Why is he taking a picture with that?
I read the post:
Arthur Seuss’s upcoming tour stop—New York City! May 17
He’s coming back.
Tomorrow.
He used a postcard from our past to announce his future.
There’s a lot of love in the comments from Mikey and his best friend, Jessie, and his former colleague Namrata. I’m the only asshole in New York who hasn’t shown any excitement. I feel weird liking it now. Though what if this is the best first step to reconnecting? Knowing our luck, we’re bound to bump into each other at some point. The only time New York kept us apart was when I was here and he wasn’t.
I like the post. And even though I’m standing still, my heart is racing like I’m running.
Before I can leave a comment, Dylan snatches my phone. “Love is happening, Ben!”
“We can’t even hear them—”
“Feel the love, Ben, feel the love.”
“I actually saw this proposal happen.”
“Really?” Samantha asks.
“The day I met Arthur. Remember that flash mob I told you about? It was all for these two.”
During the chaos of that moment, I left. My breakup with Hudson was really fresh, and even though I had a fun debate about the universe with Arthur, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of that. Not once did I think I was going to fall in love with the boy wearing a hot dog tie.
“That’s some luck stumbling into their wedding,” Samantha says.
More like the universe at work.
“They’re so young,” I say. “What are they, early twenties?”
“Engaged for two summers,” Samantha whispers, like she’s trying to hear the vows. “Must be real.”
“My parents got married young,” Dylan says. “That all worked out.”
“Your mother hates your father,” Samantha says.
“She hates that he chews with his mouth open, never replaces the toilet paper roll, lies about his taxes, and wakes her up in the middle of the night to talk about his dreams before he forgets them. But she doesn’t hate him.”
I know his parents—there’s a little hate going on there.
I can’t believe I’m witnessing the Post Office Woman’s wedding. When they exchange their first kiss as married people, we cheer for them like they’re old friends, even though she was really rude to me. I never thought this would be the first wedding I’d attend. Maybe I can use this in a story one day.
Then, suddenly, everything goes dark as hands cover my eyes, and a familiar voice says, “Guess who, Ben Hugo Alejo.”
“Someone very super,” I say.
Mario removes his hands. “Don’t you forget it.”
I spin and take him in. This is one of those days where I’m kind of breathless at how effortlessly beautiful he is. He’s not just photogenic, he’s beautiful IRL, too. His hazel eyes are so pretty, even if they didn’t instantly catch my attention like Arthur’s blue eyes. But the closer Mario and I have gotten the past month, the more they strike me. Some attractions take more time to grow and aren’t any less great because of it.
“The Mario to Ben’s Luigi,” Dylan says.
“The Duke Dill to Ben’s Ben-Jamin,” Mario says, going straight in for a hug like he and Dylan already know each other. We’ve talked about how our Puerto Rican parents have raised us to be very affectionate, even with strangers, something we’re trying to be more mindful about out of respect for other people’s personal boundaries. Though these two seem magnetized to each other. Mario turns to Samantha. “And you, world-renowned book cover designer.”
Samantha smiles. “That’s me.”
Dylan stares. “Thank God you’re not blushing. But also, my love, how dare you? Look at this beautiful man. Blush for him! Don’t let this beauty go unblushed for.”
Mario turns to me. “He’s everything you described him to be.”
“I have a way with words.”
“Indeed you do.”
How can he make three words ignite me?
I want to be so close to him right now. The kind of close that’s not allowed in a public park. Now all I can think about is how I didn’t even get a kiss from Mario when he arrived. Or a hug. It’s this little reminder that we’re not boyfriends where that stuff feels a lot more automatic. I want to be with someone who can’t keep his lips off me or whose hand always finds mine as if they were never supposed to be apart. But with Mario I can’t always tell if he even wants to be kissing me and holding my hand. Sometimes he points out cute guys on the street like he’s encouraging me to go for it. Like it wouldn’t bother him. I would totally be uncomfortable if he flirted with someone else in front of me.