The elevator lands on the third floor with a ding, and I grab Mikey’s suitcase. But the moment my hand grazes the knob of 3A, the door swings wide open.
“Hey! Sorry!” Jessie props the door open, smiling brightly. “I don’t want to get in your way. Just dropped off my laptop. I’m meeting Namrata and Juliet for appetizers. Anyway, Mikey! Hi! I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Glad to be here.” He smiles shyly.
“Remind me, what time are you meeting up with Ben?” she asks, turning to me.
My stomach drops. “Um. We haven’t really . . .”
Jessie’s eyebrows shoot up, the world’s most crystal clear What the fuck, Arthur? expression.
Mikey doesn’t say a word, even after she leaves. He just follows me into the apartment, where I jerk the door shut too loudly and then fumble around with the light switches. My heart’s pounding so hard, I can practically taste it. “Hey. So. I was just about to tell you.”
He’s staring down at the floor, his expression inscrutable. When he speaks at last, his voice is as faint as a ghost. “You’re doing something with Ben tonight?”
“We!” I say quickly. “Oh my God, not like, without you. Here, sorry, I don’t mean to make you stand in the foyer.” I laugh weakly, spreading my arms. “Welcome to Uncle Milton’s apartment.”
Mikey nods stiffly.
“Are you thirsty? I could get you some water or, I don’t know. I think there might be Coke—”
“I’m fine.” He looks pointedly away from me.
“Okay.” I cross the room, sinking into the love seat, scooting to one side to make room. “Can we talk about it?”
He doesn’t reply, but he sets his flowers on the table and settles in beside me, his back perfectly straight. When I take his hand, he doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t lean into it either. There’s no trace of the flustered softness from the lobby. I study his profile. “Mikey.”
He’s staring at his knees. “So we’re seeing Ben. Tonight.”
“I know it’s not ideal. It’s just, we have the show tomorrow afternoon, and then Ben’s got dinner with Dylan, and then Mario gets back from his trip, and you leave so early on Sunday, so—”
“Tonight’s the night. Got it.”
“Not until later. And it’s only for dessert, and I think you’re going to like the place I picked.” I squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t look up. I hesitate. “I just really want you guys to meet each other, you know? It’s important to me.”
Mikey meets my eyes at last. “Why?”
“Because you’re important to me? I don’t know. He’s my friend, and I want him to meet the guy who makes me really, really happy. Okay?”
His expression softens. “Okay.”
“Mikey Mouse, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you literally the second you walked in the door.”
“Oh, I was still in the hallway.” He smiles slightly.
“Well, you’re here now.” I kiss him on the cheek, then rest my head on his shoulder. “Do you even get how much I missed you?”
“Me too.”
And for hours, we pretty much stay like that, tucked up on the couch. I mean, we make out a little, but it’s strictly Disney Channel. We don’t even bring up the possibility of sex. Maybe that’s a waste of precious alone time, but it’s nice. We order pizza, and I take out my contacts and put on glasses. By the time we finish eating, there’s still an hour or so before we’re supposed to meet Ben, but I talk Mikey into heading out early so I can show him Central Park on the way.
Of course, Mikey barely speaks the whole way down Seventy-Fifth Street, so my brain decides to fill the space with continuous word vomit. “There’s an entrance at Seventy-Seventh, I think, if you want to pop in there, or we can just turn back at the Museum of Natural History. It’s right up there.” I point ahead, glancing sideways at Mikey, who smiles vaguely and nods. I take a breath and barrel on. “Did you ever see Night at the Museum? With Ben Stiller?”
“I . . . think so? I don’t remember. I was pretty little.”
“I refused to watch it until like sophomore year of high school, because I knew the whale would be in it, and Mikey, I was so scared of the whale.”
“The whale?”
“Uh, the giant fucking whale hanging down from the ceiling?” I look at him incredulously as we step off the curb, into a crosswalk. “How do you not know about the whale? He’s my nemesis. I’m gonna—okay, you know what, I think it opens at ten tomorrow, maybe? What time’s our show, two?”