by Emery Lee
“Noah?” my mom says, and my heart flutters a little at how natural it sounds now, as if she’s actually been taking the time to practice saying it. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” I say, making a spur-of-the-moment decision. “Everything’s great. I made a friend at the interview, and we’re hanging out tonight.”
My dad laughs. “What kind of friend?”
Here I go. “The boy kind,” I say.
There’s silence on the other end of the line. Well, vocal silence and a little bit of static. Then my mom says, “Is this a friend kind of boy or a boyfriend kind of a friend?”
“A little more of the second one, I think.”
The line’s quiet again. Then I hear my dad sigh, and it sounds like my mom is passing him the phone. “Noah,” he says, his voice gentle, “I know you’re a boy now, but the same reproductive rules still apply.”
“And I’m hanging up now. Bye, parents! Love you!”
I press the end call button before my dad can give me the make sure he wraps it with care lecture. It was bad enough the first time around.
Anyway, I have work to do. Considering this could potentially be the Consultation, I’ll be damned if I don’t look good.
Saturday, June 2
MeetCuteDiary posted:
There’s nothing like having plans for the weekend and having someone special to share them with. ;)
Uncharming replied: OMG, Noah, I’m so happy for you both!
Bubblebath replied: Noah!!! This is so cute!!!
Gen54life replied: This blog is MAGIC. You’re basically Cupid!
Load more comments . . .
The party starts at seven even though it’s not really dark yet. I leave a teasing post for my followers to add a little warm-up for the pictures I’ll post after the bonfire. Basically, I want to drive home that I really am the King of Love and let the troll quake in their boots as they watch me transcend the internet to become a love god. And it’s nice seeing all the positive comments, letting them ease me into my big date.
While I wait for Drew to pick me up, I text Becca the link to Drew’s blog even though she texted me earlier to let me know she’d be out of contact while she studies for a big exam. Then I sit down on the couch and scroll through it myself to get a feel for Drew’s personality. He doesn’t really make original posts, mostly just reblogging fandom stuff. I skip over all the Star Wars and DC discourse since I’ve never really been into either. It’s nice that we have different fandoms. It means we can share them with each other and find new passions.
I stop on the Diary post Drew reblogged detailing our relationship. He added a comment about how important we are to each other, which seems a little strong considering we just started fake-going-out, but the replies are all really supportive, so it’s probably fine.
Anyway, Drew shows up a few minutes later and texts me to come outside.
“You could’ve come up,” I say when I greet him on the street. His hair has that windswept kind of messy look and his clothes look carefully chosen even in the awkward yellow lighting near the street.
He grins. “Seems a little early to meet the brother, don’t you think?”
His friend lives pretty far out of the city. I can’t make out much as the lights of the city disappear behind us, but there’s a thin, dark outline of mountains in the distance and the stars are already starting to twinkle to life.
The house looks pretty normal—two stories nestled on a little hill with a stone walkway leading up the porch. Drew leads me around and into the backyard, where people are already hanging out on a gorgeous stone patio lined with little sparkling string lights. Ariana Grande floats down around us from the speakers embedded in the patio overhang.
The crew consists of eight people, most of them holding little red cups or cigarettes. Six mascs, two femmes, probably all cis judging by the jock vibe they’re giving off.
“Yo, Drew!”
The guy waving us over is really friendly looking, big muscles under a black T-shirt and man bun. “What’s up, man?”
Drew fist-bumps the guy. “Not a whole lot. Trying to get away from work.”
“Dude, you’re so fucking old.”
Drew bumps me with his shoulder and says, “This is Noah. Noah, this is Freddie. We graduated together.”
I freeze, my eyes widening. “Wait, how old are you?”
“Oh, shit!” Freddie says, turning back to the other partygoers. “Drew’s going to jail!”
My mind spins as the reality of my situation falls over me. I can’t believe in all the excitement, I hadn’t even thought to ask his age. I mean, shit, he could be thirty with three college degrees and two ex-wives. Okay, probably not the degrees.
Drew rolls his eyes and turns back to me. “Eighteen,” he says. “We graduated last month.”
I let out a breath. Drew’s only eighteen, and really, I’m sixteen, so it could be worse. It’s not even technically illegal. It’s basically the perfect line between dating a college boy and dating a high school boy.
So, old enough that I probably won’t clue Brian in on it, but nothing to worry about. Really, what I should be worried about is how we’re going to pull off this first date, which I’m only seventy-eight percent sure is actually the first date, but I can’t just pretend this is the second date when we don’t have a first date foundation. No, the stars may have aligned to get us this far, but if we’re going to keep hitting all the marks, I can’t just sit back and leave it up to chance.
Drew wraps an arm around my waist and says, “You want a drink or something?”
I can’t say I’m a big drinker. Actually, I can’t say I’ve been to a party that had alcohol before this summer. But I’m also aware that I’m at an event with a bunch of new college students, and it’s not like I’ve never seen a teen movie before. I know how this works—all of us stealing sips out of red Solo cups as we get lost in our youth as some poppy, feel-good music that’ll totally date us plays. I’m not gonna be the loser on our first date who ruins the mood by sitting in the corner fiddling his thumbs, and Drew’s probably hyperaware of our age gap now, so I need to make a statement, show him I’m mature and totally the type of guy who can fit in around his friends. “Sure.”
Drew goes to grab the drinks, and I sit down with the rest of the group. They sound like they’re fighting over some video game or something, so I just kind of sit around the edge and pretend I’m actually interested.
“You smoke, Noah?”
I look over at the guy next to me. He’s the only member of the group who isn’t white, so I’m tempted to scoot a little closer to him. I eye the bong in his lap, reminding myself that weed’s totally legal here, and it probably wouldn’t matter even if it wasn’t. I need to be cool Noah. Suave Noah. Second-date-material Noah.
“Uh, no, not really,” I say. Smooth. I consider taking a swing at it anyway. Maybe it’ll be one of those scenes where the nerdy kid goes, “Ah, what the hell!” then I take a long drag, and suddenly everyone’s cheering me on as I mattress surf right off the roof.
Drew plops down next to me and passes me a plastic cup. I have no idea what’s in it, but I sip it anyway, fighting past the terrible taste.
“Noah’s from Florida,” Drew says.
One of the nameless guys turns to me and says, “Shit, that’s, like, gun country isn’t it?”
“I’m from Miami,” I say. “I only know like three people who own a gun.”
One of the girls leans toward me, her face flushed like she’d been drinking a bit too long. “Wow, you must go to the beach like every day. I wish I could be that tan.”
I press my lips together because I honestly just don’t know how to respond.
Drew laughs, and I can’t tell if he thinks she’s funny or just acknowledges what a ridiculous thing that was to say, and I wonder if I should say something about how uncomfortable the whole thing is. Then he says, “So, bonfire?”
Freddie stretches and says, “Eh, might as
well. Jeff, go get the matches.”
A scrawny kid with dark hair rolls his eyes before hopping to his feet and scurrying into the house.
I wouldn’t have guessed it from the front, but Freddie’s yard is massive, and the firepit sits somewhere near the middle. We all crowd around it—which probably isn’t the safest since I’m not sure how much everyone’s been drinking—and Jeff comes jogging back with a pack of matches.
Drew wraps his arm around my waist again, pulling me to him. It’s almost completely dark now, tiny stars blinking to life above us. The crowd cheers as Freddie tosses the match, and the pit lights up.
The heat startles me, and I jerk a step back, a smile already forming on my face at the solidness of Drew behind me.
He leans into me and asks, “Wanna take a selfie?”
I nod as he whips out his Galaxy and turns me around so the bonfire’s behind us. The flames amplify the shadows on our faces, but his camera still manages to filter the light just right. I smile as his finger hovers over the button, and just as he’s about to click it, his face turns, his lips catching mine.
He pulls away; my cheeks are flushed red. He looks down at his phone to inspect the picture. “Not bad,” he says, holding it up for me to see.
I mean, you can only see like a third of my face because of the angle of his head, but as far as cute-ass bonfire shots go, it’s definitely in the top ten.
“Send that to me,” I say. “I wanna post it on the Diary.”
He laughs, sticking his phone back in his pocket. “Fine, but no more Diary talk. You finished work for the night, so let’s have some fun.”
I smile. “I’m surprisingly okay with that.”
I don’t know how many drinks I have, but Sunday morning, I meet Drew at the bookstore as planned, except I literally feel like death. I had to rest my head against the cool window on the drive over just to keep from heaving all over Brian’s car, and now I’m standing with my head against the counter to stop the pounding.
It really was a great night, though. I didn’t keep track of how many times Drew and I kissed, but it was definitely more than the number of drinks I had. It was a little weird being around his friends since they’re a bit older and overwhelmingly white, but after an hour or so, everyone started to blur together into this big, harmonious group. Or maybe I was just drunk. I don’t really know.
“Noah?”
“Mmmmm.”
I jerk away as Drew’s hand creeps along my back. I hadn’t realized he was so close.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Just a headache.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and the sound feels like a sledgehammer against the inside of my skull. I rest my head against his shoulder, the smell of his cologne striking me like a slap to the face, but it’s fine. It’s the good kind of pain.
He runs a hand along my back. “So, maybe next time you should sit out the drinking portion of the night.”
I giggle. While it started out as my attempt to keep up with Drew and his friends, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I was actually having a ton of fun. Still, it’s nice to hear him say that. Like maybe trying to keep up with him is ridiculous because he doesn’t care if I drink or smoke or sit in a corner fiddling my thumbs.
“It was fun,” I say. “I think I just—well, I may have gone a little further than I should have.”
“Is that your way of asking me to keep an eye on you moving forward?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t mind having you to protect me.”
“Did you see my post?” Drew asks, but I have to admit I haven’t. It’s not like I was particularly literate stumbling home and collapsing onto my bed last night.
I pull out my phone to scroll through his blog. It’s basically all the same post on repeat since he reblogged it like thirty times replying to comments. It’s the picture of us in front of the bonfire with the comment “that moment when you make things official.”
“Wait,” I say. “We’re official?”
He smirks. “Well, official fake boyfriends. I hope you don’t mind me taking the creative liberty on the story. I just figured since people kept asking for more details, we should give them what they want, right? That’s the first post I’ve ever made that got more than ten notes, so I’d say I did pretty well.”
That’s definitely an understatement since the post has almost a thousand notes now, and I haven’t even reblogged it from the official Diary account. I guess some fans with enough followers really gave the post traction, which can be a good thing as long as it doesn’t get too out of hand.
“You should tell me first next time,” I say. “I mean, I want to be able to control the narrative we’re painting.”
“Yeah, totally, I get it,” Drew says as he lays out a stack of bookmarks. “I guess I just got caught up in the moment, you know? It’s not every day I get to be a part of something this cool, and I had a ton of fun last night.”
I smile, warmth filling me. I remind myself that this is good, not just for the Diary but for our long-term relationship. After all, Drew’s the one who made us fake-official, which might mean he’s willing to make us real-official, like maybe he’s just as into me as I am into him.
“Drew!” Amy shouts, sending another wave of pain coursing through my head. “If you don’t get your ass back to work, I swear to God!”
“Sorry, Aunt Amy,” Drew tosses back, scooting just far enough away from me that it looks like he actually has a task in mind. He drops his voice low and says, “She’s really been on my ass lately. She hasn’t been able to pull in any extra help, and I guess that’s my problem now.”
I giggle, but the truth is I kind of regret coming to the shop. Not that I don’t love the idea of spending my Sunday with Drew, but my head is splitting open, and I kind of just want to crawl into bed for another thousand years.
“Can you come by my apartment later?” I ask.
Drew smiles. “Absolutely. Once my shift is over, I’m there.”
“Then I should probably head home,” I say, already reaching for my phone to call a ride. Considering I’m only paying for a one-way trip, my parents definitely can’t call this an abuse of credit card privileges. I just have to make sure to leave out the too-hungover-to-function part when I explain the trip.
“Before you go,” Drew says, sliding back over to me and wrapping an arm around my waist. “You know, for the Diary.”
And then his lips are against mine, my body melting against his side and my head spinning, but this time in the good way.
Step 5: The Trip (aka The Fall Part 1)
It’s the moment the breath slips out of you for the first time and you realize that this person is important to you.
Sunday, June 3
DebunkingMCD posted:
You guys can’t be serious? This twelve-year-old gets a boyfriend, and suddenly facts don’t matter to you? Literally none of this makes sense. I’ll post more links later.
Alwaysforever replied: You’re such a killjoy. Grow up!
D.ashing replied: I don’t know. Just because it’s unlikely doesn’t mean it’s not true, right?
Dontdrinkthebeanwater replied: OMG, now you’re just being annoying. The Diary’s real. Get OVER it.
Load more comments . . .
Brian’s really branched out since this whole learning-to-cook thing took off, and I wake up from a sloppy midday nap to the smell of curry drifting over me. Curry actually sounds like a great idea since I haven’t eaten all day and only stumble out of the closet just after four, and really, I don’t even have to worry about him adding too many spices or anything since he’s only learning how to cook to live up to Maggie’s expectations.
As I step into the living room—hobbling a bit cause I’m still kind of out of it—Brian raises an eyebrow. I take a seat on one of the bar stools, and Brian says, “I thought you were supposed to be out looking for a job.”
I groan, resting my head on the counter. Through the h
angover haze, I’d mostly forgotten about that. “I didn’t get very far.”
He shakes his head a little as he turns the stove off. “Do I want to know why?”
I shrug. “Probably not. Honestly, I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to find a job anyway.”
“Is this your way of asking me to get you that job at the summer camp?”
I actually hadn’t really thought about Brian’s offer since he first mentioned it, but now that he’s bringing it up again, it sounds like a pretty good idea. I mean, I’ll have my weekends free, and I won’t have to worry about transportation since Brian can drive me.
“Can you?” I ask.
He gives me one of those I knew it would come to this looks and says, “Yeah, probably. It would’ve been easier if you’d said something sooner, since we’re already halfway through orientation, but I can try.”
I’m kind of impressed he made it that easy considering I turned him down a week ago.
Then he turns to me, a wooden spoon pointed in my direction. “But anything you fuck up reflects on me, so you better be flawless, got it?”
That’s the response I’d been expecting. “I will,” I say. “Clean slate. Fresh start. I got you.”
Brian rolls his eyes, getting back to dinner.
“I invited Drew over later,” I say.
“Is that your date from the other night?”
I nod. I acknowledge that Brian’s only really getting half the story since he doesn’t know about Drew and me being not entirely real, but it’s not important. We’ll fall into place, and after the bonfire, I find it hard to believe he hasn’t started developing feelings for me yet. After all, we’ve been toying around the Trip for some time now, so it’s only a matter of time before we hit that out of the park too.
“Look, I don’t want to be the bad guy here—” he starts.
“Never stopped you before . . .”
