“If only it were that easy . . .”
“Best of luck, Renner. Remember, the sexual health of the next generation rests on your shoulders!” I call back at him before exiting the gym.
FOURTEEN
Renner is like a golden retriever who magically turned human. On our drive to Ollie’s, he has his arm out the window, belting all the wrong lyrics to a Glass Animals song （on a 2020s station）。
We were never supposed to go to Ollie’s. But the gym was occupied all day with students setting up for prom, leaving little privacy for our attempt at time travel. We plan to come back tonight after Ollie’s, when all the staff and students are gone.
I flash him a dirty look when he sings, “Sometimes all I do is love youuu,” instead of the correct lyrics, though it does nothing to dim his mood.
He’s still high from his sex ed class, which was a smashing success. In fact, he proudly declared it a “slam dunk” when he picked me up in the guidance office.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Renner has the uncanny ability to pull everything off regardless of how much effort he puts in. Every time a big test or exam rolls around, I spend every waking hour studying, and he takes pleasure in “winging it.” Just like his student council speech.
“I think I got through to them, you know? They seemed like they really wanted to learn,” he says for the fourth time in the last three blocks. “Maybe teaching really is what I was meant to do.”
“Guess you’ve found your calling,” I say, cringing at the thought of Renner demonstrating how to place a condom on a banana. At the same time, I’m glad he’s in better spirits after his parents’ divorce news. I could tell that was a real blow.
“Hey, it’s a noble one at least,” he points out as we pull onto Ollie’s crowded street. My heart drops at the sight of his packed driveway and the cars lining up on either side of the road. I’d assumed this was an intimate gathering, despite what Nori said, but it appears she wasn’t exaggerating. Ollie invited the entire town.
What used to be a neighborhood full of eighties homes has undergone a makeover. Most of the old houses have been replaced with minimalist, boxy white and gray exteriors. Ollie’s place is no exception.
Renner stares through the windshield in awe. “Holy crap. Ollie’s rich.”
Before I can respond, Renner bolts from the car and starts up the driveway, clearly eager for a reunion with his best friend.
I groan and sprint after him. Just before he unlocks the gate, I yank him back by his veiny forearm. “Wait, wait, wait. We need to talk.”
“About what?” He shoots me a quizzical look, eyes flickering to my grip on his arm. His excitement literally radiates through his veins. He’s a quintessential extrovert, and the prospect of entering a party gives him life.
I drop his arm. “About how we’re going to act?” I shouldn’t have to pose this like a question. A question he should certainly have considered by this point.
He slowly blinks. “I’m not following.”
I take a step closer, close enough to envy the density of his lash line. “Renner, we’re supposedly engaged. Don’t you think we should figure out how to act like a couple? We can’t just avoid each other at our own party.” I hate myself for saying it, but it’s true. If we’re going to carry on as normal, like Nori suggested, we can’t change our behavior too drastically.
“Oh.” He feigns disappointment. “Because I was planning to stay six feet apart from you. At all times.”
I arrow him with a get real look.
“It’s funny you mention this, because I recall saying the exact same thing this morning.”
I relent. “Fine. You were right. Happy?”
“Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair, scanning Ollie’s perfectly manicured shrubs. “So what are we talking here? Holding hands? Closed-mouth kissing? A little bit of tongue?”
When he says it like that, so breezy, a thick lump forms in my throat. “Well, no. We don’t need to be all over each other. And definitely no kissing. Closed mouth or otherwise.”
“No, no,” he says, his expression ultraserious. “If we’re sticking with the status quo, we don’t want anyone to get suspicious. We have to act like we would normally—like we’re in love,” he advises, a cheeky grin spreading over his face. He holds his hand out. “Come on, wifey.”
I mentally face-palm. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Renner loves a challenge. He also takes great pleasure in my embarrassment. This is a lethal combination.