“That’s the thing,” he says, leaning forward. “I think talking about our families will make this better. Seriously.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No, but I’m about as sure as it’s possible for me to be.”
I pause, watching him, keeping solid eye contact. Then I glance down. It’s just … it’s not like he’s been open at all about his family. I don’t know anything about them because of our deal. It feels unfair almost that he wants me to go first, to take all the risk. “Can you just let me think about it?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“But would you be okay with us keeping our rule going, if I decide I want that? Like, would it be okay with you if we never talk about our families?”
“I … I don’t know. I always thought…”
“What?”
“I assumed we would talk about everything, at some point. I didn’t realize you might never want that.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Right now, I think that’s what I want. Anyway. This is a problem we can deal with later, right?”
He smiles weakly. “Yeah, sure.”
After we’ve finished eating, Jason pays the bill, then returns to the table.
“No way,” I say. “Let’s split it.”
He smirks. “It’s already done.”
I stand and throw a twenty-dollar bill at him. It flutters down to the table.
He picks it up, then steps closer, so he towers over me. I freeze, and my breath hitches. His expression is so serious, and I have no idea what he’s doing. He rolls the cash up tightly, and sticks it into my front pocket. I go totally still and chew my lip. He taps it down, until only the top part is sticking out.
“Keep it,” he says.
“You sure?”
He nods once.
I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
We go outside. It’s started sprinkling rain. I still feel shitty. And Jason seems really clammed up, too.
He and I stand in the lot, facing each other, lit by the neon, in front of our cars. We’re getting gently rained on.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. We can pretend I didn’t, if you want.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I want to know what you’re thinking. But I already know. I’m never going to want to talk to you about my family. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Oh.”
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s like, whatever. Seriously, it’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound fine. Dude, talk to me.”
“What can I say, Matt?” he says. “I just found out this guy I really like doesn’t trust me. Why do you even hang out me with me if you think I’m capable of betraying you?”
“I don’t think that.”
“You do, though. You wouldn’t keep secrets from me if you did.”
“It’s not about keeping secrets.”
He hunches his shoulders, and the fight leaves him.
“Sure it is. Just tell me: What can I do to get you to trust me? Because anything you want, I’ll do it. I know I made a mistake with the scheme, and I’m really sorry. But I promise you, I’m not trying to get your secrets anymore. I’m seriously not. All I want is to get to know you.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do. Just give me time, maybe?”
He smiles. “Sure. Well, thanks for a really nice night. I always have such a good time with you.”
“No, thank you.”
He rubs my arm. “Are you sure you’re good?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you good?”
“Yeah, totally. I’m going to head out, then, okay?”
“Okay.”
He hugs me, but it feels nowhere near as good as the hug at the start of the date.
Oh boy. I really messed this up.
I want to cry.
He lets me go and then climbs into his car. I do the same with mine. I watch as he drives away.
And the moment he’s gone, and I know he can’t see me …
I break down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
So my first date was a disaster.
It’s totally mortifying. I can’t stop thinking about it and cringing. But maybe I should’ve expected this. I am, you know, myself. And maybe it’s possible my expectations were too high.
This isn’t a movie. In real life first dates don’t have to be perfect.
It’s just … I thought my first date with Jason would be. And it wasn’t. At all. That means something. I think it means something to him, too, as it’s been nearly a week, and I haven’t heard from him.
Maybe he’s just giving me space, though. I know I wasn’t the coolest. The hard part is I can see where he’s coming from. Still, I don’t think trusting him with info about my family is the best idea.
I truly don’t know what to do.
Ugh.
Boys, man. They’ll be the death of me.
I pull my pillow out from under me and quietly scream into it.
My phone chimes. I freak out. Every time in the past week that I’ve gotten a notification, I’ve had this feeling that something world-changing is about to happen. That it’s going to be Jason on the other end.
But so far, the messages have been from other people. Luke, Cassidy. I stare up at the ceiling. It’s not going to be him who messaged me.
The anticipation becomes too much, so I lift my phone.
And holy shit.
It’s from Jason. Finally.
Hey, want to see a movie later?
I swear I can hear harps playing. Or something.
I don’t even care what the movie is. I’d go see Transformers or some shit. I’d see anything with him.
I’m beaming as I type out my response:
Obviously, yes.
* * *
When we get to the movie theater, he opens the door for me. It’s nearly empty inside, and we join the small line in front of the ticket booth. This cinema is decorated in this cool art deco style. I glance around, making sure I don’t recognize anyone. Jason doesn’t seem to care, which strikes me as odd.
He walks up to the ticket booth and buys two tickets before I can protest. He makes his way back and hands one to me.
“Do you want snacks?” he asks.
“I mean, always.”
“Good answer.”
He reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, but I stop him. “I can get them, you’ve paid for a bunch. What do you want?”
“You should be able to guess.”
He grins.
“Come on, you know this, Mr. Movie Buff,” he says. “They’re the only acceptable movie snacks.”
“Popcorn and a Coke?”
“Bingo.”
“Um, you’re forgetting about Junior Mints,” I say.
“Wait, you actually like them? I thought they were just for grandpas?”
“That’s Werther’s. Junior Mints are the best. When was the last time you tried them?”
“I can’t even remember.”
“Want to?”
“Hell yeah.”
He grins.
I buy two medium combos, and a pack of Junior Mints, and we walk upstairs. A girl takes our tickets and rips them in half. As we walk down the hall, I see a poster for the movie we’re seeing: The Tower.
The poster shows two buff guys in front of a steel-blue background. Maybe fittingly, they’re both are totally blue steel–ing it. It sinks in that this is a gay movie, so people could assume that Jason and I are on a date. I think we pass as friends normally, but here, maybe not.
We enter the theater, and see that the trailers have already started. It’s playing one starring a straight white dude in his midforties who’s a secret agent or something. I dunno, it’s one of the dozens they make that are basically the same each year. One of the ones that might as well be called TESTOSTERONE. We make our way up the steps and sit in the very back row, a little to the side. The theater is may
be three-quarters full. The roof has this cool golden pattern on it, and the walls are red and black. There’s a reason I suggested this cinema; it’s by far the coolest in the city.
I open the Junior Mints and offer them to him, rattling them. He takes the box and tries a handful, then smiles.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“You’re right,” he says. “These are, like, way too good. Totally not just for grandpas.”
Success!
“Right?”
He pulls them away, so I have to reach over and grab the box to take them back. We wrestle for a second, then we remember we’re in public and settle, both smiling.
The movie is about this guy who interns at a new tech company, only to discover that the people he’s working for are incredibly evil.
The main actor is really cute, an ex-Disney star I think, and there’s a weird number of shots of him stressing about his life in a futuristic shower. The camera lingers on his newly crafted abs multiple times, which I appreciate. But I’m sitting next to Jason, and I’ve got a massive sugar high from the Junior Mints, so it’s hard to focus on the movie.
I turn and look at him. His profile is lit up by the screen. He looks like the lead from an old classic, like the ones who had to keep who they liked a secret to be leading men.
Jason catches me looking, then his hand brushes the back of my palm.
He moves a little, close enough that his leg is as close to mine as it can be without actually touching. Still staring forward, he offers his hand to me.
I take it.
* * *
The movie was great.
Under different circumstances, it might’ve even become a new favorite. But I straight-up don’t have the space to obsess over something new right now. We’re out of the theater now, on the street. It’s humid as hell, and the air is thick. Around us, people hurry by, trying to get back to air-conditioning as fast as possible.
I watch as a sleek black Mercedes drives past us.
Its windows are so dark I can’t see inside.
“Are you hungry?” asks Jason, pulling me back to earth.
“I mean, always.”
He smiles. “Me too. What do you feel like?”
I can’t help but think about that car. What if I know them? What if, right now, word about who I’m with is getting back to Dad?
“Waffle fries?” I suggest.
“Yes! Oh my God, we’re so doing this.”
His smile is infectious and makes my spiraling brain shut up. It’ll be fine.
He pulls out his phone and starts looking up restaurants.
“There’s one a five-minute walk away.”
“Perfect.”
He sets off down the street. I follow after him.
He turns his hand, and offers it to me.
I know we held hands during the whole movie. But this is different. This is out in public.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m not ready.”
He clenches his hand into a fist. “Hey, no worries. I get it.”
“I liked it during the movie, though!”
He smiles, but it’s obviously fake. We reach the restaurant. His eyes are still downcast.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
That’s so obviously not the case.
“Is this about the holding-hands thing? Because I—”
“It’s not just that,” he says. “Sorry, I’m being really moody.”
“That’s fine. What’s on your mind?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
“No, you can. Tell me.”
“Okay. Have you thought more about the family thing?”
“I mean, a little.”
“And? I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been a while, I was hoping maybe you’d changed your mind.”
Wait, is this why he didn’t message me for a week? So I’d change my mind?
“Oh, um,” I say. “I don’t think I’m going to change my mind. I’m pretty sure not talking to you about my family is the right call.”
“But for how long?”
“I don’t know. I’m really sorry, and I’m trying, I just…”
“Don’t trust me.”
I press a knuckle to my forehead. “It’s not that. I get how this must make you feel, and I’m really sorry. Can’t we just ignore this, like we used to?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
I think he just gave me an ultimatum.
“I’m trying my best,” he says. “But it’s really hard to date a guy who has this big section of his life totally off-limits to me. How are we supposed to get close if you’re never going to talk about real stuff?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know, either. That’s the problem.”
That lingers between us.
“I really like you,” I say. “You know that, right?”
“I do. But I also feel like I don’t really know you.”
“What? How can you think that?”
“I just do. You always say we’re such good friends, but you never tell me anything real about you. And anytime I try, you shut me down really hard.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I just…”
He looks really upset, and I want to do anything I can to stop it.
“I just feel like you don’t care about me,” he says. “It’s not a good feeling, man.”
I feel tears prickle. “I do care about you! So much!”
“Then talk to me! Open up. I know it’s hard, but I think this is worth it. Show me you trust me.”
“I can’t.”
His features harden.
“I’m not really hungry anymore,” he says. “I think I might head out.”
“Wait, really?”
“I’ll message you, okay?”
“Um, sure.”
He squeezes my arm, then ducks away. He’s walking, but I feel like he’s running away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hey there. I have something to ask you.
I’m lying diagonally across my bed, with my legs dangling over the edge, listening to a new playlist I made.
It’s the first time in days that Jason has messaged me.
I feel like he was waiting for me to message him.
And I wanted to. Obviously. But another part of me felt like he was being pretty unfair. He tried to trick me once. I think it’s fair for me to not completely trust him. I still get how he feels, but I can’t just make myself trust someone. Especially someone who has tried to trick me once before.
Then again, I do see his point. He doesn’t really know me, and I don’t really know him. Until we’re open with each other, we aren’t even that close. I know we have a lot in common, but it’s all more superficial things.
It’s enough to be friends, but if we want to go further than that, which I guess is the whole point of dating, then we need to go further.
It’s Monday night, and I’ve been avoiding all the homework I should be doing by listening to music. Mostly I’m listening to slightly sad songs, because I’m pretty sure Jason and I are going down in flames. And I don’t know how to stop it. I just can’t see myself being comfortable telling him about my family, and until I can, we can’t progress.
Still, every time I hear a song I really like, I want to message him about it. Like, I want him to know about the song “For Reasons Unknown,” which makes me think of the drive Luke took me on when he first got his car, where we drove by the beach and he played it way too loud. We sung along, and it was, like, a perfect night. That was before Luke got so into the family stuff.
Would it be so bad to tell him?
I want Jason to know these things about me.
I just don’t want to be stupid.
I type out a response:
What’s up?
Not much. I’ve just been thinking …
Oh yeah? About what?
/> The family thing. You’re right, I’ve been too intense. I’m really sorry, and I’m going to take a step back. I was out of line.
You’re totally fine, man. I get it. I’m sorry I’m so closed off.
No, don’t be! I know I need to prove to you I’m trustworthy. So I have this idea. How would you feel about getting out of the city for a weekend?
What do you mean?
I think you and I should go on a trip, just for a weekend. Thoughts?
I mean, I would love that.
I can’t, though. Dad would never let me.
What do you mean?
I was hoping you’d be a little more enthusiastic. I’ve already booked tickets. There was this deal I found, and I impulse bought them. My mom booked the hotel room for me, she thinks I’m going with Bri and Naomi.
You what???
Yeah man. You, me, and LA. This weekend. You in?
My mouth is hanging open.
I can’t let myself entertain this idea, though.
That’s really nice, but I’d never be allowed to go. Thanks though. You have no idea how fun that sounds to me.
Then find a way, man! I booked us this hotel:
He sends through a bunch of photos. It’s the Four Seasons.
So really nice.
Just think about it. We could see the actual Mulholland Drive! Plus, you, me, and this room. With total privacy. Think about it.
Is he implying what I think he is?
I read his message again and decide that, yeah, he totally is. I feel like any hotel room would do for that. I don’t know why we’d need to go to LA for that, other than it’s my favorite city. And it’d put a bunch of actual distance between us and our families.
That sounds so nice.
And think about it I do. I imagine Jason kissing me like he did at the baseball stadium, just, in a room.
We wouldn’t need to stop.
We could do whatever we wanted.
Where’d you get the money for this?
I work for my uncle as a mover, remember? I have cash to burn, and seriously, the flights were really cheap.
This is so much.
It’s, like, incredibly nice.
And I can’t stop thinking about what we’d do in a room together.
And you promise not to ask about my family when we’re away?
The Friend Scheme Page 20