If We Were Us

by K. L. Walther

  I wanted to start right now.

  So I took Luke’s hand and threaded our fingers together.

  Luke grinned. “Let’s go,” he said, tugging me. “Plenty to see.”

  And he was right—­there was plenty to see, and we somehow saw it all. We roamed through the various buildings, ran whooping through the outdoor amphitheater (the students passing by looked at us like we were nuts), found the football stadium, and spiraled down the library steps to see the school’s Hogwarts-esque reading room. Lights dimmed, it looked exactly like the Gryffindor common room, with its warm oriental rugs and furniture, old-­fashioned lamps and bookcases everywhere. Some students were studying, some stretched out and sleeping.

  “You go ahead,” Luke whispered, the two of us standing in the doorway. “I don’t think I should.” He shrugged. “Being a Ravenclaw and all.”

  “Well then, Nick’s the only one allowed in,” I whispered back. “Because Sage is a Hufflepuff, and I’m pretty sure I’m a Slytherin.”

  “What?” Luke shook his head. “C, no.” He reached to ruffle my hair. “Both Weasley twins are Gryffindors, remember?”

  I rolled my eyes, and he cracked up. A few people looked up from their laptops to shoot us glares. Which only made Luke laugh harder, so I crooked my arm around his neck to hide his face in my shoulder. “Stay cool, Ravenclaw,” I whispered. “Or else we can’t trespass…”

  Our final campus destination was the famous rotunda, The Lawn’s beacon of light. It was modeled after Rome’s Pantheon, standing strong with its brick exterior, white Corinthian columns, and domed roof. “Will you take a picture of me?” Luke asked. “I promised my mom.”

  He handed over his phone, but after snapping the shot, I pulled mine from my back pocket and took another one. Here we are, UVA, I captioned the photo and Snapchatted it to Sage…and, after some hesitation, also Nick.

  He was the first to respond, Sage probably still on the slopes. There was no picture, only a message: Shouldn’t you be in that picture too?

  * * *

  Dinner was downtown, at an upscale steakhouse in the open-­air mall. “We should go on a date,” I hadn’t forgotten Luke saying that night on FaceTime, right before Paddy and Nick had barged into the business center. “A real date.”

  But instead of it being funded by his poker winnings, this dinner was all me. He had the Airbnb, I had the food. “Carmichael,” I told the hostess. “It’s under ‘Carmichael,’ for two.”

  This is better than Bistro, I knew as soon as we were seated. And the Bluebird, no question. So much better.

  Luke looked so handsome in dark jeans and a forest-­green sweater, with the collar of his white T-­shirt peeking out, and his hair perfectly imperfect. “What?” he said when he noticed me staring, glancing up from his menu. “You good?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I nodded, feeling my face warm. I took a sip from my water glass. “It’s just not fair how handsome you are.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said, and tilted his head with a half-­smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He laughed. “Even if I’ve seen a version of this look hyaku times already.”

  I sighed. I didn’t know Japanese, but my guess was hyaku translated to something like a hundred. Since I was wearing my usual: blue blazer and striped tie. “Well, sorry,” I said. “Not my fault that I was raised in America’s preppiest state.”

  Luke smirked and stretched out his hand, palm faceup.

  I met him halfway, putting mine on top of his for a second before shifting so that our fingers could lock together.

  “I like this,” he whispered.

  “Me too,” I whispered back.

  We didn’t let go until our food came.

  * * *

  “Okay, okay,” Luke said into the darkness. We were back in the apartment, under the covers in bed. “First crush, go.”

  “First crush?” I asked, sort of smiling. We did this most nights—­told each other things or stories about ourselves, sometimes from when we were kids, and sometimes from only a few years ago. “Really?”

  “Mm-­hmm,” he said. “I wanna know.”

  “Well, you,” I told him. “You, of course.”

  Luke snorted. “Liar.”

  “What?” I said, and stopped tracing figure eights on his shoulder blades.

  “I know it was your sister’s boyfriend,” he said. “Cal, right? The guy in that photo on your wall?”

  I was quiet for a second. The picture of Cal and me, licking ice cream cones together on the Vineyard. “Yeah,” I murmured. “It was him. He was pretty cool.”

  “Good-­looking too,” Luke added. “Very good-­looking.”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” Luke nestled in closer, tangled our legs together. I felt him kiss my neck. Everything went hazy.

  “Your turn,” I said when I could speak again. “Who was your first crush?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “You.”

  This time it was me who snorted. “Very funny.”

  “I was ten,” Luke went on as I resumed the figure eights. “It was at this neighborhood party, during a game of hide-­and-­seek. We hid together, then hung out the rest of the time. He had these great blue eyes, and my face got really hot when he laughed…”

  “How do you remember stuff from when you were ten?”

  Luke laugh-­yawned. “I told you, C. I remember everything.”

  We fell asleep not long after that. He drifted off first, then me. And the last thing I remembered was making a mental note to ask him what he’d been dreaming about, because just as my eyes shut for good, I heard him mumble, “You were wearing alligator pants.”

  * * *

  Our train back to Bexley was at 10:00 a.m. on Monday, but I asked our Uber driver to make a detour on the way to the station. “What are we doing here?” Luke asked as I popped open the car door, UVA’s rotunda shining in the sun. “We already…”

  I ignored him, instead asking some early-­bird tourists to take our picture. Luke straightened his new VIRGINIA hat before I draped my arm around his neck, and he reached up to twine our fingers together. Our photographers looked a little taken aback, but then the woman told us to smile.

  I already was.

  Chapter 31

  Sage

  I knew something was up when I noticed Luke eating Cheerios for breakfast on Tuesday. I’d gotten back to school just before curfew last night, so this was my first time seeing everyone since before the weekend. Charlie sprung up from the table to give me a hug, but Luke didn’t.

  “What’s this?” I asked as I sat down with my buttered bagel and gestured to his breakfast. “No omelet or pancakes? I thought cereal was beneath you.”

  We made eye contact, and I wasn’t going to lie…he looked sort of sad. “Chef’s block,” he replied, and gave me a smile. But it wasn’t genuine. Something was definitely wrong. I debated shooting him a quick text, but a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “Hey, you mind if I join?”

  I looked up to see the newly single Nicholas Carmichael standing there, waiting for us to say yes before taking a seat. It was bad, Nina had texted our group chat this weekend. He took her to Captain Smitty’s and she started crying. Then Reese had chimed in with: And apparently she’d already bought a dress for Mort’s Valentine’s thing…

  “By all means.” I smiled, heart beating faster, and the flock nodded in agreement.

  “Thanks,” he replied, and sat next to me. Our shoulders brushed before he sliced into his stack of pancakes. “Oh man, you’re so right, Luke,” he said after swallowing. “These are epic with cinnamon!”

  * * *

  “So it was good?” I whispered during architecture. “You guys had fun?” Charlie and I were in the middle of sketching out our latest project: a town building that incorporated elements
from the Victorian style. It was due at the end of the week.

  “I’d say that’s an accurate statement,” he whispered back, flipping his pencil over to erase a crooked line. “Considering Luke said he never wanted to leave.”

  I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Well, lucky for him, he’s about to spend four years there.”

  Charlie stayed silent and then admitted that he hadn’t wanted to leave either before returning to our blueprint. But I caught a hint of a smile, the curling of his lips—­a secretly proud smile that out of nowhere, made me think of Nick.

  Who I found myself walking with to Addison for lunch. “How was dispatch this weekend?” I asked after telling him about the Poconos. “Did your parents check in at all?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, zipping up his hockey jacket. “But it was me who called them. Mom, actually. I wanted to talk to her about…” He trailed off.

  Emma, I figured. He wanted to tell his mom about Emma. Ouch. I started fiddling with my mittens, feeling awkward. Not that their breakup had anything to do with me, but…

  Did it?

  Maybe?

  Just a little?

  Nick changed the subject before I could ask any follow-­up questions. “Did Charlie send you that other rotunda picture?” he asked. “Of him and Luke together?”

  “Yes.” I nodded, trying to seem upbeat—­even though my initial reaction to Charlie’s second Snapchat had been pure jealousy. Seeing him smile so widely and openly with his arms around Luke…well, it made me wish for a picture like that, of me and Nick. If he came with us, I’d thought, sitting on my hotel bed. If he’d come skiing with me…

  He wouldn’t have ended things with Emma, I reminded myself, a bounce back in my step. If I’d convinced him to come, Emma would still be in the picture.

  But she wasn’t. Not anymore.

  “It’s an epic shot,” Nick said as I snuck a peek at him, heart twisting at his handsome face. He dug his iPhone out of his pocket and tapped its screen. “Isn’t it?”

  “Oh my god, Nick!” I gasped at Luke and Charlie’s matching grins. “That cannot be your wallpaper!”

  “Why not?” he asked. “I ship them.”

  I gave him a look. “You ship them?”

  “Of course. Luke’s cool and I’ve never seen Charlie that amped…” He paused to gauge my face. “I mean, don’t you?”

  “Well, duh!” I glanced around, to see if anyone was eavesdropping. “They’re adorable, but you still have to change it. Charlie would freak the fuck out.” I imagined Nick getting a text notification and someone catching sight of his wallpaper. One of the things I loved about him was that he wasn’t a guy who casually passed his phone around, but you could never be too sure.

  We walked wordlessly for the next few yards, past Knowles. “Has he said anything to you?” Nick asked, adjusting his backpack straps. “About telling everyone?”

  “No,” I said, and sighed. “No, he hasn’t.”

  Nick nodded then swiped into his phone. I stared straight ahead at the dining hall, remembering Luke’s slumped shoulders this morning, until I felt Nick elbow me. “This better?” he asked, and showed me his new wallpaper: the two of us at a Vineyard bonfire, years and years before spin the bottle. Sixth grade, maybe—­we both had braces. Wearing fluorescent orange necklaces, we were smiling and holding up freshly toasted marshmallows.

  A wave of something suddenly rocked me. I ship them, I thought. I ship those two so much.

  “Yes,” I told Nick. “Way better.”

  He smiled, white teeth now perfectly straight.

  * * *

  The next day, I texted a still-­subdued Luke asking if he wanted to get Pandora’s after track practice. You read my mind, he replied, and was already in our favorite booth when I arrived at the café later. A few open notebooks and his MacBook were keeping him company.

  “Hey.” I smiled, taking off my backpack and putting it down on the bench opposite him. “You want anything?”

  “Regular coffee, please.”

  So after getting him his coffee and me my usual latte, I cut right to the chase: “Did you not have a good time this weekend?”

  “What?” Luke’s eyes went wide. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’ve seemed kinda out of it lately.”

  Luke straightened his glasses. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But it’s not because I didn’t have a good time. This weekend…” He looked at me and smiled. “It was the best weekend of my life.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  He glanced away. “It’s just, I wish things could be like that all the time.”

  “You mean you two being on vacation?”

  “No, not that.” He shook his head. “I mean, how things were between us while we were there.”

  My stomach sank, suspicions confirmed.

  “I’m so mad at myself,” he murmured. “I told myself it was fine, that I didn’t mind keeping things a secret.” He sighed. “But that was before I realized what it would be like if we weren’t one.”

  I fumbled for something to say, but he kept going.

  “He held my hand, Sage. Everywhere we went, walking through town, walking across campus, he held my hand the entire time—­kissed me on the cheek, even.” He smiled. “There were people everywhere, and they knew we were together, and I liked that. I liked walking down the street and knowing that the people we passed knew that we were us. I’m trying to be patient…God, I’m trying so hard…but suddenly it’s impossible. He means so much to me, and I want people to know that.”

  I took a breath. There it was: Luke Morrissey was human. He’d been such a saint in only being with Charlie behind closed doors, but now he wanted more. Which made me wonder… Would Charlie give it to him? Or would he run away?

  Or would Luke be like Nick and walk away?

  “So what does this mean?” I asked gently.

  Luke reached up to run a hand through his hair, and his sweater sleeve pulled up just enough for me to see Charlie’s bracelets on his wrist: one was a black-­and-­red striped tie bracelet, and the other a faded green-­and-­white knotted rope one. A lump formed in my throat, since it was another testament of how much he loved Luke. Those bracelets were Charlie’s, and Charlie’s alone. He never let anyone else wear them.

  “I don’t know,” Luke said, looking more disappointed than I’d seen him in months. “I don’t know.”

  * * *

  The vibe at Pandora’s was pretty low-­key that night, so we studied without distraction until the door’s bell rung, signaling someone’s entry. Luke looked up from his laptop and raised an eyebrow. “My, my,” he said, and I turned to see Nick at the counter, backpack slung over his shoulder and hair matted from hockey practice. “What a coincidence.”

  Before I could stop myself, I jumped up and was waving at him.

  “Subtle, Sage,” Luke whispered. “Real subtle.”

  “Shut up,” I whispered back as Nick jokingly glanced over his shoulder, as if thinking I meant someone else. Then he cocked his head, smirked, pointed to himself, and mouthed:

  Who, me?

  My heart cartwheeled for the first time in a long time. “He’s flirting, right?” I asked Luke, to make sure I wasn’t losing it.

  “Yeah.” Luke nodded. “Not very well, but yeah.”

  I grinned. Nick had never been the best flirt, but I loved flirting with him. I’d forgotten how fun it was.

  He joined us after ordering one of Pandora’s bottomless pasta bowls. Chicken alfredo, I knew without having to ask. “Addison didn’t step up tonight,” he explained, sliding into the booth next to me. “Something resembling meatloaf?”

  “But do they ever step up?” I joked.

  “That’s why I always do the make-­your-­own stations,” Luke said, then shook his head. “I really don’t unde
rstand how you guys have survived four years on Bexley food.” He gave us a look. “You know our food provider also stocks a bunch of prisons?”

  “What?” I exclaimed.

  He nodded. “The term institutional food doesn’t just include schools.”

  Nick chuckled. “Don’t tell my dad that! He and my uncle Theo always talk about how much they miss the food here…” His phone chimed. “Charlie,” he announced, skimming the message. “He tweaked his ankle at practice and went to the trainer’s for ice, and now wants to know if he should swing by?” He glanced at Luke. “You haven’t answered his texts?”

  Luke ignored the second question. “No, that’s okay,” he said. “Tell him to meet me in my room.” He began packing up his stuff, and I caught him roll his eyes. “Provided he can make it upstairs on his ankle.”

  “They sure don’t call it ‘deadpan’ for nothing,” Nick commented once Luke was gone. “His sarcasm is deadly.”

  “Extremely,” I agreed as his pasta was served.

  Although soon the bowl was halfway between us. “Can I ask you something?” Nick said as we shared, his fork battling my fork for a juicy chunk of chicken.

  “Only if I get this piece,” I said.

  He conceded.

  I smiled and popped it in my mouth. “Go.”

  But Nick hesitated. “How long do you think she’s going to be upset?” he eventually asked, putting down his fork. “I feel really bad…”

  I felt something inside me jolt.

  “Sage, how long do you think?”

  I opened my mouth, although nothing came out. How long did I think it would take Emma Brisbane to get over Nick?

  “I don’t know.” I half-­shrugged. “I don’t know her that well.” I bit my lip, not wanting to think about my own breakup with him. “But she’s definitely hurting. She really liked you, Nick.”

  From the way he winced, it was obvious Emma had more than really liked Nick, and told him that. And as much as it killed me, I assumed he’d reciprocated, too nice not to say those words back.