The whole world grinds to a halt.
“Ben . . . like Ben? Alejo?”
Jessie takes a bite of cookie and nods.
“But you said—”
“Yup.”
“So why didn’t you . . . ?” But Jessie looks pointedly at my phone, and my cheeks flood with heat. “Oh.”
Jessie pauses. “So how’s Mikey?”
“Great! I mean, he’s fine.” My head feels foggy. “Why was Ben at Levain Bakery?”
“Getting cookies?” Jessie says. “So weird, right? He was with Dylan. It honestly took me a second to place them. Did you know Dylan has a man bun?”
“Did Ben look different?” I squint, trying to remember the last time I saw a selfie of him. He usually posts pictures of buildings and graffiti and boring stuff, like pigeons. I guess he still hasn’t figured out that his face is the best view in New York.
Nope, nope, nope. Delete that thought.
“Nah, he looked the same. I think I just wasn’t expecting to see them. Dylan says he misses your raw sexual energy.”
“I miss him, too!”
I don’t think I’ve talked to Dylan in a year, maybe more. But I knew about the man bun because I still follow him online—he and Samantha are definitely my favorite Instagram couple. Last week, Dylan posted about a fort they made in Samantha’s dorm room—basically just a blanket spread across two stacked piles of cardboard packing boxes. But they’d pushed Samantha’s bed underneath so they could spend their last night of school under a canopy, and if that isn’t peak romance, I don’t know what is. Of course, I spent the whole week thinking about how I’d replicate it with Mikey on our last night—I even bought glow-in-the-dark stars from the toy store on Main Street so we could pretend we were sleeping outdoors.
But in the end, I never even mentioned it to Mikey, even though I’m sure he would have humored me and gone along with it. I guess I just kept picturing him looking at me with a wait-why-are-we-doing-this face. Or asking if it was really worth the extra cleanup we’d have to do in the morning. Talk about the ultimate self-answering question. If your boyfriend asks whether your romantic gesture is worth doing, it’s not worth doing.
I don’t know, maybe Mikey would have been super into the whole fort idea. He’s not the type for spontaneous romantic inspiration, but he’s pretty persuadable, especially when there’s no PDA involved. And he likes to make me happy. He does make me happy. And so what if dating Mikey isn’t exactly one big surprise party. Love doesn’t have to be like that. It doesn’t have to be showy or maudlin or larger than life. Love can be a pile of folded laundry and a full tank of gas, or your steady, sweet boyfriend spending an extra night at school to help you pack up your dorm room. Anyway, not every single relationship is going to be— “Ben Alejo,” says Jessie, and I almost knock over my milk. “On day one. How random is that?”
“Totally. Totally random,” I say, nodding. Okay, wow. Now my head’s spinning. Windmill brain, dreidel brain, giant fucking tornado brain. Because yesterday, Ben liked my post about moving to New York. And suddenly he’s hanging out at Levain Bakery, in my neighborhood, on my moving day? Talk about a neon sign from the universe. Unless— “Did Ben say anything?”
Jessie tilts her head. “Anything?”
“About me.” My cheeks go warm. “I don’t know. I was just wondering—I don’t even know if he knows I’m here.”
“Oh, definitely. He called it your New York do-over.”
My lungs stop working. I open my mouth and then shut it.
Jessie raises her eyebrows. “You okay?”
“What? Yeah, of course. I’m just . . .” I pause. “Do you think I should text him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Because of Mikey?”
“Yes! Art, come on—”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “I’m not talking about a booty call. I’m talking about a friendly, platonic ‘hey, what’s up, we haven’t talked in a sec—’”
“Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Arthur, two seconds ago we had to lie about me running into Ben—”
“We?” I look at her incredulously. “That was you!”
“Yeah, because how many times have you told me Mikey gets weird when you talk about your New York summer?”
“You think I don’t talk about that summer with Mikey?”