Sage
I’d always thought the library’s glass-walled study rooms were great for people-watching. You could be busy doing calculus homework, and then glance up to see anything happen. A librarian reshelving books, boys playing leapfrog down the long hallway, maybe even a couple sneaking downstairs to “explore” the stacks together.
It didn’t occur to me that the windows worked both ways until Nick and I agreed to study together one night. It’s fine, I told myself when the door clicked shut behind me. It’s totally fine. Keep it professional, like you’re project partners or something. Nick was already sitting at the cozy pine table, his hair disheveled.
“Hey,” I said as I took the chair across from him. “How was practice?” Homecoming two weeks ago had brought the end of fall sports. Hockey season was now upon us. I felt a sudden burst of pride, thrilled that Nick had been named captain this year.
“Ugh,” Nick said, groaning. “Good, but also brutal. It’s No Puck Luck Week.”
I sucked in a breath to commiserate with him. No Puck Luck Week happened right after varsity tryouts, when the hockey coaches skated the team into the ground. The guys didn’t touch the pucks at practice; it was all power skating and conditioning drills. “Yeah, I heard,” I said. “Charlie was whining about it in architecture today.”
Nick half-chuckled, half-rolled his eyes. “Yet he smokes us in sprints every time.” He shook his head. “I still don’t fully get it. He’s so good, but he’s not gonna play. All the top D3 programs, and he passed.”
“Wait, what?” I stopped unloading my backpack. “He said no? He’s not playing?”
Nick nodded.
“He didn’t tell me,” I whispered. Charlie hadn’t mentioned college in a while, and I hadn’t asked. I knew he’d turned down Bowdoin after his less-than-enthusiastic visit, but then he’d stopped talking about the process altogether. My stomach swirled. There was only a month left until early decisions were released. Only Nick knew where I’d decided to apply, his response shooting some confidence up my spine. “I like that.” He’d nodded, smiling. “I can see you there.”
“Yeah,” he said now. “Back in October, he said he wanted to go…” He paused. “Nowhere near here.”
My heart twisted. Nowhere near here?
“What does that mean?”
“Not New England. That’s what he told Mom and Dad. He said he wants a lot of options, and that hockey limited them. Dad was bummed at first—he was really pulling for a NESCAC—but he’s coming around. Mom too.”
“Oh, that’s good…” I heard myself say, but trailed off. Why hadn’t Charlie told me? I suddenly felt sick from all these secrets piling up. How did we get here? I wondered. And how can we get back to truly being us?
“So I guess we’ll see,” Nick said.
“Yeah,” I echoed. “We’ll see.”
We worked on homework quietly for the next hour, only pausing to nudge each other under the table. I giggled when Nick propped his heels up on my knees and leaned back in his chair. “Stop it,” I said, covering my mouth. “People could see.”
He smiled and shrugged, dimple deepening. I wanted to kiss it, but instead, buried my face in my history book. Not here, not now.
But Nick’s dimple wasn’t the only distraction; his phone kept vibrating. “Okay, who is it?” I asked once he’d unlocked it and was typing a text back.
“Emma,” he said. “With a question about hockey stuff. She’s our manager this season.”
I nodded, but also gritted my teeth. Emma was perfectly nice, and I had no reason to dislike her, but here’s the thing: In life, I think everyone has a person they can’t explain why they don’t like; they just don’t like them. Emma was that person for me. Something about her bothered me, and it wasn’t because she liked Nick.
Well, part of it was.
You have fun? I’d texted Nick after the dance, and he’d replied: Yeah, lots!
Lots? I mean, clearly they’d had fun. Nick and Emma were friends. I’d seen them on the dance floor together, laughing as he tripped over his own two feet. But lots of fun? He’d had lots of fun with Emma freaking Brisbane?
So when Nick asked how my night went, I sent back: No complaints!
Even though Charlie had basically dragged me out of the PAC. “Keep moving,” he muttered as Nina asked where Luke was. “We need to leave…”
I risked stretching a hand across the study table for a quick second. Nick put down his pencil to lace our fingers and lift them to his lips. I expected a kiss, but a ripple reverberated when he playfully bit one of my knuckles.
My voice was breathy: “Nicholas Carmichael!”
The dimple appeared again. “What?” he asked, right as I heard footsteps outside in the hall. Someone was coming.
I unlaced my hand from his, and a beat later, Charlie strolled past our room with his arm casually slung over Val’s shoulders, busy whispering something in her ear. Nick cleared his throat once they’d disappeared. “So that’s something,” he commented. “Those two?”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed. Charlie and Val were still going strong, much to Bexley’s surprise. Over a month now. I suspected Charlie was procrastinating dumping her, since his first attempt had failed miserably. “But it’ll end soon,” I added, unable to stop some truth slip out: “I want it to end soon.”
Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. “You do?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I hope he realizes it soon, that she isn’t right for him.” I thought again of Charlie and me fleeing the dance, and Nina unable to find Luke. Something had to have happened, since Charlie started avoiding Luke since then. He ate every meal with the hockey guys now.
Nick didn’t respond. I wanted to ask what he thought, if he had the same inkling I did, but I didn’t. His eyes had already dropped down to his math notes.
So I reached to take his hand and playfully bit one of his knuckles, like he’d done earlier. When he didn’t react, I did it again. He still didn’t laugh or look at me, but I caught his lips curl into a small smile.
“People could see,” he murmured.
Maybe I want them to, I murmured back.
Just not aloud, because I reminded myself I wasn’t allowed.
It was dark when we slipped out the library’s side door, and I let Nick walk me home. The back way on Darby Road, free of streetlamps. But somehow Nick had night vision. “Watch out!” he’d say every couple of minutes. “Massive pothole!”
Then I laughed as he curved his arm around my waist so he could pick me up and smoothly swing me forward. “Thanks for the warning.”
Nick kissed my forehead. “I do what I can.”
* * *
Luke dumped the remainder of our popcorn in the trash as we left the movie theater Saturday. It was only the two of us, the girls hanging out with the guys tonight. The flock, we’d started calling our group. “So what did you think?”
“To be honest,” I said, “I kinda fell asleep. Wes Anderson’s dialogue is too talky for me sometimes.”
“Oh, trust me, I know you fell asleep.” Luke laughed. “Because when I said, ‘Look behind us,’ I got no response.”
“What was behind us?”
Luke adjusted his backward hat. “This girl and her boyfriend were taking advantage of being in the back row.”
“Gross.” I rolled my eyes, but was really thinking, Maybe Nick and I should do that.
“It was,” he confirmed. “Especially because we know them.”
I stopped walking. “We do?”
“We do.”
“Who was it?”
“I’ll give you an excerpt from their conversation, okay?”
I nodded.
Luke cleared his throat and then said in a no time for this shit voice, “‘God, this is so boring. All they’re doing is standing there rambling in goofy ou
tfits, while the narrator rambles over them…’” He switched into an impression of someone else. “‘Yeah, Val, that’s Wes Anderson’s style.’” The annoyance returned, but then softened after a sigh. “‘Well sorry, but I’m way more interested in you than Wes Anderson…’”
I cringed.
“And then,” Luke added, “they started packing it on.”
He seemed completely unaffected by the whole thing, but I still took his hand and squeezed it. “Do you think they saw us?” I asked.
Luke shook his head and twined our fingers together before we resumed walking. “I doubt it. They snuck out with ten minutes left.”
Well, if he’s not going to dwell on it, neither will I, I decided as I started swinging our arms back and forth. Luke laughed and raised his high so I could twirl underneath it.
“Am I as good as Tate?” I joked, since apparently Charlie’s cousin loved dancing with Luke when he babysat. (“Always to Disney,” he’d told us.)
“It’s a tight race.” Luke smiled, just as someone called out: “Hey, Sage! Is that you?”
Uh-oh.
Luke and I both turned to see Val and Charlie. She now seemed anything but bored, clinging to his arm with it being impossible to miss her puffy lips. Meanwhile, Charlie was self-consciously trying to smooth down his standing-on-end hair. I glanced at Luke; his poker face was alive and well.
I plastered on a pleasant smile. “Hi, Val.”
“What did you guys see?” Charlie asked, without bothering to say hello.
“The new Wes Anderson,” Luke said nonchalantly.
Charlie’s face drained of color, and he shifted from one foot to the other, but Luke stared him down and Val didn’t bat an eye. Instead, she smiled at Luke and said, “Have you met Tristan Andrews, Luke?”
My heart skipped a beat the same way it had last week, when it had spread around campus that Luke was gay. Like wildfire. “I promise I didn’t say anything,” I’d whispered when he sat down for lunch that day at our usual table, everyone pretending not to stare at him.
“Oh, I know,” he’d said calmly. “Because it was me. Relax. I’m the source.”
“When?” I asked, shifting in my seat. “Where?”
He sighed. “It was in Spanish, and the topic of our discussion was…” He made air quotes. “‘Your ideal significant other,’ and I used el, the male pronoun, when describing mine.” He shrugged. “I guess people really do pay attention in that class. Because up until today, it certainly didn’t seem like it.”
Now, instead of pining for him, Nina was begging to know his first crush and who he thought was cute on campus. Reese too. “Tristan Andrews?” they asked hopefully, since he was really Bexley’s only other openly gay guy.
“Yes,” Luke told Val. “I know Tristan. He was in the musical with Carmichael.” He nodded at Charlie, whose face had gone from pale to translucent.
“Oh, right!” Val exclaimed, then winked. “Well, I’m really glad you’ve met.”
“Thanks,” he said drily. “Keep an eye out for our ‘Save the Date.’”
Nobody said anything. Val was once again wrapped up her boyfriend, not caring to comprehend the joke. I squeezed Luke’s hand, and it stayed silent until Charlie blurted: “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I nodded, but then noticed he was looking at Luke, not me.
Luke disentangled our fingers. “Sure.”
They walked across the lobby and stopped beside a giant cardboard cutout of Chris Hemsworth. Val asked if I was auditioning for Bexley’s Winter Dance Expo, but I wasn’t really paying attention, trying to send Charlie a mental hug from afar. He was doing the talking, but while staring at the floor. Luke was no wealth of information either, since his own expression was completely neutral as he looked at Charlie. Homecoming, I guessed again. Something happened at homecoming.
“It’ll be great,” Val said. “Emma’s got some cool choreography ideas, and I’m trying to talk Charlie into auditioning, but might need your help…”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” I replied as I saw Luke nod, and then he and Charlie were heading back over to us.
“Ready to go?” Luke asked me.
I nodded.
“What do you guys have planned for the rest of the night?” Val wondered. It was only 10:00 p.m., so we had plenty of time before our midnight curfew.
“We’re seeing another movie in ten minutes,” I lied.
“Yup,” Luke said. “And we should probably go if we want back-row seats.”
Val didn’t catch the jab. “Have fun!” she chirped, tugging Charlie’s arm. “Come on, Charlie…”
He gave us only the briefest of glances before following his girlfriend toward the exit.
* * *
“What did he say to you?” I asked Luke as we waited for Main Street’s traffic light to change so we could cross the street.
We’d hung out at the movies for a while after Charlie and Val left to avoid walking back to campus with them. I wanted to ask as soon as they were gone, but some hockey guys had spotted us. Paddy asked Luke how he’d done on their last AP Chem test. “Eh, okay.” He shrugged, and Paddy nodded understandingly.
“Yeah, I shit the bed too,” he said. “And apparently some asshole in our class aced it, so the curve’s all fucked up.”
Luke’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah, that sucks…”
“Nothing very interesting,” he responded now. “He just wanted to brag about banging Val in the bathroom.”
“Be serious.”
“I am,” he said, smirk visible in the streetlight’s glow.
I rolled my eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“Okay, maybe he didn’t say that,” he caved. “But you know that’s what happened.”
The light finally changed and we crossed the street. “Well, what did he actually say?”
“Honestly, nothing. He mumbled an apology for this text he accidentally sent me the other day. That’s all.”
My spine straightened. “What’d it say?”
“I miss you,” Luke cleared his throat. “He said it was meant for Val.”
I let out a deep breath. “Do you believe that?”
“Yeah, totally,” he answered, nodding emphatically. “The spellings of ‘Morrissey’ and ‘Val’ are so similar. It’s an easy mistake to make.”
I sighed.
“Look, it doesn’t really matter. So what if he misses me? It’s his fault. I put myself out there, and since then, he’s removed himself from the picture. That text was the first I’d heard from him since homecoming.”
So I’d been right—something did happen.
But it wasn’t my place to ask.
“He really does miss you, though,” I murmured. Because I knew he did. Charlie was different now…uneasy, tired all the time, and the light in his eyes dimmer than usual. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed it.
We walked in silence until reaching Brooks, where we would say goodbye for the night, since I was due to meet up with Nick on the golf course soon.
I gave Luke a hug. “Tonight was fun.”
“You fell asleep.”
I grinned. “Okay, so the movie wasn’t my favorite, but being with you is always fun.”
He grinned back. “You too, Sage. You make everything fun.”
* * *
It was like one of those staged, eye-roll-inducing scenes from The Bachelor: the girl squealing with excitement before flying into the guy’s welcoming arms and kissing him as passionately as possible. But I didn’t squeal, and any embarrassment vanished the second my legs locked around Nick’s waist and he stumbled before laughing into my hair. “Be gentle,” he said. “I’m barely hobbling around.” He kissed my neck. “Still sore from practices.”
“Oh, my poor captain,” I said back, and pulled back to c
up his cold cheeks with my hands. We looked at each other, breath warm between us. And all of a sudden, I was blinking back tears. Maybe because the temperature had dropped, so tonight’s sixth-hole visit was probably our last, and definitely because I had this while Charlie… I remembered earlier, how pale his face had grown and how he couldn’t even look Luke in the eye. A lump formed in my throat. “I’m so happy to see you,” I whispered to Nick.
He grinned. “I’m so happy to see you too.”
Then we kissed.
We kissed slowly for a while until Nick laid me down on our blanket and I grabbed his Patagonia to pull him on top of me. “Lose it,” I breathed a few heartbeats later. “Lose the fleece.”
Soon my hands were running through Nick’s hair and his were under my shirt, fingers sparking on my skin. My heart—my heart. “You okay?” he murmured as we kissed, his lips leaving bursts of fire against mine. “You good?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmured back. “So, so good.”
Even though a part of me wasn’t. You shouldn’t be doing this, a voice said in the back of my mind. You really shouldn’t be doing this…
But I want to, I thought. I really, really want to.
Nick’s voice grew husky later, when jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped and sweatpants slid off. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked as I pressed the sealed wrapper into his hand.
I shook my head. “No, never.”
“Me either,” he whispered, then coughed. “But I want to.”
Everything in me rippled. Because this was Nick—this was Nick Carmichael, the boy I grew up riding bikes with, the boy who gave me piggybacks, the boy I’d kissed by the bonfire.
The boy I suddenly imagined marrying someday.
“Me too.” I kissed him, as deeply as I could. “So let’s do it.”
* * *
The phone didn’t ring until afterward. Nick and I were fully entwined, with me wearing his Patagonia and him just in his old sweats and long-sleeved T-shirt. Every few seconds he’d fake-shiver so I’d snuggle closer. “Nothing could be better,” he was saying softly. “This is the most epic night, with the most epic girl. I can’t wait for more nights like this…”
I smiled as my eyes drifted shut, but they snapped open at the sound. It was a recording of Charlie slur-singing “Dancing Queen” from last June. Reese had thrown a party at her family’s apartment in the city. “This one goes out to my favorite girl,” Charlie had said, so trashed but grinning so wide. “This one’s for you, Sagey Baby!”
If We Were Us Page 13
