“I prefer ‘efficient.’” I smile up at him. “And I’m fine. But I have to pee.”
I spring to my feet, but as soon I’m upright, my stomach does a sea-monster lurch. I clamp my hand over my mouth.
Mikey looks up. “You okay?”
“Shit.” Ben leaps toward me, grabbing my cup and setting it down on the coffee table. “Hey. Are you . . . ?”
I nod frantically, trying not to gag.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe.” He presses his hand on my back, and I feel like someone pixelated my brain. But then Ben’s eyes dart to Mikey, and his hand falls to his side. “Um. Someone should probably get him to the bathroom?”
“Oh!” Mikey jumps up. “Okay. Um—”
Ben points to it. “Back there.”
“I know,” says Mikey.
“I’m sorry. Mikey—”
“You’re fine.” Mikey slips his arm around my waist. “Let’s just—”
“Hey, I think I’m gonna split,” Dylan says suddenly.
Ben eyes him warily. “You okay?”
“Never been better. Gonna go rescue my woman from Satan’s clutches.”
My stomach wrenches again—I clap both hands over my mouth.
“I know, Seussical, I know. He disgusts me, too.”
“Okay!” Ben turns to me. “Go with Mikey. You’re about to puke on the floor. And, D, promise me you won’t kill Patrick.”
“I promise you nothing.”
Ben opens his mouth to reply, but I don’t catch a word of it. Because, it turns out, I’m still a human volcano at age almost-nineteen.
Mikey gets me to the bathroom just in time.
Chapter Seventeen
Ben
Sunday, May 31
Mario’s family is out—his brothers on their way to an escape room, his parents at work—so I came over this morning to his house in Queens. I really wish I had my own place so I could have sex with my potential boyfriend whenever I want. Still, catching up with Mario after him being away was a really, really great way to start the day.
I shower alone, generously using his bodywash to keep that Mario smell around me a little longer. When I come out of the bathroom, Mario surprises me with a plate of scrambled eggs and a smiley face drawn in ketchup.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Late breakfast,” Mario says. “Eat up.”
I follow him back into his bedroom, which is the basement he shares with one of his brothers. It’s definitely a man cave down here with gaming consoles, a beat-up couch guests use when they spend the night, minifridge for his brother’s Snapple addiction, and a fifty-inch TV. Mario’s workshop table where he makes his shirts is close by. I sit on his bed, where we’ve eaten a few meals together before, but it’s usually something his parents cooked or that we ordered in. I know it’s just scrambled eggs with McDonald’s packet ketchup, but it was a choice he made. To take care of me.
“You’re in a good mood,” I say.
“How could I not be after all that?” Mario says, tossing my condom into his trash and burying it under rejected sketches for shirt designs. “I don’t know, Alejo, I finally feel like I’m finding myself. It’s like I’m getting closer and closer to becoming someone I’ve wanted to believe so badly wasn’t some stupid dream.”
“That also thanks to me or your trip?”
Mario leans in and kisses me. “Both. I wanted to talk to you about everything last night actually, but we didn’t have the time.”
“Sorry, I wouldn’t have brought you to over to Arthur’s if I knew.”
“No apologies necessary. I had so much fun.” Mario sits down. “I’ve been having a lot of fun with you especially.”
“Same.” My heart is pounding. I think this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“I like you more than I’ve liked my past boyfriends, Alejo. No disrespect to them, but they don’t hold a candle to you. Tú eres amable. Tú eres bastante guapo. Tú corazón lo es todo.”
I’m kind.
I’m really handsome.
My heart is everything.
No matter how much time I’ve spent alone building up my self-worth, I still welcome Mario’s words about how much I mean to him. I believe him when he says my heart is everything.
“How do I say ‘Are you trying to make me cry?’ in Spanish?”
Mario smiles.
I grab his hand. “You’re one of the most generous souls I know. And you’re pretty damn handsome yourself.”