If We Were Us

by K. L. Walther

  Those words…

  Tell him! a voice inside me said. Tell him you love him!

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t, because even though Nick now knew about Charlie, and had broken up with Emma, there was still that part of me…that part of me that worried…

  “I’m sorry,” I said instead, to fill the silence. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Thanks,” Nick replied, then sighed. “It just blows that this place is so small.” He looked out the window, toward campus. “I have stuff to do, but don’t want her to have to watch.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “I still feel awful that you had to watch…”

  A ripple went through me. “Stuff?” I asked. “What stuff?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Nick, seriously.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, seriously,” he said, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Morgan.”

  Chapter 32

  Charlie

  The end of January got weirdly warm, so Sage and I started running again. “I think you may have a problem.” She shook her head as Dag’s door clicked shut behind me. “You have zero chill with college stuff.” She smirked. “And it’s not even your college.”

  Not even your college.

  “True, it’s not,” I replied, zipping up the navy-­and-­orange windbreaker. “Because UVA is technically a university.” I yawned. “Plus, you’re one to talk…”

  She grinned and rolled her eyes. Sage was really pumped about being a Middlebury Panther next year. “The mountains!” she kept saying. “Skiing! Biking! Hiking!”

  “And school,” I’d reminded her. “Don’t forget about school…”

  That comment had earned me a punch in the arm.

  “Okay, look.” I gestured to the windbreaker. “I couldn’t resist. I’m excited and want to support.”

  “Right…” Sage said slowly, cocking her head. “You’re excited for Luke and want to support Luke.”

  A yawn saved me from answering.

  “Are you even awake?” she asked.

  “Barely.” I blinked a couple times. We started jogging around Portnoy Circle, toward Darby Road. “I only got three hours of sleep.”

  “And why’s that?”

  I didn’t answer right away, not sure I wanted to tell her. But then I swallowed hard and mumbled, “Dove asked me to her date party.”

  Sage laughed. “Oh my god, why? That’s ridiculous! You dumped her. Not the other way around. No offense, but why would she ever ask you?”

  I sighed. “Because remember what I said when I broke up with her? I really like you, but I don’t think we should be together…”

  “Right now,” she finished. The series of Valentine’s Day date parties were staggered between now and the actual holiday, and Hardcastle was kicking things off this weekend. Dove had found me after hockey yesterday, carrying a box of macarons from Pandora’s, and I hadn’t really comprehended what was happening at first. Practice had been seriously grueling, and all I wanted to do was tangle myself with Luke and watch Survivor. But the vision vanished when Dove smiled sweetly and held out the macarons. “Will you be my plus one?” she’d asked.

  “Exactly,” I told Sage.

  She sighed. “That was such a stupid idea, Charlie.”

  “Very half-­baked,” I agreed.

  “Well,” Sage said, “that sucks, but at least she got the message when you said no.”

  My stomach churned as she and I made eye contact.

  She shoved me. “Charles Christopher Carmichael, please tell me you turned her down. Tell me you didn’t say yes.”

  I was quiet.

  Another shove. “What the fuck, Charlie?”

  “Hey, I didn’t really have a choice.” I picked up my pace. Sage did too. “I mean, what was I supposed to do? Nobody says no to these things. You get invited, you go.”

  “Yeah, but you have a boyfriend.” Sage’s brows were furrowed. “What happens when she starts flirting?”

  “Then it’ll be one-­sided,” I said. “I told her it would just be as friends.”

  She gave me a look. “You should’ve asked Luke first.”

  I stared straight ahead, clenched. “I know.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “Not yet.” I shook my head. “Later today.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “Yeah, everything will be fine.” I nodded, hoping she didn’t catch the hitch in my voice. “He’ll understand.”

  Sage bit her lip. “Fingers crossed.”

  * * *

  It stayed warm the rest of the week, so everyone started dressing like it was Red Hot American Summer. Reese wasn’t impressed as we walked to Friday’s school meeting, passing guys in shorts and pastel polos and girls in short dresses and flip-­flops. “Just because the temperature goes up,” she muttered, “doesn’t mean you should dress out of season.”

  Ten minutes later, I was reviewing my notes for the meeting (as student council’s Arts Representative, I had to go over the logistics for Bexley’s Winter Dance Expo, its performances next week) when Nick sat down next to me in his PAC seat. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Good,” he said. “I visited the mail room.”

  I put down my notes. “And…?”

  “Got the goods.”

  “The lanterns came?”

  “Yup.” He grinned. “And the paint and the glow sticks.”

  I laughed. “Right, we can’t forget the glow sticks.”

  Nick elbowed me. “Fuck off. The glow sticks are key.”

  He was right, they were. Sage always brought a mess of green and purple and orange glow sticks with her when she visited the Vineyard. One of the photos on my collage was of her and Nick back in middle school. Both with braces, they were decked out in fluorescent necklaces and bracelets and holding up toasted marshmallows. It was the summer I’d realized Nick had feelings for Sage. She was smiling at the camera, but he was smiling at her.

  This summer, I thought. This summer the glow sticks and bonfires and s’mores will be back and better than ever, and maybe it won’t be just the three of us…

  “You’ve got this,” I told him. “It’s going to happen.”

  Nick sighed. “I hope so.”

  I nudged his knee. “No, you know so. She…” I trailed off, not quite sure how to put it. I thought of Sage these past few weeks, the way she acted whenever Nick hung out with us, sat with us at meals. “She glows, Nick,” I murmured. “She glows around you.”

  My brother didn’t say anything; he just watched the stage, where Sage sat on the edge with Luke and some other seniors.

  “What about you?” he asked eventually, and I saw him nod toward Luke. He didn’t need to voice the next part: Are you going to ask him to yours?

  Yes, I thought as I tried to catch Luke’s eye, feeling a twinge when he ignored me—­because Luke always knew when I was looking at him. “Stop staring,” he would sometimes say as we studied, not even glancing up from his homework. “Your econ notes might get jealous.”

  “Charlie?” Nick said, but I didn’t respond until the lights went down and Jennie assumed her post behind the podium.

  “I want to,” I told him. “I really want to.”

  * * *

  Luke was on the phone when I slipped into his room on Saturday. “Yeah, I’m not really hungry yet,” he was saying, “so I’m thinking dinner around seven?”

  He was sitting at his command center, studying his laptop screen.

  I shut the door and watched as Luke reached up and rubbed his forehead—­listening to whatever Sage was saying on the other end—­and I sort of smiled when I noticed his Arsenal jersey. He’d been really getting into Premier League soccer lately, now the newest recruit in Nick’s fan club. A bunch of guys always crowded into
my brother’s room so they could watch the Sunday games together.

  “Cool, see you then.” Luke nodded and looked over at me once he’d hung up.

  “Was that Sage?”

  “Affirmative,” he responded, and then his computer claimed his attention.

  I wrapped my arms around him from behind. “Where’re you guys doing dinner?”

  Luke leaned forward to break away. “Humpty Dumplings.”

  “Yum.”

  “Indeed.” He cleared his throat, still focused on his screen. “You should probably go.”

  I ran a hand through his hair. “Nah, there’s time.”

  “It’s 5:27.”

  “Yeah, then I guess I should,” I agreed, the party at 6:00. “You want to come? Tie my tie for me?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I’m good.”

  “Okay.” My stomach suddenly felt off. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

  “Tell Puffin I send my best wishes.”

  I just stood there, not sure what to do—­but then I grabbed the back of his swivel chair to spin him around, so we were looking each other. Luke’s mouth was in a straight line and his eyes were razor-­sharp. “I get it,” I whispered, heart going in and out. “You’re pissed.”

  Luke rolled his eyes.

  I sighed. “Then why did you say you were fine with it?” Because when I told him right after my run with Sage, I convinced myself he was. He hadn’t said anything at first. Instead, he got up and left to take a shower, but when he came back, I asked point-­blank if it was okay, and he’d nodded. So I believed him…or rather, my conscious and subconscious decided to blow off all reason and rationale to believe him.

  “Because you already fucking told her yes,” Luke said now. “It wasn’t like you asked how I felt about it.” He stood. “You made your decision before telling me, so clearly my opinion didn’t matter.”

  “I know.” I reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, but she caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Luke’s face didn’t thaw. “I don’t want you to go. I know that’s not really fair to say, but I don’t want you to go. I don’t want my boyfriend going to some romantic Valentine’s Day thing with one of his ex-­girlfriends.”

  Neither of us said anything for a couple of seconds. He was eyeing the floor, while I just held his unresponsive hand, but then I squeezed it. “Do you want me to tell her I can’t come?”

  “It’s in less than an hour,” he mumbled.

  “So?” I shrugged. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”

  Luke shook his head. “Charlie, please don’t make this my decision. That isn’t fair. You should go. She’s a good person and shouldn’t get hurt. Don’t ruin her night.” He shook me off and sat back down in his chair, spinning around to face his MacBook again.

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Luke—­”

  “You should go,” he cut me off. “Don’t want to be late.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you.”

  He was quiet, but as I turned his doorknob to leave, I caught, “Yeah, I would’ve liked that.”

  * * *

  I called home when I was sure Luke was comatose, his body completely relaxed against mine. After two hours of fending off Dove’s advances, I’d walked out of Hardcastle to see him waiting at the end of the front walk, looking so slick in his new bomber jacket, hands in his pockets. That’s your guy, the voice inside me said. Here to pick you up.

  I moved toward him. “Where’s Sage?”

  Luke shrugged. “After dinner, she bumped me to hang with Nick. He said something about an air hockey tournament?”

  “Sounds about right.” The weather had been iffy today—­misty rain—­so Nick had decided to postpone tonight’s original plan until next weekend. “Because the stars are pivotal,” he’d said. “It needs to be the apex of night skies.”

  “Can we go?” Luke asked after a few moments of us just standing in Hardcastle’s front yard. His voice dropped low. “Because you look really hot.” He gestured at me—­I’d forgone the coat and tie tonight, instead wearing a casual black blazer over a gray sweater. “Very Euro.”

  I smiled as we headed away from the girls’ houses. “It’s all for you.”

  He glanced at the ground. “I hope so.”

  “Hey.” I touched his arm. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  But he wasn’t, face looking pretty miserable when we made eye contact again. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I’m sorry.

  “Stay in Dag tonight,” I murmured, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. Then I tucked a hand in his jacket pocket. Our fingers found each other. “It’s brutal sleeping without you.”

  Luke sort of laughed. “Why?” he asked. “Do you have nightmares or something?”

  “No.” I shook my head, chest aching. “Just self-­diagnosed separation issues.”

  “Well, that works out.” He smirked, and something in me burst when he winked. “Because so do I.”

  * * *

  It was late, past 2:00 a.m. when I snuck out, and no one was around to see me shut myself in the obsolete hallway phone booth that had been there for countless years. I ignored its phone, using my own. “Hello?” Mom answered, sounding sort of panicked. Clearly I’d woken her up. “Charlie?”

  “That’s me,” I said.

  She let out a long breath. “Is everything all right?”

  I shut my eyes and leaned back against the wall. “Yeah.”

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “Something like that,” I whispered, when I should’ve said, I need to tell you something.

  But I didn’t, so Mom did what she always did when one of us couldn’t sleep—­she started talking, as if we were at the dinner table. “Nicky mentioned that your Valentine’s parties are coming up,” she said. “Have you asked anyone yet?”

  “No.” I stared up at the ceiling. “Not yet.”

  “Well, why don’t you ask Sage?”

  Sage—­I needed to end this white-­wedding vision of us once and for all. “Because I don’t think she’d say yes,” I mumbled. “My competition’s pretty stiff.”

  Mom caught the hint and laughed, like she’d known all along. “He’s our romantic.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, relieved but then suddenly feeling my insides clench up again. I wondered if she thought of me as one too. Probably not, since I was with girls for five minutes and talked about them even less. The evidence wasn’t in my favor.

  But there’s this person, I shut my eyes. There’s this person I love with everything I’ve got. And right now he’s asleep in my bed, because my voice is the last thing he wants to hear before going to sleep, and my favorite thing on earth is waking up to see him smiling at me.

  We talked for about ten more minutes before the conversation wound down. “I need to tell you something,” finally slipped out when I sensed a goodbye coming.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  I opened my mouth, but said jack shit. I was distracted—­someone was twisting a corkscrew into my heart.

  “Charlie? Are you still there?”

  I forced myself to speak. “Does it matter to you?”

  “Does what matter to me?”

  I sighed. “Who I take to this thing?”

  She laughed. “Oh, Charlie, please don’t tell me it’s your economics teacher. Yes, she’s very pretty, but—­”

  “Mom,” I said. “I’m not kidding.”

  She stopped laughing. “Relax, honey. No, of course it doesn’t matter. Ask whatever girl you want. Your dad and I understand.”

  No, my eyes burned. You don’t.

  I wished she would just ask, ask instead of me out-­and-­out telling her. It would be so simple to be questioned and then respond with a yes. But Mom didn’t know to
do that, since again, the evidence wasn’t there. Which made things even worse.

  “Charlie, you should get some sleep,” I heard her say. “Midterms are coming up. I don’t want you getting run-­down and sick.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “Okay.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  And we hung up after that, but I didn’t move.

  I just sat there.

  Chapter 33

  Sage

  A week after taking the gold in Mortimer’s annual air hockey tournament, I reported to detention, because I’d thought it was a good idea to ignore my alarm and sleep through English on Friday. It was always in the CSC’s lecture hall from 7:00 to 9:00 p.m., and you were supposed to do your homework, but I couldn’t focus. It sucked being stuck in here. I’d still have three hours until curfew once detention ended, but I didn’t want to miss out on a Saturday night with my friends. Someday, they were going to be what I remembered most about Bexley.

  But of all the nights to be put in a time-­out, this was definitely the best one. The girls were at the dance, while Luke and Charlie were hitting the movies and then going on an “expedition” together. Back in December, they’d stolen a campus map from Admissions and had since been drawing big X’s over certain places, like the library and college counseling building (“There’s this great couch in the lounge,” I’d overheard Charlie say before that one). Apparently, they wanted to conquer the ropes course tonight.

  I slipped in and out of daydreams for the rest of detention. I was so beyond lost in my head that it felt like someone snapped me out of a trance when Dr. Latham announced we were free to leave, that detention was over. There was a text from Nick waiting for me: Meet me @ boathouse when you’re released. Something to show you!

  Excited, I biked back to Simmons to ditch my backpack before pedaling like my life depended on it in the direction of Perry Lake. The bright stars sprinkled across the sky seemed to light my way. But as I peeled off Ludlow Lane and onto Lake Road, the weirdness of it all registered. Why the boathouse? I wondered. Sure, the weather was still springlike, but it was strange. The boathouse was so out of the way, and there was literally nothing to do. Plus, we weren’t technically allowed there at night. I upped my pace.