“Is she nice to you?”
“She is. It hasn’t been that long, but I like her a lot,” Bo admits, and I push down the jealousy. I should be happy for her.
“I’m glad. I bet she’s a lot nicer than Jenna,” I say, and Bo looks down. “And me. I’m sorry I wasn’t very nice to you. Why are you so nice to me?” I don’t understand Bo. She comes across as a stone-cold badass at school. But she adopts ugly dogs and takes care of her drunk friend who she has every right to hate.
“It’s good karma.” She shrugs, but I think she simplified it for me, like I simplified “in lak’ech.” “Good night.”
She starts to walk toward the door. But it’s cold in here, and I don’t want her to leave. What I really want is a hug.
“Noooo . . .” I reach my arms out toward her. “Cuddle.”
She laughs a little. “Seriously?”
I do my best eye smile, hoping it will make Bo melt into my arms the way her smizes make me want to melt into hers.
“Do you have something in your eyes?” she asks. I stop smizing.
“I’m cold,” I pout. Instead of cuddling me, she puts another blanket over me.
When I close my eyes, Dream Bo is right there in bed with me to keep me warm.
Dream Bo is a little stiff, so I grab her arms and pull them around me the way I want to be cuddled. I’m the little spoon, of course. I hum and hug her forearm, which is my pillow. Bo may or may not still think I’m straight, but Dream Bo knows everything. I let myself pretend for now that she’s real, and doesn’t have a nice girlfriend, and that cuddling was her idea. I pretend she likes me, too. And this gay thing. I think I could maybe get used to it.
I wake up alone with a headache that is straight-up supervillain, puppy-killing levels of evil. The sun creeping in from the cracks between the blinds is too bright. But this is the comfiest bed I’ve ever been in. I never want to leave it.
It takes me a minute to remember how I got here. To be honest, there’s a lot I can’t remember, which freaks me out.
I use all my strength to sit up. There’s a water bottle and Advil sitting on the nightstand. Bo really thought of everything. I take a couple of Advil and gulp some water. Two seconds later, I’ve downed the entire water bottle. I don’t think I had any water last night. Maybe that’s why my hangover is so bad.
After soaking up a few more moments in the bed that I’m sure is meant for royalty, I get up. I can’t avoid facing Bo forever. Especially being in her house. I open the guest room door to see her in the upstairs living room staring at her phone screen, blushing and grinning. Maye if I stop sabotaging myself, one day I could have a girlfriend that makes me blush at my phone.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” She puts her phone down. “You feeling okay?”
“I’m a little sore, and I have a headache, but yeah, I’m good.”
“That’s good. Sounds like the party was fun?”
“Not really . . . thanks for getting me.” I sit on the opposite side of the couch.
“No problem.”
I don’t say anything for a bit. She looks back down at her screen.
“So, you’re not mad at me anymore?” I finally ask. She looks up.
“I was, but I got over it.”
I sigh in relief. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know. You told me a million times last night.” She laughs. I don’t remember that. I wonder what else I told her. . . .
“Shit. Did you listen to that voice mail?”