed to pick up a package from the lobby right this second.”
“Okay.”
“Come with me.”
“You got it.”
“There’s a ninety percent chance that this is from Harry & David,” I tell Ben on the elevator.
“Who are they?”
“You know, the fancy gourmet guys who make Moose Munch and those pears? Fruit of the month?” Ben looks at me blankly. “It’s—anyway, let’s just grab the box, take a picture, text it to my parents, and then I’m turning my phone off all night.”
“That’s an extremely good plan.”
The first thing I hear when the elevator doors open is a very familiar voice. “Arthur!”
My mouth falls open. “Jess?”
“And Ethan,” says Ethan.
“I don’t understand.” I glance back at Ben, but he’s staring at his feet. I turn back to Jessie and Ethan, who look larger than life next to the rows of tiny mailboxes. Ethan’s in gym shorts and a Milton High T-shirt, and Jessie’s in a sundress, and they’re both carrying duffel bags. “What are you doing here?”
Jessie smiles shyly. “Your mom flew us up with her SkyMiles. Just for the night.”
“Wait.” I clap my hands over my mouth. “Are you my surprise?”
“Hi, I’m Ben,” Ben says suddenly.
Jessie hesitates. “Nice to meet you.”
“My boyfriend,” I say quickly. “We’re dating again now.”
“Oh—”
“And they’re dating, too,” I say to Ben. “Ethan and Jess. They’re a couple. Ha. Out of nowhere. But I’m happy for them.”
“Arthur, you don’t have to—”
“I am! I’m happy for you. Extremely. And totally. Heh. You know what should be a word? Extrotally.”
Ben’s lips twist up at the corners.
“Anyway, wow. You’re here. For my birthday.”
“Extrotally,” says Ethan.
“And you don’t hate me.”
“Why would we hate you?” asks Jessie.
“Because I hung up on you? And I was a jerk? But you’re here.” I look from Jessie to Ethan, grinning. “You’re in New York.”
Jessie grins back. “Your parents didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday. Although . . .” She glances at Ben, who promptly turns bright red.
And in that moment, it hits me. Ben. At my apartment. With no parents. On my birthday. Just us and six unopened boxes of condoms and . . . Ethan and Jessie. I mean, talk about some fucking next-level parental interference.
But as cockblocks go, this is kind of a great one. I keep staring at everyone’s faces and smiling. Ethan, Jessie, and Ben, all in a row. My three favorite people in one tiny elevator. And no one hates me. Nothing’s broken. Maybe the universe has my back after all.
“For you or Obama?”
“Both!”
“Okay, one more thing,” Ben says. “I just want you to know I’m going to be open with you about stuff from now on. I’m not going to sugarcoat.”
“I like that. Totally open. Me too.”
“I don’t think you could be closed off if you tried.”
“You don’t know me.” I swat him, but he just laughs and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “I’m not going to pretend this Hudson stuff isn’t confusing, because it is. But I just want you to know that the way I feel about you? Isn’t confusing.”
“And how do you feel?”
“I mean—”
“Tell me in Spanish again, okay?”
He laughs. “Okay.”
“But—”
But then he kisses me right here on Columbus Avenue, and I forget what I’m saying. I forget how to speak.
The next hour is a blur, in the best possible way. Ben insists on a quick detour to Levain Bakery, where he skips all the bullshit and orders the biggest, warmest double-chocolate-chip cookie ever made. “Your favorite.”
“How did you know that?”
“I just know.” He insists on treating me—and he looks so pleased with himself that I don’t even protest. He holds my hand the whole way home, and when the elevator door closes, we’re kissing. When it opens again, we’re kissing. I kiss him while I root in my pocket for my keys, and I kiss him in the doorway, and I kiss him in our foyer. We shove the bags on the dining room table, and we kiss beneath Uncle Milton’s horses. You’d think I’d be tired of kissing right now. You’d think I’d get distracted, but I’ve never been more focused in my whole entire life.
I just love this. Every part of it. The hitch in his breath and his slightly swollen lips and knowing I’m the one who made both of those things happen. I love the way the spaces between our bodies vanish, like we can’t be close enough. I love the feeling of my hands in his hair. I love the softness of the nape of his neck. And most of all, I love it when our lips are touching and our mouths slide open and my heart’s a mile a minute, and breath becomes something we share. I’ve spent my whole life thinking talking was the best thing I could do with my mouth, but maybe talking’s overrated. Mouth is still the best organ, though. Hands down.
“What do you think is happening”—I kiss him gently—“at the Obama party right now?”
He kisses me back. “Probably this.”
It’s strange that you can laugh against another person’s lips. “Barack and Michelle?”
“Barack and Trudeau.” He kisses me again.
“With Joe watching wistfully.”
“So wistfully.”
My phone starts buzzing in my back pocket, which is currently right underneath Ben’s palm.
“Someone’s calling you,” he says.
“Let’s ignore it.”
“No. No way. Last time I ignored a phone call, Dylan was—”
“Sheesh. Okay.” I pull it out and peer at the screen. “It’s my dad.”
Ben kisses me quickly. “Answer it.”
“Hi, Dad.” I sound breathless and guilty. I sound exactly like a boy who’s been making out with his boyfriend in an empty apartment.
“How’s the birthday going?” he says.
“Great.”
Ben keeps his eyes fixed on mine.
“I miss you, bud. I’m eating cake tonight in your honor.”
“Cool.”
“I got them to put your name on it, too, and now I’m like, why don’t I always do this? You don’t have to wait for a birthday. I’m going to start going once a week and giving the bakery guys some random name, and voilà.”
“Great idea, Dad.”
“So what have you been up to?”
“Not much.” I shake my head slowly. “Actually, Dad, this is kind of a bad—”
“Wait, I’ll let you go! But I just wanted to let you know your present from Mom and me just got delivered. It’s waiting for you now in the lobby.”
Ben just watches me, smiling.
“Okay. I’ll go get it in just a—”
“You should go get it now, bud. It’s perishable. Let me know what you think, okay?”
We say goodbye and hang up, and Ben wraps his arms around me.
My phone buzzes. Let me know when you get it!! Winky emoji.
“Awesome. Now he’s texting me.” I roll my eyes. “So apparently I’m supposed to pick up a package from the lobby right this second.”
“Okay.”
“Come with me.”
“You got it.”
“There’s a ninety percent chance that this is from Harry & David,” I tell Ben on the elevator.
“Who are they?”
“You know, the fancy gourmet guys who make Moose Munch and those pears? Fruit of the month?” Ben looks at me blankly. “It’s—anyway, let’s just grab the box, take a picture, text it to my parents, and then I’m turning my phone off all night.”
“That’s an extremely good plan.”
The first thing I hear when the elevator doors open is a very familiar voice. “Arthur!”
My mouth falls open. “Jess?”
“And Ethan,” says Ethan.
“I don’t understand.” I glance back at Ben, but he’s staring at his feet. I turn back to Jessie and Ethan, who look larger than life next to the rows of tiny mailboxes. Ethan’s in gym shorts and a Milton High T-shirt, and Jessie’s in a sundress, and they’re both carrying duffel bags. “What are you doing here?”
Jessie smiles shyly. “Your mom flew us up with her SkyMiles. Just for the night.”
“Wait.” I clap my hands over my mouth. “Are you my surprise?”
“Hi, I’m Ben,” Ben says suddenly.
Jessie hesitates. “Nice to meet you.”
“My boyfriend,” I say quickly. “We’re dating again now.”
“Oh—”
“And they’re dating, too,” I say to Ben. “Ethan and Jess. They’re a couple. Ha. Out of nowhere. But I’m happy for them.”
“Arthur, you don’t have to—”
“I am! I’m happy for you. Extremely. And totally. Heh. You know what should be a word? Extrotally.”
Ben’s lips twist up at the corners.
“Anyway, wow. You’re here. For my birthday.”
“Extrotally,” says Ethan.
“And you don’t hate me.”
“Why would we hate you?” asks Jessie.
“Because I hung up on you? And I was a jerk? But you’re here.” I look from Jessie to Ethan, grinning. “You’re in New York.”
Jessie grins back. “Your parents didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday. Although . . .” She glances at Ben, who promptly turns bright red.
And in that moment, it hits me. Ben. At my apartment. With no parents. On my birthday. Just us and six unopened boxes of condoms and . . . Ethan and Jessie. I mean, talk about some fucking next-level parental interference.
But as cockblocks go, this is kind of a great one. I keep staring at everyone’s faces and smiling. Ethan, Jessie, and Ben, all in a row. My three favorite people in one tiny elevator. And no one hates me. Nothing’s broken. Maybe the universe has my back after all.
