If We Were Us

by K. L. Walther

Charlie blushed and joined his petit ami. Luke gave him a quick kiss and then grinned when Charlie hid his face in Luke’s neck and mumbled something. I kept quiet, letting them have a moment. If I did say so myself, I was the best third wheel ever.

  But it kind of sucked.

  “You too,” Luke replied, then turned to me and gestured to the big white sheet tacked up on my wall. “So, Netflix?”

  I nodded and moved to set up our show. Back in October, Nick had announced that my laptop screen wasn’t cutting it anymore for our movies. “Then I guess we’ll have to switch to your room,” I’d replied. “I can’t get a TV.” I wrinkled my nose. “Prefect privilege.”

  “But I like yours better,” he said. “Your bed is better…” He coughed. “You know, more comfortable, with all your fluffy pillows and stuff…”

  The next week, he’d shown up with a cardboard box. Inside were the makings of a movie theater. “Where did you even get that?” I asked, watching as he hooked up the projector. It wasn’t ancient-­looking, but wasn’t brand new either.

  “Granddad and Nana,” he replied. “They’re still decluttering. Nana read some book about it and is obsessed with purging.”

  We’d watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before that night, but right now, with Luke and Charlie, I couldn’t pay attention to the crime family drama they’d chosen. My mind instead rewound itself to The Holiday. Nick had come over one day during winter break, and we’d watched it again after baking brownies together, the talking and joking somehow so easy again. “You know Iris’s cottage isn’t even real,” he said through a forkful of brownie. “The facade is total CGI.”

  I’d given him a look, and replied in my best Southern drawl: “‘You’re shittin’ me, right?’”

  Nick cracked up at the Sweet Home Alabama line. It always came back to Sweet Home Alabama for us. “‘No,’” he quoted back. “‘I’m not shitting you.’” He grinned, dimple and all. “Well, a little. It’s not CGI, but production did build it for the movie. All the interior shots were filmed on a soundstage in Culver City.”

  “Way to ruin the fantasy,” I joked, but my voice came out breathy—­my heart suddenly beating so fast.

  Nick noticed, breaking our eye contact to glance down at the already half-­eaten brownies. “We should make another batch tomorrow,” he said, pointing at the pan. “But take them out early, so they’re gooey in the middle.”

  “Okay, yeah.” I nodded quickly. “Good idea.”

  And then I smiled.

  He was coming over again.

  * * *

  By the time the TV show ended, it was dark outside and Luke had fallen asleep with his head against Charlie’s shoulder. “Look at him,” Charlie said softly, so softly that I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or himself. “He’s so cute.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, and snapped a photo. “Absolutely adorable.”

  “I just had no idea,” he continued in a near-­whisper, like he hadn’t heard me. “I had no idea it was even possible to feel this way about a person…”

  His words almost knocked the wind out of me. Who are you? I almost asked, looking at him. I’d never heard Charlie sound this romantic—­this invested. My heart twisted, thinking of Nick again. I admired my projector and white sheet, framed with twinkly lights. He’d built me a movie theater, in my dorm room. Had I even said thank you? “This is so great!” I remembered gushing, but an actual thank you?

  Emma would’ve said thank you.

  She deserves him, I thought sadly. I don’t, and might not even someday.

  “Hey, Sage,” Charlie said before my eyes could completely well up. His voice was still quiet. “Will you send me that picture?”

  * * *

  Luke left first, moaning and groaning about yet another group project. “It just won’t get done,” he said as Charlie buttoned up his peacoat for him, then affectionately smoothed its sleeves. “I gave everyone a task, but if I don’t go over the Google Doc tonight, who knows what we’ll have to turn in tomorrow…”

  I laughed. “You’re a mad dictator.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I delegate.”

  Charlie fake-­coughed. “Mad dictator.”

  Luke gave us the finger on the way out.

  “Sneak me downstairs?” Charlie asked a while later, and once safely outside, we joked about Luke probably hunched over his MacBook and grumbling.

  “No, I’ve seen him in action,” Charlie said. “If he doesn’t like what someone’s done, he changes it. He explains why, but he still changes it. Total power move. And by the end of the explanation, they apologize to him.” We walked across the yard, toward Belmont Way. “It’s really impressive.”

  “Didn’t you guys once do an assignment together?” I said, looping my arm through his. It was freezing tonight. “In the fall?”

  “Uh-­huh.” Charlie nodded. “But there was none of that. We literally wrote it together.”

  “Well, that’s because you’re top of the class.” I zapped his side. “And possibly because he was already hypnotized by you.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Charlie said. “And that’s the best part.” He sighed. “Luke loves me, but he’s not hypnotized by me.” His eyes were crinkling in the streetlight’s glow. “You know what I mean?”

  I smiled and squeezed his arm. “Yeah, I get you…” I said at the same time I heard footsteps and a familiar voice calling out: “Are you guys gonna put an announcement in The Bexleyan?”

  A beat later, Nick became visible in the lamplight. I had no idea where he was coming from or where he was going, but I knew what he thought. Charlie and me walking alone, my arm crooked through his, smiling at each other…

  “The newspaper?” Charlie asked. “What are you talking about?”

  His twin gestured at us, and I quickly unlocked our arms. “You and Sage,” he said. “It’s happened. Finally. The wait is over. You guys are…” He hesitated. “Together.”

  “No, we’re not,” I said the second I felt Charlie stiffen. “We’re friends, Nick. That’s it.”

  Nick released a frustrated sigh, a sigh that sounded like he’d been suppressing it for ages. “You’re unbelievable. Both of you.”

  My brows knitted together. Where was this coming from? What about winter break? I wondered. What about The Holiday, and the barely baked brownies? Things were good, weren’t they?

  And he had Emma. Nice, perfect Emma.

  “Because this is ridiculous,” he continued. “You both aren’t with anybody, and it’s obvious you’re totally head over heels for each other.” He took a deep breath. “Just be together already. I’m sick of this bullshit, and so is everyone else.”

  We all stood there in shocked silence. “Nick…” I breathed, mind racing for something to say. But before any brainstorms struck, Charlie stepped in.

  “Let’s go for a walk, Nick.”

  “What?”

  “A walk,” Charlie repeated. “You and me.” He took my hand, and I realized what was happening when he squeezed it. I squeezed back as hard as I could.

  “I have homework, Charlie,” Nick replied. “I’m going back to Mort.”

  “Then I’ll walk you back, but…um, we need to talk.”

  Nick’s brows furrowed, but he nodded his head toward their route home.

  Charlie took another deep breath, and when he tried to disentangle his hand from mine, I held on tight. “You’re perfect, Charlie,” I whispered, feeling him quake with nerves. “Absolutely perfect, and I love you. Always.”

  Chapter 26

  Charlie

  It took a lot not to run back to Sage and ask her to come with us. Nick and I were walking down Belmont Way, but I didn’t really know how to start—­afraid that if I opened my mouth, my insides would find their way out. So it was my brother who spoke first. “You wanted to talk.”

 
; I nodded.

  “So talk.”

  “Okay.” I glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. It was pretty cold out, so most people were probably indoors, but you never knew. I took a long breath. “Nick, there’s nothing going on between me and Sage.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “If only that were true.”

  “And there never will be,” I added. “Trust me.”

  Nick picked up his pace, speeding past the chapel. “Why the hell should I? She told me the same thing, but here you guys are, for four years now, making it clear to everyone that the only reason you were put on the earth is to be with each other.”

  Shit, I thought. Suddenly I hated myself, realizing Nick believed what the rest of Bexley believed about me and Sage. I’d always thought he was immune. Why? Because he was my brother?

  God, that made it worse.

  I shook my head. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t love me that way.” I felt the back of my neck heat up, but I forced myself to say it: “And I can’t love her that way. It is impossible for me to think of her like that.”

  “Then you’re messed up, Charlie.” He gave me a look. His eyes were hard, not like Nick at all. “Because she’s the best girl there is.”

  I stopped walking—­heart clenching, and everything else going numb. Messed up, I heard again. You’re messed up, Charlie.

  “Are you coming?” he called out, now a few yards ahead of me.

  I didn’t move. “Do you remember our last soccer game?”

  Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and backtracked. “What? Like in eighth grade?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess.” He came to a stop next to me. “The one where you got your yellow card?”

  “Yes.”

  “It should’ve been a red one. You kicked that kid’s ass.”

  “I know.”

  “So what about it?”

  My throat felt like it was about to close up. “Do you remember why I shoved him?”

  “Yeah, because he was saying something about you wanting to…” Nick trailed off, working the rest out in his head.

  During that game, I’d been told to tail the other team’s best player, and unsurprisingly the kid wasn’t too thrilled about it. “Why’re you so obsessed with me?” he asked all throughout the first half, and I ignored him. But things escalated in the second; he was frustrated because I kept intercepting the passes meant for him. Then I accidentally pushed him, and he grabbed my hand and yelled, “If you want to hold my hand, all you have to do is ask!”

  And that’s when I really pushed him. I remembered Dad asking about it after the game, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. So it was Nick who answered, saying, “It was stupid, Dad. The kid was making it seem like Charlie wanted to hold hands with him, like Charlie’s gay or something.”

  Our father had had quite the laugh at that one.

  Sometimes I could still sort of hear it.

  After a minute, I heard Nick whisper, “But you can’t be…”

  I stared down at the cobblestones. “I am.”

  Nick was quiet.

  I was quiet.

  And the whole thing only became unquiet when Paddy and Cody arrived on the scene minutes later. “Carmichaels!” Paddy clapped each of us on the back. “What’s the latest?”

  I found my voice first. “Just going over our plan of attack.” I nodded at Brooks. “Word is there’s a pretty impressive sheet cake in your fridge.” Yesterday, Jack had made sure everyone and their mother knew it was his birthday.

  “Oh, is there?” Paddy asked, at the same time Cody went: “I’ll never tell.”

  They shoved off soon after that, recognizing they’d walked into something. But Nick and I just stood there. It started snowing. The type of snow that Luke loved: feathery flakes. We were lying on the MAC’s roof back in December, letting a layer cover us. “This is my favorite,” he’d whispered. “The gods are having a pillow fight.”

  A car’s headlights brought me back to reality, to this silent standoff with Nick. We moved off to the side of the road to let it pass, and all the warmth I felt thinking about Luke cooled until it matched the current temperature outside. After the car was gone, my twin and I looked at each other. Please say something, I tried to tell him.

  And the message went through, because Nick shifted from one foot to the other, and cleared his throat, getting ready to speak. But then his gaze went to the ground…and it felt like getting kicked in the gut when he murmured, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Fine.” I looked away even though he wasn’t looking at me. I fought against the oncoming waterworks, and maybe even shrugged. “I get it.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Charlie…”

  I started walking away. “Sleep tight, Nick.”

  Chapter 27

  Sage

  Later that night, when I was taking half-­hearted notes on my Buddhism class reading, my phone began to buzz. Charlie, I immediately thought, reaching to grab it from its charger.

  But it wasn’t him. “Hey.” I picked up.

  “Hey,” Nick said softly, and then nothing else. It was silent for several heartbeats before he spoke again. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  My eyes were suddenly full of tears. His voice…it was neutral…his tone didn’t give me any clues as to how he felt about everything. I was flying blind for now. “Yeah,” I admitted, starting to pick at some initials carved in my desk. “I knew…I’ve known.”

  He was quiet again. “For how long?”

  “Thanksgiving,” I told him. “But I’ve suspected for years.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “No,” Nick said after another pause. “But I wish you’d told me.”

  I tilted my head back to stare up at my blank ceiling. “I wanted to…and I was so close a couple of times.” I remembered our fall nights together. “But it was Charlie’s truth to tell, not mine.”

  “I know,” he agreed, releasing a sigh. “I only wish I’d known…”

  I shifted in my chair, wondering what he was thinking about. Charlie? Or maybe us? Would we still be together if he’d known? I had no idea.

  Nick cleared his throat. “I love him just the same,” he said. “In case that wasn’t clear. He’s my brother…my best friend…and I want him to be happy.”

  I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me. Lately I’d been telling Charlie his family would understand, and now here Nick was, doing exactly that. Maybe telling their parents and everyone else would soon follow.

  “That’s really good to hear, Nick,” I said. “He’s been wrestling with this for a long time, so I’m glad, you know…” I trailed off, not really knowing what I was trying to say, but hoping he would get it.

  He did. “I feel like such a jerk,” he said. “You were right. He was acting weird in the fall. I saw it, but didn’t really think about it because I was so jealous…”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I assured him. “He’s come so far since then.” I paused for a beat, hoping I wasn’t about to overstate things. “I honestly think these last couple of months have been the happiest of his life.”

  Silence, and then, “Is he, uh, with someone?”

  My eyebrows knitted together. “He didn’t tell you?”

  Nick sighed. “Well, no. I was so shocked, and we got interrupted by some people…”

  I leaned forward and began to pick at the initials again, debating whether or not to tell him. “Um, yeah,” I answered, deciding that yes, he deserved to know. “He’s with someone. Since Thanksgiving.”

  Nick was quiet, processing. “It’s Morrissey, isn’t it? Luke?”

  “Yeah,” I confirmed, feeling somewhat taken aback. I wasn’t certain, but I thought this was the first time I’d ever heard Nick say Luke’s
name. Even though it was no secret he was one of my best friends, I didn’t know why. “How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t,” he replied. “Until just now. I didn’t even know he was actually gay…I thought that was only a rumor…and I used to think you guys sort of liked each other…”

  And that’s why Luke has never come up, I realized, wanting to groan.

  “But it makes sense,” he added, “because they’re together all the time, and Charlie acts different around him…protective.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Very inseparable, and very protective.” I thought of the quiet, but firm way Charlie stood next to Luke in the out-­of-­control line at the Tuck Shop, ready to shield him from any accidental jostling, and the way he was quick to back up Luke during any dinner debate. “Yes, if it ever comes to a duel,” Luke once said, rolling his eyes, “Charlie’s my second.”

  Again, Nick didn’t respond at first. “I think I should go,” he said eventually. “I should call him. He took off after we ran into Smith and Clarke, and I want to talk more. Make sure he knows things are good.”

  I nodded. “Sounds great.”

  “Thanks.” He coughed. “I’m glad we talked.”

  “Me too,” I said, heart speeding up. “Really, really glad.”

  Nick laughed. “Okay, I’ll see you, then.”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “I’ll see you.”

  Chapter 28

  Charlie

  Nick texted me at 9:00 p.m. asking if I wanted to crash with him in Mortimer. Coach Meyer said it’s cool, he wrote, but I waited a good five minutes before checking with Mr. Fowler and grabbing my sleeping bag. My brother was waiting for me on the front porch, now wearing sweatpants and his god-

  awful Patagonia, with his big Hudson’s Bay blanket draped around his shoulders like a cape. We looked at each other for a few seconds, and then he gestured for us to go inside.

  “I’m sorry for earlier,” Nick said once we were in his room. I saw that one of his pillows was already on his chesterfield, all ready for me. A box of Murdick’s Fudge sat on his desk, along with a bag of Doritos and two sweating ginger beers. My brother was the only person I knew who drank straight ginger beer.