by Emery Lee
The bathroom door opens, and then Devin enters the room, eir face pale as e sits down next to me.
“I—” E freezes, and we plunge into silence. I want to reassure em that e can talk to me, but I don’t know how. I don’t want to pressure em into speaking if e’s not ready.
Finally, I say, “I had the croquetas. They were great, like you said.”
And Devin smiles at me, but I know it’s forced, and God, I just want to reach into eir mind and figure out what’s wrong so I can fix it.
Finally, e says, “I’m sorry. I invited you here to have a good time and now I’m just—”
“Stop,” I say. “Stop torturing yourself. You haven’t done anything wrong, all right? I’m just worried about you.”
Devin swallows and twines eir hands together. “I don’t want to be a burden on you.”
“You’re not,” I say. “You’re my friend, and I want to help. Please talk to me.”
“I’ve just had a lot of anxiety since this morning.”
“About the party?” I ask.
E shrugs. “Yeah, and about you coming over. I guess I—well, I just don’t want you to have a bad opinion of me. And I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but it’s just a fear that I have, and I can’t make it go away.”
“I’d never have a bad opinion of you,” I say.
E laughs, but it sounds like e’s forcing it out of closed lungs. “You hated me when we met, didn’t you? And I know it’s my fault for anxiety-puking on you, but . . .”
“I didn’t know you back then,” I say, “but I know you now, and trust me, I think you’re amazing.”
Eir breathing sounds kind of shallow, and I feel like I should do something to calm em down, but I don’t know what. Honestly, I don’t even know what it is about this situation that’s stressing em out so much.
Finally, e looks at me and says, “It’s been a really long time since I felt close to anyone, and I—I don’t want to screw it up, you know? But I always feel like I am.”
I take eir hand in mine because I don’t know what else to say. The truth is, I didn’t realize how much I needed Devin until now, and it’s not just because of how messy things have been with Becca and Drew and the Diary. E’s just really important to me. E’s one of those people who just make every day brighter, every hardship a little less daunting. And the thought that e really thinks I’d hate em—that I would genuinely want nothing to do with em—is just so preposterous I don’t know how to phrase it.
Eir breathing seems to even out a little, but eir hand still feels a little shaky in mine.
“Devin,” I say finally, “you’re a really great friend. Honestly amazing, and I’m sorry you don’t see that, but I’ll do what I can to prove it to you.”
E squeezes my hand and smiles. “Thank you.”
I wrap my arms around em, let em rest eir head on my shoulder for a while. I hate knowing it’s all I can do, but I refuse to do nothing.
Wed, Jul 4, 5:46 p.m.
Hey, Drew. Sorry, I’m gonna be a little late. Something came up.
Delivered
It takes a little while for Devin to feel better, so we pull up in front of Drew’s house about twenty minutes after six, and I give Devin’s hand one last squeeze before stepping out.
Drew meets me out on the porch, his eyes narrowed. “It’s too late to make our reservation.”
I shrug. “Sorry. I told you, something came up.”
“With Devin?”
“Yes?”
Drew rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you—”
I put up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re the one who insisted I meet you at six even though I told you I wouldn’t be ready until seven, so if you’re mad that I’m late, maybe you should’ve listened to what I said to you instead of constantly putting your needs ahead of mine.”
“Seriously?” Drew snaps. “I told you six because the only reservation the restaurant had was at six thirty. What was I supposed to do?”
“Pick a different restaurant!” I scream. The street’s empty, but I can’t help but feel like a bunch of nosy neighbors are probably peeking through their blinds at us right now. “It shouldn’t be this hard for me to say no to something and for you to accommodate that.”
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I need to keep my cool. This is for the Diary. I shouldn’t be pushing Drew away.
“I was just trying to do something nice for you.”
I struggle to keep my voice level as I say, “No, you were trying to do something nice for us, but you fail to understand that us means I should have as much of a say as you do. You know, because when you’re dealing with a couple, two people are involved.”
“And by two people, you mean you and Devin, right?”
“What the hell, Drew?”
“I’m serious. You keep talking about us, but you only want to spend time with em. Even thinking my parents were getting divorced, you cared more about em than me!”
And suddenly I feel like the world has been thrown off its axis. Like someone flipped a switch and gravity’s been shut off for good. My voice is low as I say, “What do you mean thinking your parents were getting divorced?”
Drew pales for a moment, and it’s really all I need to turn around and start walking down the street without him.
“Noah, wait up!” he calls.
But I refuse. This is absolutely ridiculous.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Drew shouts, still following behind me. “They were getting divorced, but then they decided to stay together.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me that?” I scream, wheeling around to face him. He’s a hell of a lot taller than me, but right now, he looks small. “Did you know they were staying together the other night on the roof? Did you?”
He stares back at me for a moment without a response before giving a slow nod.
“You knew your parents’ relationship was fine, but you used it to guilt me into missing Devin’s party? How is that fair?”
I don’t even mention the fact that it was shitty for him to try to guilt me in the first place. I think this is more than shitty enough to make my point very clear.
“They’re not fine,” he says, but he’s deflating pretty fast, like he realizes he’s already lost the battle. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to lose you.”
“No, not okay,” I say. “And guess what, you just lost me because I’m not dating a goddamn liar.”
Drew shakes his head. “Oh yeah? And what about the Diary?”
My blood runs cold.
His eyes are narrowed as he says, “You need me, don’t you? To keep it afloat? What are you going to do if you break up with me?”
“How dare you!” I shout. “You’re seriously going to stand here and try to use the Diary against me? Seriously? I trusted you with that!”
Drew rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you trusted a lot of people with that!” he shouts back. “And I can’t believe I had to take a back seat in my own relationship to some bullshit blog.”
A voice in the back of my head says I need to listen to him, for the Diary.
But who am I kidding? The Diary’s dead. Half the world thinks it’s a plagiarized mess, and the other half doesn’t care either way because in all my attempts to “save” the Diary, I’ve strangled it until it’s just a ghost of what it was supposed to be. It’s not a trans haven anymore. It’s just a lie putting my shitty relationship on display to convince myself that I’m happy when I’ve never been more miserable.
There’s probably no way left to save the Diary, but even if there is, it doesn’t involve Drew. Hell, involving Drew was probably the biggest mistake I ever made.
“You offered to help. You don’t get to twist this around and make it about you.”
And Drew just crosses his arms, his brows pulled together. “Right, because it’s about you. Just like everything else. You can
be mad at me for lying, Noah, but the only reason I did it was because you cared more about the Diary than you cared about me. That’s why our relationship dissolved.”
“You don’t get to lay out the buts,” I say between ground teeth, which was not my best choice of words, but I’m too angry to care. “I suggest you get back in that house before I file a restraining order.”
Drew jerks back like I just slapped him across the face, and maybe I should have because he still looks like he wants to reach for me to pull me back to him. For a moment, it feels like we’re suspended in that freeze frame before the whole world rewinds to detail how I got to be in this situation because I don’t even understand how I let myself get into this situation.
Finally, he shakes his head, flashing me a dirty look before heading back to the house and slamming the door.
Wednesday, July 4
IsleofSunshine posted:
After talking to Noah and giving him the chance to make things right with the Meet Cute Diary, it seems abundantly clear that he is unapologetic for stealing people’s stories and will continue to do so. I’m blocking anyone who continues to follow or associate with that blog, and I recommend the rest of you do too.
Lapislady3 replied: Wow, thanks for warning us. This is awful.
Notyagirl replied: I could just tell he was bad news. Gross.
Undesireable27 replied: Ugh, I blocked him. Thanks for looking out for us!
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I walk a few blocks until I finally feel safe and call Devin to pick me up. E pulls up to the curb fifteen minutes later with a somber expression.
“What happened?”
I shrug. “Guess I’m single.”
And e prompts me to go on, but I don’t have the energy for it. I just really want to pretend none of it ever happened.
“Is the party still going on at your place?” I ask.
Devin nods. “Everyone’s just getting ready to start the fireworks. Do you want to join them? I can take you back to your place if you prefer that.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to go home and wallow in just how alone I really am. “I wanna go back to your place.”
So e takes me.
Devin’s mom gives me a sort of pitying look as we enter, and I can’t help but wonder how many of these total strangers know exactly why I’m back all of a sudden. Devin hands me a box of sparklers and I tear into it, fingers clawing hungrily at the cardboard until I finally rip it open and dig into the plastic.
Devin places a hand over mine and says, “You okay?”
I nod, shaking eir hand off. “Just get me a lighter.”
So we light some sparklers, and I try to get caught up in the bright lights and pretty colors.
Devin’s dad motions everyone out to the street so they can start lighting up some of the bigger ones. Eir mom passes me a glass of champagne, which I accept before following everyone out.
And, of course, the fireworks are beautiful, and I take a couple of pictures to post on Instagram, but my heart’s not really in it. Hell, I’m starting to wish I’d just locked myself in my closet and never come out.
As things start winding down, Devin places a hand on my shoulder and says, “You wanna go upstairs for a while?”
And I nod because I’m hoping the quiet will feel nice. And really, the idea of being alone with em for a little while sounds nice too.
Inside, Devin puts on some music, and I collapse onto eir bed.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Devin says.
I groan. “Drew lied to me, so I broke up with him. I can’t be around liars. I fucking hate them, and they ruin everything.”
“Oh.”
We sit in silence for a few moments before Devin says, “Noah, I have to be honest with you. I lied to you too.”
I freeze, the ache in my heart spreading. Actually, I feel like I’m about to bolt through the door, or worse, just pass out right there. Like really, how many shitty surprises can I go through in one night?
Instead, my mouth gapes as the word “What?” falls out of it.
Devin takes my hand, and I fight the urge to jerk it away. “You know how I bring you coffee every morning before work?”
Silence stretches out between us for a second before I manage to say, “Yes?”
“Well, I lied about having a discount. I knew you wouldn’t let me buy it for you if you knew I was actually paying for it, but the code doesn’t actually kick in until after two, and I know how tired you are without coffee—”
“Wait,” I say, cutting em off mid-sentence, “that’s what you lied about?”
Devin nods soberly.
“Nothing else? Just the coupon?”
E shrugs. “I don’t think there’s anything else.”
I laugh, letting go of eir hand. It’s weird because the laughter feels good but also bad, like I’m happy, but also sad. Or maybe happiness dropping down into the middle of a pool of sadness, the two mixing together until I laugh so hard tears spring to my eyes. I wipe them away while I can still convince myself that they’re happy tears and say, “Okay, that’s not really what I was talking about. I mean, you should’ve told me and at least let me chip in a little because I can’t even imagine how much money you’ve spent buying me coffee every morning—”
“It’s not really a big deal,” Devin says. “I like bringing you coffee.”
I smile, but I can feel the sadness tears trying to surface behind my eyes. “Drew lied to me about his parents getting divorced. Apparently he’s known for a while that they aren’t splitting up, but he’s been holding it over me to convince me to spend more time with him.”
“I’m sorry, Noah,” Devin says. “That’s awful.”
Yeah, it is, and it’s kind of nice to hear em say that because it tells me I’m not just overreacting about the whole thing. But I also hate the feeling that Devin’s pitying me, like I need to explain to em that I’m fine and it’s not a big deal.
Before I can ruin the moment, Devin says, “I don’t want to overstep here, but why were you dating him in the first place if he needed an excuse to get you to spend time with him?”
“It’s not like I didn’t hang out with Drew before he told me about his parents getting divorced. I’ve been enraptured with him since the moment we met. Hell, I’m the one who instigated everything, who steered us through the perfect relationship steps so everything could would work out for us.”
And maybe I wouldn’t have spent as much time with him over the past two weeks if I’d known, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t into him. I tried so hard to make Drew my world. It’s not my fault he got insecure anyway.
Though I guess Drew was right about one thing—our whole relationship was grounded in the Diary. It was why we’d started going out, and even while we were together, it was the thing I cared most about, the reason I kept steering us onward when we probably should’ve pulled over a long time ago. And the truth is, most of the time I’d spent with Drew over the past few weeks, I would’ve preferred to have spent with Devin.
But Drew was always so upset about everything that was happening with his parents, and I worried that if I didn’t make him happy, he’d break up with me and that would sabotage the Diary.
And now I’m sitting in Devin’s room, and Drew’s parents aren’t getting divorced, and I don’t know what’s going to come of the Diary, but I do know that my relationship with Drew isn’t going to change any of it. Even if this is just the Release stage—even if I just have to wait for Drew to make his grand, sweeping gesture to pull me back—it won’t save the Diary.
Which means the only thing keeping me loyal to Drew is Drew.
And I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason.
I look at Devin and feel heat rush to my face because I’d forgotten how beautiful eir eyes are, and how cute eir lips are, and I don’t want to think about that right now. I’m not into Devin. I can’t be.
“It’s okay for your feelings about Drew to change, you k
now?” Devin says. “I mean, just because you were into him before doesn’t mean you did something wrong by not wanting to be around him later.”
But I don’t want to hear that from Devin right now. I don’t want em to treat me like some kid in need of fortune cookie advice.
And more than anything, I don’t want to think about what comes after. I don’t want to think about letting Drew go and moving on and the feelings I might have to acknowledge if I do that here.
I roll my eyes and say, “Just drop it, okay? You don’t know anything about Drew or me, so just let it go.”
And Devin’s face drops, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up right now. I just need to think. I need to lock myself away and think.
“I need to go home,” I say.
I stand from the bed, already halfway to the door when Devin says, “Wait, at least let me drive you.”
And I nod because it’s getting kind of late, and the apartment’s pretty far.
I know I should apologize for snapping at em, maybe thank em for offering me the ride, but all I can think about is getting home. My heart weighs down my chest, and my body feels tense, like it’s waiting for an answer, and I know there’s really only one place to find it.
When I get home, Brian’s not there. Probably out enjoying the Fourth with his frat brothers since Maggie’s no longer in the picture. I race into my closet and dig around for the little shoebox where I keep my Best-Friend-Approved Datemate Qualities list. I’m positive I brought it with me. There’s no way in hell I’d let it go to California with my parents.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I finally find it, my fingers tracing the lid lovingly for a moment. Then I pull it open, yanking out the envelope where Becca filled in all the things I’d need in an ideal partner. I promised her I wouldn’t open it until I thought I’d found the one, but I need to make sure. I need to know if this is the Release, or really just the end, or something else entirely.
I unfold the small sheet of paper to read her list, which is about twenty items shorter than the one I wrote.
Must be someone you can talk to the same way you’d talk to me.
Someone who gets along with your family and welcomes you into theirs.
