“I know, Arthur.”
We’re both quiet for a moment.
“Hey,” I say finally. “Can I ask you something?”
He looks at me but doesn’t respond.
I swallow. “Do you feel like I ditched you?”
“I mean.” His brow furrows. “‘Ditched’ is the wrong word. Just, you know. Prioritizing, I guess? But that’s normal.”
I shake my head. “You should never expect to be ditched. If I made you feel like that—”
“You didn’t. I make myself feel like that.”
His voice is so soft when he says it. But the words reverberate in my head like he yelled them into a cave. I make myself feel like that.
Suddenly, all I can think about are those three months we didn’t talk—and the fact that neither of us has mentioned it since. I guess it felt like there was this unspoken agreement where we pretend spring semester never happened. But maybe we should talk about it. Friends should be able to talk about their friendship, right?
“I think I fucked up,” I say finally.
Ben looks at me. “What?”
“With you.” Ben opens his mouth to reply, but I head him off at the pass. “I know it’s been kind of weird between us, maybe? I didn’t know whether it was okay to talk about Mikey stuff with you.”
“You can talk about anything with me.”
“Yeah, but.” I pause, trying to sift through my swirling brain for something halfway coherent. “I just didn’t know how much to say, I guess, and I wasn’t trying to be an asshole—I’m not saying you were still hung up on me,” I rush to add.
“What if I was?”
I freeze. “You mean—”
“Oh.” Ben’s cheeks turn bright red. “Sorry, I just mean, so what if I was? Like, it wouldn’t have been your fault. I wouldn’t want you to stop talking to me.”
“I mean, I kind of got the feeling you did want me to stop talking to you.”
For a minute, Ben doesn’t respond—he just glances up at a park sign and steers us past a fork in the trail. But then he does this sharp little inhale. “I never replied to your birthday message.”
“It’s fine, seriously. I’m sorry—”
“No, this is on me. I meant to reply, but we hadn’t talked in almost two months, and it felt so big, you know? And then I kind of built it up in my head, and the longer I didn’t reply—”
“Ben, it’s fine!”
He shoots me a quick smile and doesn’t speak for a moment.
“Well,” he says finally. “You guys seem really great together.”
I blink, feeling slightly untethered. “You mean—”
“You and Mikey.”
“Same with you and Mario. He seems like an amazing person.” I wince a little. “Sorry, I don’t know if that’s a bummer to talk about.”
Ben laughs. “Why would it be a bummer?”
“Because of California? It sucks that he’s moving.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks flood with heat. Maybe the Mario-moving-to-California topic is off-limits. Ben certainly hasn’t mentioned it—not since he dropped the news in a random Sunday-night text. I’m so curious, though.
He hasn’t said anything about a breakup. But where else could this go? Ben’s made it very clear he’s not a long-distance kind of guy.
“I mean, it’s not a definite thing, but yeah. It sucks,” Ben says finally. He presses his lips together and blinks. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course! Always.”
He draws a quick breath. “Do you ever feel stuck?”
“Stuck? Like—”
“Not—I don’t mean Mario. I don’t know. It’s just life in general. I’m not loving school. Not loving Duane Reade.”
“Duane Reade, like the store?”
He looks away, blushing. “Yeah. Um.” He unzips his cardigan, revealing a small embroidered logo. “So, I’m working there now. For my dad.”
“Oh, okay! Cool.”
He makes a face. “I mean, I need the money, but it’s just kind of a frustrating job. And it’s a little better in the summer, but when school starts up again, I’ll have barely any time to get classwork done, much less work on my book.”
“That really sucks.” I pause. “Maybe there’s a way to make your book count for class credit or something?”
“I don’t know,” Ben says. “I don’t know if I want to.”