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If This Gets Out(11)

Author:Sophie Gonzales

“Er, I saw them when I came in. They seemed close.”

Jon presses his fist to his forehead. “Can you find him and ask if he’s seen Angel? I’ll keep looking. Text me if Ruben knows anything.”

“Okay.”

I leave the dance floor, and go back out into the fair, searching for Ruben. I bet he’s here with that Adonis guy. I can only hope they aren’t being too obvious.

I shake my head. What Ruben does is his business.

I just wish he’d be careful about it. Anyone could’ve seen him. If I noticed, I’m sure other people did.

Except I spot Ruben by the pirate ship, and he’s no longer with the Greek god. He’s alone, and he seems to be in a hurry, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. A girl shouts his name, but he waves, and keeps walking, leaving her looking crestfallen.

I follow after him.

He stops a ways from the party, by the shore of the lake, and picks up a rock. He skips it, and it goes so far I lose sight of it.

I keep my head down all the way until I reach him. There’s nobody else anywhere nearby. Just us, and the lake, with the neon lights and sounds of the party distant behind us.

I notice his eyes are glassy. All thoughts of Angel fall away.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’m … whatever. Nice shirt.”

“Nice sweater,” I say haltingly.

He picks up another rock, and throws it. I shove my hands into my pockets and step closer to him. Usually, I’d let him get away with changing the subject to small talk. But something happened to him, something to do with that guy, I can feel it. If I’m going to fix it, we need to cut to the chase.

“Does this have anything to do with a guy?” I ask. “Want to talk about it?”

“Um. Nope. Not really.”

I pick up a rock, and try skimming it. It only skips once before sinking. Back at Camp Hollow Rock, the performing arts camp where Saturday started, I got really good at this, but I’ve clearly lost my touch.

“Okay, so,” he says. I smile, because Ruben has never been the silent and stoic type; I’m not shocked it only took him two seconds to crack. “I was talking to this guy, and it was going well. Like, really well, you know?”

“I do.”

“But then he asked me if I could listen to his demo, and show it to Galactic Records if I liked it.”

“Oh fuck.”

He gives me a tight smile. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s not like it’s your fault.” He skips another rock. “Sorry, I’m being moody. I just thought he might’ve liked me for me, you know?”

As I scan his face, I get a pang in my chest.

Ruben’s the sweetest, best guy. But he seems to be a magnet for guys who just want to use him. I don’t even know why; objectively, Ruben is hot, and funny, and cool—the trifecta, essentially. Yet he’s always treated like he’s disposable. Someday someone is going to figure out that he’s a dream guy. It’s just a matter of time.

I hope it happens soon, though. Because seeing Ruben like this guts me.

“I’ll be over this in ten minutes,” he says, gesturing to himself. “I just need a second. You don’t have to stick around for it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’re missing the ‘biggest event of our lives.’”

I smile.

Because, honestly? I know I’m exactly where I want to be.

THREE

RUBEN

Zach sits with me while I simmer down. I didn’t mean to throw a tantrum in the middle of Angel’s party, and I’m annoyed at myself for dragging Zach away, but mostly I’m grateful to have him here.

My mood is twofold. I’m pissed about being used for my connections—by a guy I’d started to suspect was actually straight by the end of our chat, to add in an extra helping of humiliation. This would be bad enough for most people, but after my experience with Christopher Madden (Oscar-winning actor for a reason, apparently, because he did a world-class performance at convincing me he was into me before abruptly insisting he was straight when the lines got too blurry last year), I’m especially impatient with being treated as a new experience rather than a human being.

Usually, I’d be able to take this in my stride and push past it, but tonight, I’m essentially a toddler that didn’t get his naptime. This four-day break was meant to be my opportunity to slow down and recharge, but after all that quality time with my parents I feel more wound-up than ever. I guess I’d forgotten what being at home was really like. It’s funny how time and space cast a rosy glow over memories, making them seem less painful than they were in reality.

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