When we sit to eat at the arcade restaurant for dinner she says something that makes my heart stop.
“Hey, do you want to be my girlfriend again?” she asks, while casually showing me the menu like she didn’t just flip my whole world on its side.
“What?” I ask, to make sure I heard correctly. There’s no way Bo just asked me out.
She points to the menu and laughs. There are bold letters saying they offer free ice cream on Valentine’s Day to couples who buy any of the arcade food. I try not to visibly sink, because when I thought she was asking me out for real, I wasn’t even scared.
“Oh!” I clear my throat. “Yes! For the ice cream.”
We play up the assumption that we’re together one more time. I’m nervous to do anything more than hold hands, since I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. What gets me feeling some type of way about it is that we keep holding hands when no one is looking. I’m not going to be the one to let go, and apparently neither is she, so we leave still holding hands.
Ice cream cones in our free hands, we walk around the mall flaunting our fake relationship. Bo seems to have completely forgotten about her other fake girlfriend. She’s an even worse liar than I am. The fear of looking “too gay” usually makes my stomach roll, but right now I’m too excited to think straight. I don’t want to ruin this by thinking “straight.”
Bo has this big smile on her face, and every now and then she starts swinging our arms like we’re little kids. She’s too cute sometimes. All the time. I feel like a child with her. I know I’m still technically a kid, but I already can’t wait to retire. Because of all the work and homework and stress, I’m surprised I don’t already have a full head of gray hair. It’s different with Bo, though. I feel like a kid. Like anything is possible if I can imagine it.
Pretending with Bo is so different than pretending with Jamal. When Jamal held my hand, it didn’t warm the rest of my body or make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. We never held hands longer than we had to. No one gave us weird looks like they are now. Somehow even that doesn’t bother me.
I feel like I’m soaring, until I see the one person with the power to bring me crashing back down.
21
Thou Shalt Step On Legos, Bitch
Bianca.
We’re walking right in her direction and it’s too late to turn around. Instead of trying to hide, I hold Bo’s hand tighter. I want Bianca to see this. Bo gives me a curious look, and all I can do is smile at her. Because fuck Bianca. I’m happy right now, and not even she can ruin that.
From the corner of my eye, I can tell by how far Bianca’s jaw is hanging that she has very much noticed us by now. Is she jealous? It must be pretty earth-shattering for her to realize she isn’t still the center of my universe. Not that she ever was. Bo and I walk right past her, and I don’t even give her a second look.
“Yami?” Bianca calls out just when I think I’m in the clear. Bo turns her head, which kind of blows my whole pretending-Bianca-doesn’t-exist cover. I keep walking.
“I think someone’s calling you?” Bo says.
“Nope, didn’t hear anything.” I walk faster, pulling Bo along with me.
“Yami!” Bianca’s voice is closer now, and before I know it, she’s grabbing my shoulder.
I finally let go of Bo’s hand and snatch at Bianca’s.
“Oh, don’t touch me,” I say as I throw her hand off my shoulder. Seriously, how dare she?
“Sorry.” Bianca puts her hands up. “It’s been forever. . . . I’m glad you, um, moved on.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I moved on a long time ago,” I say, and smile at Bo, just with my eyes. I’m not doing it because of Bianca, either. I guess I’m trying to tell Bo something right now. Maybe she can figure it all out right now, and maybe I want her to. I want this to be a sweet moment between us, but one of Bo’s eyes is twitching and the other is about to pop out of its socket.