by Emery Lee
I think a part of me hoped our last week together would be enough to make my feelings waver. You know, being face-to-face with my own mortality, I’d realize relationships are pointless, and I’m better off just finding a random hookup in California.
Instead, my feelings have only gotten stronger, and every time I look at em, I feel like my heart is gonna tear right out of my chest.
And it’s not like I didn’t have any opportunities to tell em before today. Between cleaning and prepping in the mornings and lunch, I’ve basically had an infinite number of chances, but every time I opened my mouth, I ended up spouting any random garbage that brought me away from my feelings. And yeah, now today’s my last chance, and there’s an ever-increasing possibility I’ll screw this up too.
I drop my gift off in the office before heading to the rehearsal hall. I’m tired as hell because I haven’t had my coffee yet, but I wanted to get in before Devin. I spent the night googling up some cute Christmas decorations—because even with Devin’s tutorial, I knew there was no way I’d be able to draw something halfway decent on my own—and I want to hang them up before e gets in.
Once I locate the little tape dispenser, I get to work sticking little paper snowflakes to the windows and little wannabe ornaments against the mirror. It’s all pretty ridiculous, honestly, since it’s not actually Christmas and we’re just gonna have to spend time cleaning it all up later, but I know it’ll make Devin smile, and if this is our last day together, I don’t want to miss out on my chance to see it.
Devin shows up just as I’m putting up the last ornament. E looks up at me, eyes wide, and I realize e’s wearing makeup again. Or, at least, e would be if it wasn’t streaming down eir face in a rush of tears.
“Devin?” I say. “What happened? Are you okay?”
And for a moment I have a sinking feeling in my stomach telling me that I forgot e’s Jewish or something and this is all horribly inappropriate.
Then e laughs, wiping a hand across eir face and only making the makeup fiasco worse. “I just—I can’t believe this is the last day, you know? I’m gonna miss coming here every day, and all those kids.”
I smile because I’m gonna miss it all too, but it still kind of hurts that e didn’t mention missing me.
I accept my free coffee and say, “You’ll be back next year, won’t you?”
E sighs. “I don’t know. My dad’s looking at a possible promotion, and if he gets it, we probably won’t be staying in Denver.”
My heart aches harder at that. Where is e gonna go next? New York? Maine? It’s already bad enough just knowing I’ll be going to California, but this might really be it.
“Anyway,” Devin says, forcing a smile onto eir face. “Today is a good day, and I want it to be happy. No tears.”
I smile. That’s such a Devin thing to say.
Then eir eyes widen again like e’s just finally noticing the work I put up. A slow smile creeps across eir face as e says, “Oh my God, Noah, did you do all this?”
I shrug, but really I want to bow or something because I got out of bed early for this.
Devin turns to me, tears building in eir eyes again, but e just smiles, a smile so bright it reminds me exactly why it was worth working through my pre-coffee haze. “It’s beautiful.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s just some paper and computer ink.”
But I’m glad e thinks it’s beautiful. Now we both have something gorgeous to brighten our final day of work.
Our Christmas in July party is exactly how you’d picture a stereotypical office Christmas party. A tall, tacky Christmas tree in the corner that someone took the time to decorate with handmade ornaments from the kids, a long table of food from trays of store-bought cookies to someone’s macaroni salad, elderly white people dressed in horrifying Christmas sweaters.
Everyone just kind of floats around the room mingling or snacking. Unsurprisingly, Brian looks perfectly at home among the older crowd, while I’m mostly bouncing on my heels as I wait for Georgette to call everyone’s names to give out their Secret Santa presents. Honestly, it feels like I’m standing in a retirement center, from the slow Christmas tunes that are probably a couple centuries old to the fancy little finger sandwiches. I can’t imagine any of these people are fun at parties. You know, real ones.
Georgette moves us all on to Secret Santa, and she starts calling names. I don’t actually know if there’s some method going on here, but she starts with some girl named Margaret and moves on to Billy, and I really hadn’t realized there were so many people at camp I don’t even recognize. I mean, Bev is in the corner talking to Brian about something that probably only old people find funny, and that guy Frank from the sleepaway camp is here too, but the other counselors are all pretty much strangers, except for Devin, who sits awkwardly with eir hands tightly knotted.
And with each name that goes by, I feel my heart rise in my chest just a little more as I wait for the moment that’ll sweep us both together.
Georgette says, “Holly, you’re next.”
And my heart starts pounding. Like come on already. Give the people what they want!
Finally, when she call’s Devin’s name, e quickly grabs eir present. E turns around, and eir eyes lock onto mine, and it feels like the world is slowing down, like this is the moment when everything comes to light and we share a heartfelt kiss as the credits roll.
And then e passes it off to some girl I don’t know, and they share a couple laughs but I feel my stomach sink. So much for our romantic gift exchange. I just want this party to end, like yesterday.
My present’s from one of the volunteers, and she passes me the gift without really looking at me. It’s a Target gift card, which is fair since my whole list was just places to buy me gift cards from, and my heart isn’t in it anyway. I’m just robotically going through the motions.
My name gets called, and I scramble to grab the present, and I already know Devin knows I got em because mine is the last gift, and I feel like a loser as I pass it to em and say, “Happy Christmas in July or whatever.”
My heart aches, my chest rolling, but once the gift is out of my hands, a bit of relief rushes me. My fate is sealed.
Devin smirks, grabbing the bag from me and saying, “That’s merry Christmas in July to you.” E flashes me the cutest smile ever. “And thank you.”
I nod, but God, my heart is having a field day in my chest.
Everyone’s already moving on from the gift exchange as Devin pulls the tissue paper out of the bag. I’m kind of annoyed that they’re all moving on when Devin hasn’t even gotten to open the gift yet, but I’m glad their eyes are off us, like this moment is just ours to share. Finally, Devin grabs the gift, yanking it out and unfolding it to reveal a black T-shirt with the words Got Milk? on it.
Eir eyes widen. “Is this a milk T-shirt?”
And my first instinct is to stammer out, “I was just thinking about what you said, you know, about the milk and—”
And I feel like the world’s biggest dork for taking Brian’s advice and going for an inside joke. But after days of looking for the perfect present, I’d all but given up until I’d stumbled upon the T-shirt, and then all I could think about was em saying that e was two percent boy.
Devin laughs and says, “It’s amazing! I love it!”
I smile. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, you don’t have to pretend to like it that much.”
E bumps my shoulder. “No, really, I mean it. I love personal gifts, and this is just so thoughtful. I love it.”
My heart flutters, and e’s giving me that dimpled smile, and God, I want to kiss em, but I turn my face away instead.
Then Devin says, “I got something for you too.”
My eyes shoot up, face warm. “Wait, what?”
“I mean, I know I’m not your Secret Santa or anything, but you’ve been the most amazing friend this summer, and I really wan
ted to give you something,” e says.
I nod, but e’s already reaching for a small package and passing it to me. It’s wrapped in little penguin wrapping paper, their big blue eyes staring up at me as I tear the little fuckers apart.
And my fingers freeze. It’s a notebook. Well, I guess it’s more like a journal. It’s got a cloth cover and college-ruled pages, and little doodle-like art on the corner of each page—coffee cups, kayaks, sparklers, boba tea.
“I made it for you,” Devin says, my eyes floating up to meet eir face. “I mean, I thought you might want something to write in. You know, something other than the Diary. So you could focus on your craft. Is it okay?”
Okay? I spent the past week trying to find the perfect gift for Devin, and now e’s outdone me with a super thoughtful, handmade gift that somehow seems to sum up our entire relationship in a bunch of adorable little doodles. And e wasn’t even my Secret Santa.
I look up at em and find em staring back at me. I hate that we’re only inches apart, but it feels like miles.
And soon it will be.
I sigh, my palms sweaty. I feel vaguely nauseous as I say, “I want to talk to you about something. Is that okay?”
And Devin’s eyes are wide, but e nods anyway.
I take eir hand and pull em out of the office. I don’t want everyone at camp listening to me spill my guts. And yeah, okay, they probably aren’t paying any attention to us anyway, but it makes me feel better putting some space between us and them. Or maybe it just feels nice to walk, to have some time between this moment and what I know comes next.
And, of course, as we step out into the hallway, I look up and see a fancy little piece of mistletoe hanging just over the door. Whoever the asshole is who put it there . . .
“What do you want to talk to me about?” Devin asks.
I try to think of ways to stall, anything to give me a chance to catch my breath. And then I just hear myself say, “I like you.”
Devin smirks. “I’d hope so. We’ve worked together all summer.”
I roll my eyes. “No, like, I’m attracted to you.”
Devin’s eyes widen, and I’m worried e’s going to run away or start choking or something, but e just tucks the shirt under eir arm and says, “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry. I know how awkward this must be.”
E smiles. “It’s really flattering, actually.”
“Well, I’m glad, I guess,” I say. “I guess I was wondering if you might feel the same way.”
“I haven’t really thought about you that way,” Devin says, and I feel my heart drop out of my chest. This feels like an excellent time to change my name and move to Serbia.
Then e says, “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt attraction for anyone.”
I pause, my head whipping up. “I thought you said you were into guys.”
“I am. Only romantically, though.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“You’re saying what?”
“That I’m romantically into you!”
And yes, I did just scream that very loudly, and I’m sure everyone in the office is marveling at what a total loser I am. Actually, this will probably go down as one of those infamous “Christmas Party” stories. Oh my God! Do you guys remember that time Noah shouted his love to someone who totally rejected him? Hilarious!
Devin’s mouth gapes, a blush rising in eir cheeks, but e doesn’t say anything, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say at this point. I feel like I should reassure em, tell em it’s totally okay that e doesn’t feel the same.
And then e says, “Wait, really?”
I shrug. “Yeah. It’s not really that weird.”
E shakes eir head. “No, for me it is. Say it again.”
I just raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Just do it, please. I need to make sure I heard you right.”
God, of all the things I took Devin for, cruel isn’t one of them, but I oblige anyway. “Devin, I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. Hell, I’d even go so far as to say I’m in love with you. I just—I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I needed you to know how I feel before camp ends.”
And I don’t know what I’m expecting at this point, but it’s certainly not for tears to start slipping down Devin’s cheeks, eir eyes wide as e says, “I love you too.”
“You—wait, what?”
E shrugs. “I mean, I thought I was totally obvious. I figured that was why you bailed on the party—because you didn’t want your boyfriend to see how into you I was.”
I shake my head because I feel like e’s just started speaking Vulcan. “You’ve been into me all this time?”
E nods. “Yeah, I guess I have.”
And I cross the space between us in a second, pulling eir face to mine, our lips pressed together. My nose bumps into eirs, our chins smooshed together.
And e reels back, eyes wide, breath ragged.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
E nods, but I might as well have punched em in the chest. Eir cheeks are flushed, eir hands shaky. “I’m sorry,” e chokes out. “It’s just—I’ve never kissed anyone before and I—”
I take eir hand in mine, only to find I’m a little shaky myself. I rub my thumb over eir knuckles. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first.”
Devin laughs, squeezing my hand. “It’s okay. You just—you caught me off guard. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t fair for me to kiss you when you weren’t ready.”
I let go of eir hand, taking a step back. E still looks a little ragged, like the wind just blew through and shook us both to our cores.
Finally, e smiles, eir cheeks burning red, and says, “I’m ready now, though.”
And I smile back because I can’t even count the number of hours I’ve spent wishing I could kiss em. But now I can.
And so I do.
I try to wrap my arms around eir neck, but they aren’t long enough, so they just dangle awkwardly off eir shoulders, which I might feel worse about if Devin’s arms actually had a mission. Instead, one hand creeps awkwardly against my arm while the other stays limp at eir side. I laugh against eir mouth, and e laughs back, our giggles getting mixed together in a rush of breath and warm faces.
When we finally pull apart, all I want to do is pull em back to me, but I don’t. I twine our fingers together and say, “Thank you for the present. I just realized I hadn’t said that yet.”
Devin smiles wide enough to get my head spinning. Then e says, “You’re welcome. We should go back to the party, yes?”
And I nod because at least once we’re inside, I can get lost in our time together and try to forget that in three weeks, I’ll be on the road to California and away from em again.
Step 11: The Gesture
It’s the world-crushing move to save the relationship.
Saturday, July 28
Howdyheather posted:
So, is the Meet Cute Diary officially over? There haven’t been any new posts in a month. I guess the mod ran away after the leaked story thing came out? Anyone have any new recommendations?
Jjstiles replied: It’s so heartbreaking. All over one story too. I loved that blog!
Bimeariver replied: I don’t have any recs. The MCD really was one of a kind.
Umbrellaella replied: I’m not giving up yet. Maybe it’s just a hiatus?
“Wait, e did what?”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t mind explaining the story again. My parents are settling in at the new house, and there’s a ton of noise on the other end as they move everything in, but I wanted to call my mom and catch up a bit before Devin gets here.
I’m in the kitchen with Brian helping him make curry when there’s a knock on the door, and my heart skips a beat.
“Sorry, Mom, gotta go. I love you!”
I hang up, tucking my phone into one of my massive back pockets.
Devin smiles at me as I open the door, quickly extending eir h
and and holding out a Thai milk tea with boba. I grin. I mean, we’ve basically spent every day together since camp, but since I can actually sleep in now because we usually meet up after lunch, e’s taken to bringing me other gifts besides coffee.
“Thanks,” I say, pulling em in for a quick kiss. E melts into it, like every kiss has loosened em up for me just a little bit more until now it just feels buttery and sweet between us.
“Close the door!” Brian calls.
Devin pulls back, a blush in eir cheeks. “Whoops.”
E steps inside and I close the door behind em, gesturing em over to join us in the kitchen. One good thing about dating Devin is I don’t have to worry about introducing em to Brian since they technically knew each other before I came into the picture. Things might be a little different when my parents come at the end of the summer, but for now, the awkwardness is totally avoidable, and I’m grateful.
Well, really, I guess there’s actually a pretty long list of reasons why it’s good that I’m dating Devin—e doesn’t pressure me into doing things I hate, e doesn’t guilt me for expressing my own opinions, we actually have things in common . . .
Really, the only good thing that came out of dating Drew was setting me up to be a better boyfriend to Devin, and maybe a little nicer to myself.
“What’re you guys making?” Devin asks.
“Curry. You want some?” Brian says.
Devin winces. “Spicy and I don’t really mix.”
I laugh. “What kind of Cuban are you?”
Devin grins. “The kind with really bad anxiety and a weak stomach.”
Which is fair, though Devin’s been handling eir anxiety pretty well lately. I don’t know if it’s getting a vacation and not having to worry about work anymore or the fact that it’s mostly just been the two of us hanging out being all adorable and private, or maybe a mix of both. Either way, e seems to be light on the panic attacks lately, and it’s kind of nice to think I may actually be helping em through it.
