Short Stories - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

"It's time for an intervention."
I looked up from my Calculus notes boredly to find three pairs of eyes on me. Lizzie was the one who'd spoken. "For what purpose?"
Joey put his hand over mine, only to take it off with an awkward cough when I gave him a What the hell are you doing? look. "It's Thursday," he said.
"I'm aware," I deadpanned.
"You and Aiden had your little falling out on Saturday," Peter said. "And you've been a depressing bundle off hormonal moodiness ever since."
I rolled my eyes. True, I hadn't sat at Aiden's lunch table all week, or gone over to his house yesterday, or so much as said more than two words to him since Saturday. But I wasn't that moody. "I'm fine," I said.
"Sweetheart," Becca said. "No you're not. And though you refuse to talk about what went down at Ashley's party, we've heard the details trickle in, and we think there might be a bit of a miscommunication problem. You see, we feel as though you two just aren't seeing each other's—"
"Alright, I'm bored," Joey interrupted. "What she's trying to say is that we think Aiden reacted the way he did because he's in love with you."
"Oh my god," I groaned. "This again, Joey? Seriously, move on. And lower your voice, would you?"
Even though we were pretty much the only students that were actually lame enough to come to the library after school; most students didn't even know there was a library at the school.
"No, listen," Joey said. "Have you ever read the article about the guy who never cared that his roommate was gay until he started bringing guys home, and he was really pissy and thought it was homophobia until he realized he was actually jealous?"
I frowned. "Okay, but if Aiden is supposedly jealous, then why didn't he care about Ashley?"
"Does it bother you to see him with girls?" Joey asked. I shrugged.
"Not really," I admitted.
"Why not?"
I thought about it for a moment. "I guess because I know he's straight and that I don't have a chance."
Joey nodded like he'd expected that. "Well how would you feel if you saw him with another boy?"
I was silent. I didn't really know how to respond to that, but I felt an uncomfortable twinge in my stomach at the thought. Joey took the chance to continue.
"Would you be more bothered knowing that he did like boys, just not you?"
•••
On Saturday, I got a text from Aiden. It certainly wasn't the first one I'd gotten from him in the last week, but it was the first I actually bothered to look at.
I know you're pissed at me, and I don't blame you, but please please please come over today - Casanova
I was still pretty mad at him. But I wasn't good at holding a grudge for very long, and despite how shitty he'd made me feel, I was starting to miss his stupid face.
It was awkward when I first arrived. Between the moment he let me into the house and the moment we entered his room, neither of us said a word to each other. The only people I talked to, or who talked to me, were his siblings, who greeted me with hugs and, in Abigail's case, the middle finger, as I passed.
When I sat down on his bed, though, Aiden let it out.
"Listen, I'm really sorry," he said. "Like, really sorry. I just really don't like Jacob, but that shouldn't have anything to do with your sexuality, or his, or anyone's. And I feel like shit for practically shoving you out of the closet like that. I can't believe I was such an idiot. Have you . . . have you gotten any shit for it?"
Thankfully, our school was pretty progressive. Most of the students didn't know who I was, and the ones that did hardly cared about my sexuality. I'd gotten a few looks and heard some whispers, and one dumb jock made it his mission to make some ridiculous gay joke every time he passed me between fifth and sixth period. But I knew it could have been way, way worse. So my answer was, "No."
Aiden nodded. "You have every right to be super mad at me, because I was a colossal dick. But I really am sorry, and if I could take Saturday night back I would, and I miss you not being mad at me, so . . . can I convince you to forgive me?"
And he looked so hopeful, it would be hard to deny him. So I smiled despite myself and said, "I'll think about it," which we both knew meant yes.
He grinned triumphantly. "Awesome. Great. Wanna play Fortnite?"
"Have I ever said no to that?"
Things went back to normal after that. It was as if we hadn't missed a beat. We played Fortnite for longer than I'm willing to admit, made eight sandwiches for lunch, and let Ace and Allison drag us through a few make-believe games. Then, after Aiden's parents came home for the night, we went back to the living room, played some more Fortnite, then settled down in his bedroom with his SAT prep book.
"So," he said casually as he worked through an algebra problem. The fact that he'd grown confident enough to talk and work at the same time made me feel kind of proud of myself. "Are you and Princess a thing?"
I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. Aiden's gaze was fixed on his paper, but I caught him glance at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Depends on what you mean by a thing," I said. Jacob and I had been talking all week—he'd even sat with me at lunch a couple times. And we'd gone out yesterday, which had honestly been thirty percent talking and seventy percent making out. It was fun, and he was really cool and hot, but I wouldn't say we were a thing. "It's not like I'm in love with the guy. But we went on a date yesterday, and it was a lot of fun, so maybe that'll go somewhere."
"Oh," was all Aiden said.
"You don't have to like it."
"Good, because I don't."
With a sigh, I said, "Let's just get back to the work, okay?"
Aiden agreed, but his voice was gruff. I wished he'd never brought Jacob up, because from that point on, there was blatant tension hanging over us.
It didn't help that the next set of math problems we came across were difficult for him, and he quickly grew frustrated.
After thirty minutes of getting absolutely nowhere, he threw his pencil down and said, "I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," I said. "Just try."
He laughed incredulously. "You think I'm not trying? I'm not as smart at you are, Noah."
I could hear the agitation in his voice, and his frustration became my own. What was he snapping at me for?
Without thinking I said, "You're overreacting, Aiden. It's not even that hard."
Which I regretted saying as soon as I realized how condescending it sounded. After that, things escalated pretty quickly.
"Well I'm sorry I'm such an idiot," He snapped, angrily shutting the textbook and standing up.
"What is up with you?" I asked, feeling more than a little tired of how pissy he'd been acting for the last hour. Ever since he asked about Jacob.
"What is up with me," he said, "Is that I'm not like you, so don't expect me to be. I'm not a privileged genius who has life handed to him on a silver fucking platter. You're not like me, and you're never going to understand me because you'll never be like me, or like Ashley, or Hunter, or any of us normal human beings from planet Earth, not whatever extra-terrestrial place you and your people come from."
"Alright," I said, standing up and shrugging on my jacket, because if he wanted to apologize for being a dick just to turn around and start being a dick again, I wasn't going to stay for it. Clearly something was going on with him, and I wasn't in the mood to sit there while he took it out on me. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you right now. When you figure your shit out, talk to me."
•••
On Monday, I sat at Aiden's table at lunch. Not because I wanted to talk to him—honestly, that was the last thing I wanted to do. But after his little you're not like me tantrum, I felt determined to prove him wrong.
So I took on a role like his. I started talking to everyone at the overcrowded table, not just Ashley and Hunter and Britney. As a matter of fact, he was the only person there I didn't talk to. I made myself into the loud, outgoing, semi-douchy guy that he was so often presumed to be.
Was I comfortable? Absolutely not. I wasn't used to trying so hard to be someone other than myself. But I stayed resolute in pursuing my goal. I could tell by the expression on Aiden's face as he stared down at his food that he knew what I was doing. Good.
There was a new addition to the table, too. His name was Jacob Prince.
I couldn't exactly pinpoint a word for what we were. Fling, maybe. Nothing serious, and probably not going to become anything serious. He could be kind of a dick sometimes, and I knew he was talking to a bunch of guys, but I couldn't care less.
He sat next to me, usually with an arm around my shoulders or a hand on my knee. I knew it pissed Aiden off, because he barely talked at all, but I didn't care.
Or at least, I told myself I didn't care. That I was mad at him and shouldn't feel bad or miss him or ask him how he was. But I was in love with the guy, for God's sake. Sure I was mad, but I did feel bad, and I did miss him, and I really, really wanted to ask him how he was. Aiden was usually a relaxed guy—not the type to have outbursts like he'd been having lately.
If it wasn't for the fact that I knew he was as mad at me as I supposedly was at him, I would've cracked by now. But he wouldn't even look at me.
I was worried, because I really had no clue what was up with him, but I was stuck between wanting to reach out and wanting to stay as far away as possible.
Keeping my distance seemed like the easier option. But it was getting harder.
"What are you guys doing Friday night?" Jacob asked. "Don't answer that, because I know exactly what you're doing—you're all coming to my house after the game."
"Party?" Britney guessed.
"What else?" He said; then he turned to me. "You'll be there, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it," I grinned, and he smiled back, leaning over to kiss my cheek.
"Weird, I never took you as the type for big parties," Ashley said, looking at me in surprise. "You know Jacob's house can get pretty crazy, right?"
"Yeah, well, I figured that if I'm spending so much time with you guys, I might as well try to be a little more like you."
Aiden paused in his eating and looked up at me, and when our eyes met, I shrugged.
Turns out, Ashley was right; I wasn't the big-party type.
The music hurt my ears, every room was cramped with bodies, and the air smelled like booze and body odor. I wasn't much of a dancer, but Jacob had me pulled against him for most of the night. It was fun I guess, but mostly just tiring, and every time he kissed me, I could taste alcohol on his lips.
Getting wasted wasn't on the list of things I wanted to do at seventeen, so I stayed away from the drinks. I just wasn't the type. But Jacob sure was, and by midnight, he was plastered.
By one, I was over it. I was exhausted after all of the dancing and sick of watching teenagers around me make out, dry-hump, break lamps, and vomit.
Not to mention, Aiden was here. I never would have expected him to come to anything Jacob was hosting, but there he was, dancing with some girl and holding a red solo cup in one hand. He looked like he was having genuine fun, unlike me, and the fact that I'd failed to prove him wrong made me bitter. I just wanted to go home.
"Hey, I'm gonna go get some fresh air, okay?"
I'd been planning to go and sit on the front porch for a minute, catch my breath, and move on. But when Jacob and I stepped outside, I heard my name and turned to see Hunter, who was hanging out with a group of other kids by his truck.
When we joined them, I noticed a weird smell in the air. Then I caught sight of the culprit: I blunt held between Hunter's fingers. As soon as Jacob pushed himself onto the car's hood, Hunter handed him the blunt and he, to my surprise, took a hit.
He must have seen the poorly-concealed shock on my face, because he laughed and said, "Lighten up, babe. There's no harm."
I could've formed a long list of harms off the top of my head, but I kept my mouth shut and tried not to make it obvious that I was holding my breath.
He offered me the blunt, but I shook my head. "Come on," he coaxed. "Don't knock it 'til you try it. This is all a part of the teen experience."
"Seriously, no," I said, and he made up his face, but didn't insist further.
So I sat there on that car, trying not to get second-hand high and hoping that Jacob wouldn't screw himself over by drinking and smoking in one night.
But then I got to thinking about Aiden, as per usual, and I couldn't get the picture of him dancing out of my head. Right now, he was somewhere in that house, having fun and feeling drunk and probably getting laid.
'You're not like me, and you're never going to understand me because you'll never be like me. . .'
He was right. I wasn't like him. I was at a party, for crying out loud—I should've been having fun and letting loose and not caring about the consequences. But instead I was being that kid, acting miserable, refusing to take part in anything interesting.
I guess that was why people liked guys like Aiden and forgot about guys like me. Aiden lifted groups up, and I brought them down by being a colossal buzzkill.
Maybe this was what I needed. This could be what it took to show Aiden that I could be like him. That I wasn't just some privileged loser who didn't understand what it meant to be a normal human being. Maybe, somehow, stepping fully into his shoes for a few minutes would help us figure shit out.
"I want to try it."
Jacob turned to me, surprised. "You serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
He grinned. "You're hot when you're serious." Then he took the blunt, which was much shorter now, from Hunter and held it out to me, before seeming to change his mind and retracting his arm. "Actually . . ." he said, "Let's try this. Open your mouth"
So I did. He pressed the blunt to his own lips and inhaled, then leaned in close to me, and I realized what he was about to do right as the sound of my name being yelled caused me to snap my head in the other direction.
There was Aiden, storming toward me and looking angrier than I'd ever seen him. "What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.
Before I could even answer, he grabbed me by the arm and practically yanked me off of the car. He didn't even look at me as he pulled me away. I met Jacob's gaze, and he just shrugged and rolled his eyes, smoke flowing out between his lips.
"Aiden, what—"
"We're leaving," he said firmly; we were at his car.
"Hold on, you can't just . . ." But the look he gave me had me shutting myself up. I wordlessly got into his car. I watched him tentatively as we drove away; his jaw and shoulders were tense, and he stared straight ahead. Not a word was spoken, and the radio was off—I didn't dare turn it on. By the time we parked at my house, the silence felt sickening.
The lights were off. We entered as quietly as we could and snuck up to my room, all-the-while drowning in uncomfortably thick tension.
When the door shut behind us, he turned on me. "What were you thinking?" He exclaimed, and I was grateful for the size of my house, because if the rooms weren't so far apart, my parents would easily hear if he got any louder—which I had a feeling he would.
All I did was shrug, but he shook his head. "No," he said. "No, that's not good enough. What the hell could've possessed you into thinking that getting high at a stupid party was a good idea?"
"I didn't actually smoke anything," I told him stubbornly.
"But you were about to!" He said, running his hands through his hair frustratedly. "Jacob's parties have been busted by the cops before, you know. What would've happened to all of your future plans if they showed up and saw you?"
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" I snapped, pissed that he could spend a week pretending I didn't exist and then suddenly show up and start acting like I owed him an explanation.
"Someone who cares about you and doesn't wanna see you spiral like all of my other friends!" he bit back. "I mean, look at them! Hunter's got chlamydia, Ashley is pregnant and doesn't even know who the dad is, and Britney's already on her way to becoming an alcoholic! There's a reason why they're my friends and you're my best friend, Noah. You're seventeen—you have time to try all of that stuff! Would it kill you to wait? Or at least do it in a safe environment?"
"You're the one who said all of that bullshit about me not being like you!" I retaliated. "How is it okay for you to go out and get drunk, but not okay for me to make my own damn decisions?"
"Drunk?" Aiden said incredulously. "The only thing I drank tonight was Sprite. I've got six younger siblings—I can't go out and not come back at night, or come back and let them see me drunk, or sneak in and be hungover the next morning. Make whatever decisions you want, but for the love of god, make them for you, and nobody else!"
"I'm just trying to fit in with your stupid friend group!" I argued. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
"That was never what I wanted," Aiden said, leaning against the wall as if he needed the support. "Ever since Brit started making you over, I've been trying to tell you that's not what I want. I think . . . I think it's just what you wanted. Tell me, were you lying when you said that it was your friend drama that made you start hanging out with me more? This whole time, have you just wanted to push yourself into the stupid high school stereotype that guys like Hunter fall under? Is popularity all you care about?"
I scoffed. He was so far from the truth, it would have been funny if it didn't make me feel nauseous. "You're joking, right?" I said. "Sure, I've been lying, but not about that. Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to hang out with your friends so I could see you more? That maybe the only person I wanted to impress was you?"
It wasn't meant to be a messed up love confession. And to most people, it probably wouldn't even sound like one. But to me, it came out that way, and I could see in Aiden's eyes that he'd heard it that way, too.
"Yeah, I did," he admitted. "And it's been driving me fucking crazy."
There was that awful feeling again, right in my chest. "Well I'm sorry I have normal human emotions and feelings and shit, okay?" I said, forcing myself to stand up straight when I just wanted to lay on my bed and cry. The thought of me liking him was driving him crazy. Who ever wanted to hear that? "I'm sorry that I can't control what my heart says, and that you feel so damn threatened by the fact that a boy might—"
Aiden rolled his eyes, used one arm to grab my waist and pull me into him, and pushed his lips onto mine before I could even register what was happening.
In an instant, my mind went blank. The first thing my body did was freeze. But then, it reacted before my brain could. I lost my sense of who I was or what I'd been doing just seconds before. I kissed him back—of course I did, because he was Aiden fucking Mendoza, and I never seemed able to maintain control of myself when it came to him. I matched his force, gripping his shirt with one hand and his neck with the other. All I knew were his lips, pressing hard against mine, driving me off the rails.
But then they were gone, and my eyes shot wide open as the reality of what just happened hit me.
Aiden stared right back at me, looking just as stunned as I felt. His breathing was heavy, and every time his chest rose, I could feel it just barely touch mine.
"Why," I said hoarsely, struggling to meet his gaze as everything before the kiss came back to me. "Why did you do that?"
Aiden dropped his arms from around me. I saw him swallow. "Why did you think I did it?"
There were a million answers to that floating round in my head. Only one of them was good, and it seemed so far-fetched, I didn't bother believing it.
"I don't know, because you find some weird satisfaction in messing with my head?" I said bitterly. Suddenly, I wished I hadn't let him kiss me like that, that I hadn't responded so easily. I should've pushed him away, stood my ground, and stopped him from once again exercising his reign over my emotions.
Because now, he knew he could control me. And maybe that would've been okay, if I thought he was serious.
More than anything, I wished I hadn't loved it so much.
"First, you're totally awful to me all week for no damn reason," I said lowly.  "Then you turn around and pull something like that. It's a sick game you're playing, Aiden."
He stepped back, something like hurt taking over his gaze. "Do you even know me?" He asked.
That was the problem. I knew him too well. "Yeah, I do. I've watched for years as you've hurt girl after girl—I just never thought you took it as some kind of joke. I am scared of you right now," I admitted, hating the way my layers continued to unfold in front of him despite my best efforts, leaving me even more vulnerable. "Because I can see where this ends for me."
Aiden didn't say anything for a long moment. He just stared at me, and it was as if piece after piece was coming together in his head. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the final puzzle looked like.
"I'm scared, too," he finally said, and his voice came out quiet. "Hell, I'm terrified, because I'm dealing with some very new thoughts and . . . and feelings, here, and I'm really confused and freaked out, okay? I feel like don't know anything anymore.
"But I do know that when you came out, the first face that came to my mind was Jacob's, and that pissed me the hell off, and it took seeing you with him to make me realize I was pissed because I was so fucking jealous I just wanted the world to open up and swallow him whole. And I know . . . I know what I want, even if I have no damn idea why I want it. That's all I can offer, Noah. I don't have any promises."
I didn't say anything. That seemed to stress him out, because he ran his hands down his face and leaned his head against the wall for a long moment. I wished I could see his thoughts, because maybe they'd help me figure out my own.
"I kissed you because that was the only thing I could think about doing," he started again. "It's been all I could think about doing since Ashley's party. Or maybe since before that, I don't . . ." he shut his eyes and took a breath, then opened them again. "I don't know. I'm not making any sense. I feel like my brain's not working. I feel like it hasn't been working for weeks."
He sighed, and I could see distress in his expression. Something else, too, that I couldn't pinpoint.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. A part of me wanted promises. There was so much security in someone like Jacob, who knew who he was and knew he wouldn't change. Who was so relaxed and comfortable with who he was, who I didn't expect anything to go beyond the surface with.
But Aiden was Aiden. He had a whole other part of me entirely dedicated to himself. When he kissed me, he may not have made a promise, but he'd pulled one from me, beyond my control.
There was a third part of me, though, that still didn't know what to think at all. That wanted to just resent him and be over with it, because the fear that he was just fucking with me—maybe to spite me because of Jacob—was still there, persistent as ever. I knew it was irrational, but sometimes fear was easier to cope with than hope.
The big question was, would Aiden do something like that?
I remembered a couple of weeks ago, when he came to my house in the middle of the night seeking comfort after his parents' fight. It seemed impossible that that same boy would do something like this to hurt me.
So the big question remained unanswered.
"And what is it that you want?" I asked, because I didn't know what else to say without giving more of myself away.
He opened his mouth, then seemed to decide against whatever he'd been about to say. For a moment, frustration crossed his face, mingled with confusion. Then it left.
Stepping forward, he slid his hands underneath the shoulders of the leather jacket I wore. "This isn't what I want," he said softly. Slowly—slowly enough to make me catch my breath—he pushed the jacket off of my shoulders and moved behind me to pull it down my arms.
Then he went into my closet, swapping the jacket for my favorite gray cardigan. He stood behind me again, and I stayed still, letting him slide the sweater onto me. When he walked around to stand in front of me, his hands moved up my arms to hold my collar, his eyes following a similar path.
"This is what I want," he said finally.
I was quiet for a long moment. I took a deep, shaky breath, and I said, "I still can't tell if you're serious about this."
His response was, "Yes, you can."
I looked down at his hands at my collar, then up at his eyes. In them, I found the answer to my big question, clear as day. Biting down on my lip and hoping I wasn't making a mistake, I nodded. "Yes," I breathed. "Yes I can."
So I did it. I tentatively closed the space between us. He responded instantly, his hands moving to the back of my neck to pull me closer. Mine held the sides of his shirt, anchoring myself tight and holding his torso flush against mine. I didn't even realize we were moving until my lips parted in a gasp as my back hit the wall, and he used the opportunity to push forward and kiss me deeper.
Any inhibition was lost to the heat between us. Aiden was demanding, and his intensity fueled my own. He was telling me something, and I heard it, and I felt it, and could only hope that I was saying it back.
I leaned back in a futile attempt to reorganize my thoughts, but his lips chased mine, and I let myself get lost again in the sensation of it all. It was hot and it was bold and it was completely unexpected yet long-awaited, and I loved it. Certain feelings were irreplaceable, and this would forever go down as one of them.
When we both needed to breathe and were forced to pull apart, I watched as a big shit-eating grin spread across Aiden's face, and I felt my own lips curve upward, too. He let out a small, relieved laugh and put his arms around me, pulling me against him. With my head rested on his chest, I could hear the erratic, fast-paced beating of his heart, and despite the fact the I knew I was taking a total risk with him, I wasn't sure when the last time was that I'd felt as safe as I did in that moment.
"I really hate fighting with you," I said softly, my own arms winding around his torso.
"I do, too," he mumbled. "Let's never do that again."
"Okay," I chuckled. His heart was still pounding hard, and he was breathing hard, too. "First time making out with a dude, huh?" I teased.
"Sure was," he said, and I could hear his smile. "Now that, I wanna do again. I can't believe it took me so long to realize you're, like, super hot."
Simultaneously laughing and blushing, I said, "Who are you?" because I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to Aiden, in all of his (not-so) straight glory, calling me hot.
"Your boyfriend, hopefully."
I felt myself freeze a little. Aiden was just throwing surprise after surprise at me tonight. "Don't people usually go on dates before they decide that kind of thing?"
"Well I'm impatient and I've already decided," he said. He sounded so much sure than he had just minutes before, when he'd said that he didn't have any promises. I didn't have to ask why, though—if what he'd felt when we kissed was anything like what I'd felt, I knew why. "I just can't tell what you want."
"Yes, you can."
He was silent for a moment. Then, "Yes, I can."
I pressed a gentle kiss to the spot where his collar met his neck. "It's weird," I mused. "I never thought you were into relationships."
"Well I bet thirty minutes ago you didn't think I was into you, either," he said, which, to be fair, was completely true. "You're learning so much tonight."
"Thank you for doing so much for my education," I said sarcastically, tilting my chin to look up at him.
"It's been a pleasure," he said, one of his hands moving to cup my jaw.
"I'm thinking I've got a lot left to learn, though."
"And I am more than willing to teach you."
Then he kissed me again, and I kissed him back again, and my brain kept saying, holy shit, this is the third time I'm kissing Aiden freaking Mendoza.
I had to admit, my dreams about this had never included two weeks of fighting and a stupid party in the build up. It all seemed worth it now, though.
He left my lips to kiss my cheek and leaned back to look at my face. "I'm serious about this, you know," he said, any earlier joking gone from his expression. "And I get that's hard to believe, because I don't think I've ever said that before in my life, but I mean it. I'm still figuring things out, but I want you with me—like this—while I do. I've got questions about who I am, not how I feel."
I smiled. I could tell he was trying, and I wasn't going to ask for more than that, because I knew what he was going through. It wasn't easy. "I believe you."
He hugged me again. After a few moments, he absentmindedly said, "You've been changing. Ever since Brit and Ash had you do that freaky makeover thing. But I don't just mean the clothes and the hair. Little things, too—like these tiny differences in the way you talk that most people probably wouldn't notice, but are obvious to me. And if making all these changes makes you feel more confident, then by all means, go for it. Just . . . make sure you're feeling confident in yourself, not someone else."
I nodded against his chest. I think I'd been needing to hear that for a while, and it meant something coming from him.
"Yeah," I sighed. The new clothes and demeanor made me feel good, sure, but they made me feel good because I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to, not what I wanted. "I think I just felt like I couldn't hang out with you guys if I didn't play the part at least a little. And maybe I thought you'd like me more, I don't know."
I felt his hand run up my back. "My friends like you because you're awesome, not because you changed for them," he said. "Plus, I dig the nerdy thing. I miss the way you used to do your hair—as in, when you used to get out of bed, run a hand through it once, and leave it like that. Somehow it always still looked perfect. And I miss those two or three days a week where you'd feel too lazy to put in contacts and wear your glasses instead. I miss the dry, intelligent jokes you used to make, but that you haven't made in a while, maybe because none of my friends understand them.
"More than all of that, though, I miss those five-minute-long tangents you would go on about some book or article you read. I never knew what the hell you were talking about, but you always got so excited, and that made me happy."
Moments like these were what made me fall so damn hard for him.
I didn't really know what to say, because I felt like he'd said everything, so I leaned over and kissed him. Number four.
"Wait," he said against my lips. "What about Jacob?"
"Who?" I said cheekily, and I could feel him grinning as he kissed me again. Five.
•••
I tapped Joey's shoulder, and he turned around in his seat, grinning when he saw me. It was lunch on Monday afternoon, and it was the first time I'd spoken to him—or anyone, really, since Friday.
"Hey, radio-silence," he teased. "Nice to hear from you again."
I smiled apologetically. "Sorry," I said. I'd spent most of my weekend at Aiden's house, studying and talking and making out and watching his siblings—you know, as your typical teenage boys do. The only person I'd made much contact with otherwise was Jacob, and that was just to tell him that we couldn't do whatever the hell we'd been doing anymore. "I've been a little busy."
He looked me up and down quizzically. "Isn't that Aiden's sweatshirt?"
The maroon hoodie I wore said BAY LAKE 2018 FOOTBALL in big white letters on the front, not to mention MENDOZA 22 on the back, so yeah, it most certainly wasn't mine. "I slept over on Saturday," I explained.
Aiden hadn't waited to tell his family. I knew that the moment I stepped into his house on Saturday afternoon, because I was met with a hyperventilating Abigail, who was freaking out and prying for every detail of how it went down and looking like she was about to explode from excitement. I couldn't say I was surprised—teen girls loved gays. It was a rule of nature.
I'd half expected Aiden's parents make me sleep somewhere other than his room, but they seemed to know as well as we did that if Aiden wanted to do something, he would find a way, and that even if he did, I would exhibit more self control than he would.
It didn't matter, because we were good. Good enough, anyways.
Lizzie raised an eyebrow at me, leaning forward in her seat. "It's Monday," she pointed out.
Smirking, I said, "Whoops."
"For a boy who's supposedly 'straight'," she said, making quotations with her fingers. "He sure lets you get away with a lot of gay shit."
"Speaking of which," I said. "Boy, have I got news for you all."
Before I could say anything else, though, I felt arms wrap around my waist from behind. "What news?" Aiden asked, resting his chin on my shoulder. In front of me, Joey's jaw dropped.
"No way," he gasped. His eyes lit up, and he looked about ready to start dancing. Happy dancing, not epileptic-flamingo dancing. "I mean, I totally knew it, but no way. "
"Yes way," I said smugly, and he pumped his fist triumphantly.
"How is it that you can get a straight guy," Lizzie said. "But I can't?"
"You could," Peter said pointedly. "And you did, but you threw it away."
"Can you let it go?" Lizzie snapped. Aiden and I exchanged a glance. Here it comes.
So Aiden took my hand and said, "Alright, time to go," and pulled me away as my table broke into bickering. I glanced over my shoulder to see Joey beaming after me, and when we made eye contact, he winked.
I really loved my best friend.
I could feel eyes on us as we walked hand-in-hand. That much was expected; Aiden Mendoza was known around school for being a lot of things, but into boys wasn't one of them. The surprise was far from surprising, and I was sure we'd be at the center off the gossip web for a good while. I didn't mind, though. It was hard to mind much of anything when I was holding hands with the boy I'd been in love with since the summer after eighth grade. My Big Bad Crush.
The thing that did surprise me was that Aiden had jumped so quickly into the role of boyfriend, publicly and everything. I'd figured he would want some time before broadcasting to the world that he wasn't a straight as it thought. Clearly, I was wrong.
Again, I most certainly didn't mind.
When we got to his table, we were met with a lot of wide eyes, and Ashley tried to conceal a high pitched squeal. But other than that, there was no big reaction, no dramatic reveal. No explanation. The only question we got was from Ashley, and it was a simple "So you guys are legit dating?" met with a simple "Yes." No Aiden, you're gay? or When the hell did this happen? or anything of the sort.
No spectacle was made. At least, not by the others. But as I was sitting down, Jacob passed by the table, his eyes instantly landing on me, and Aiden used his grip on my hand to pull me down—with a yelp on my part—onto his lap.
Jacob smirked and gave Aiden a nonplussed once-over. Leaning down close to my ear, he said, "I'm kinda proud of myself for calling it."
I could tell by Aiden's tightening hold that he hadn't heard what Jacob had said. By the amused smile on Jacob's face, he wasn't intimidated at all by Aiden's glare. Before anyone could respond, he straightened up and continued walking past.
There was silence for a second, broken by Ashley when she said, "The testosterone levels at this lunch table are astounding," and we all laughed, and that was that.
"Since when are you the jealous type?" Brit teased, looking at Aiden with playful eyes.
"Since I got a boyfriend," he answered, smiling when I kissed his cheek.
"Shit," Ashley groaned. "That was cute. Okay, I'm in pain. Stop it. But don't you dare stop it, ever. Oh my god. Okay, I'm sorry. I told myself I'd be cool and not make a big deal. But also, ouch. Everyone should be gay. Can that be a law? Hunter, you're arrested for being heterosexual."
Hunter blinked, confused. "Aren't you straight?"
Britney snorted, and she and Ashley exchanged a knowing look.
Hunter didn't seem to understand what that meant, so he turned back to us. "Please tell me you're not gonna be one of those super PDA-y couples," he whined.
"I promise you we're not," I assured, right as Aiden tightened his arms around me and said, "We most definitely are."