The Love Interest

by Cale Dietrich

  She blinks once. “I do, Caden. I love him so much that I can’t even tell if what I’m feeling is fear because I’m probably going to die, or grief because I love him and he dumped me. Wait, you don’t feel that way for Juliet? You must be a pretty good actor yourself—you seem pretty smitten with her.”

  I cross my arms. “Maybe I do. I’m an expert on making people fall in love, not on what love feels like.”

  “Here’s a test. When you’re bored, what do you think about?”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t know. Death, I guess. Either mine or Dyl’s.”

  She leans back into my chest and sniffs. “I feel sorry for you, Caden. But not that much. Because I think this hurts more than the incinerator will. I guess I’ll find out if that’s true soon enough.”

  “Don’t talk like that, it’s not over. He could want you back. He’s the one who screwed up, not you. Your coach must know that.”

  “Yeah, I called him, and he thinks it’s not over yet. Apparently Kaylee told him about your conversation with Trev, and how upset he was over cheating on me. I don’t know. The only thing I can think about it is that maybe Trev knows, deep down, that our relationship started under false pretenses. Because Trev’s such a good guy, the best really, and it’s so unlike him to do that. Unless he knows there’s something wrong with me. Plus, Caden, a girl … a girl is dead because of me. I never talk about it, obviously, but I think about it constantly and I think it warped me. I know I won, but, like, when she got taken away I changed so much that I’m not even sure if I’m lovable anymore.”

  “You’re extremely lovable, Nat. And there’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing. You’ve done what you had to do to survive. It’s admirable.”

  “That’s so kind of you to say, Caden. Thanks. But it’s something you should prepare yourself for if you can, because the LIC doesn’t prepare us at all for how it feels to win. They make it seem like winning will be this big party, but it’s really not.”

  I picture Dyl being taken away, and know that I could never prepare myself for that.

  “And I’m sorry about this,” she continues. “But I have more bad news. You need to hear it, though, because it could save your life. Here it goes: Juliet is planning on making her choice at Dyl’s party.”

  The whole world slows down.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, she’s sick of toying with you both. She doesn’t think it’s fair to either of you. So she’s decided she’ll choose as soon as the party ends.”

  This is good, Caden.

  I start to shake. I sit up straighter, trying to contain myself, because I can’t let Natalie know how awful I feel about this. She’s expecting me to be happy about it, so that’s how I must act. Even though she’s a Love Interest, I still have to lie to her.

  “You’re in the home stretch,” says Natalie. “And I’d bet on you. Dyl will be dead by the end of the week.”

  I gulp. “Great.”

  She meets my eyes. “I take back what I said before—you’re not that good an actor. At least you’re not when you’re hiding what truly matters to you.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  To kill time, I’m on the floor beside my bed doing push-ups. Up, down. Up, down. My muscles burn, all the way from my wrists to my chest.

  I need to be big, I need to be strong.

  My “Nicki’s Greatest Hits” playlist is playing through my laptop speakers, because I had hoped it would distract me. But now even Nicki reminds me of Dyl, and my mind is trapped in an endless cycle of Juliet making her choice. I picture her choosing Dyl, forcing me to accept that I’m going to die. Then I picture her choosing me, and having to watch as Dyl is dragged to his death.

  I’m not sure which is worse.

  I drop down so my face hovers an inch off the carpet. I’m so close I can see the wiry individual strands, and the little white flecks of dust and dirt that are deeply entrenched in the fibers. My entire body starts to tremble. A drop of sweat falls from my forehead to the floor.

  Caden, you need to go to bed. Big day tomorrow.

  Can’t sleep. Last chance to make sure I’m perfect.

  You’ll get bags under your eyes and no one likes those. Go to bed. That’s an order.

  A knock sounds on my window. I rise to the top of the push-up and look forward. Dyl is there, crouching outside my window. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, skinny jeans, and boots. I stand up and walk over to the window, rolling my aching left shoulder as I move.

  I push the window up.

  “Can’t sleep?” I ask as I turn back and press the space bar, stopping the music.

  “No way. I’m kind of stressed about tomorrow. Judy thinks if it goes well I’ll make up some lost ground. Then, the day after the party, I’ve got this big thing planned. I can’t tell you about it, obviously, but it’s so cool. I’m already memorizing my lines.”

  He doesn’t know that she’s going to choose tomorrow. He doesn’t know how close he is to death. I should play along, but I can’t win this thing with an unfair advantage. I just can’t.

  “Dyl, there isn’t going to be a day after the party for one of us. She’s going to make her choice tomorrow.”

  His face drops. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m certain.”

  “I … I haven’t done enough. If she’s making her choice tomorrow, she’s going to pick you.” His eyes go wide. “I’m going to die.”

  I can’t lie. I can’t do it.

  “I think so,” I say. “Dyl, I—”

  “Nope, I’m not going to give up, and I don’t think you’re ready to give up on me. We’re smart, so we can figure a way to get out of this. If we make sure we’re both really important to her, then they’ll have to keep me around, right? I don’t know, maybe the LIC could repurpose me as a long-lost brother or something? Come on, man, start coming up with some ideas! The only way for us both to survive is to make sure we’re both important to the plot, so how can we do that? There has to be a way. I mean, if Cho Chang can make it to the Battle of Hogwarts then we can get through this. Maybe we could copy her? If I somehow find a way to make myself important to the school, then they’ll keep me around. Right?”

  “I just don’t think that’s our story. Trust me, I wish I could tell you it’ll work, but I promised I’d be honest. And it won’t work. Our story is going to end with one clear victor, and as soon as he’s crowned, the other needs to vanish. That’s our story.”

  His pupils twitch, and I can almost see the cogs in his mind processing this. He gulps, then looks up at me. “So this is my last night alive. Fine. I’ve known this was coming for a while, so it doesn’t change anything. But can we do something fun tonight? I don’t want to spend it alone.”

  Don’t be stupid, Caden. He could kill you. It’s happened before. Don’t go with him.

  “Kaylee thinks you want to kill me.”

  Dyl’s jaw is clenched tight and his cheek muscles are twitching. I notice something weird: he’s shaved. It makes him look younger and makes his eyes seem kinder somehow. His bloody perfect eyebrows are slightly raised, and his skin is so clear it looks like it’s glowing. He rubs his hairless chin and catches me looking at him.

  “I’m not going to kill you, Caden. I’m not even trying to win anymore. What’s the point? It’s over, I know it is. You beat me. And I’m okay with it, really. But I want to enjoy this wild world for one last night before they burn me. I don’t think it’s too much to ask, given the overwhelming shittiness of the hand I’ve been dealt.”

  He’s right, it’s not too much to ask. “I’m in,” I say. “But I have to get changed.”

  “You know, Nice guy, I wouldn’t object to a sympathy strip show. Just saying.”

  Huh. If I could trust him, I’d be flattered. But that line sounded heavily scripted. I imagine Judy sitting by herself in a dark room, writing down things for Dyl to say to me. Is he still playing me?

  Then again, what if he’s genuine? What if I’m
so messed up I can’t even recognize that he legitimately likes me? The prospect makes my heart do a happy dance. “Are you saying you like men, Dyl?”

  “I’m saying I like sex, Caden. And I’ll take what I can get.”

  Staring into his eyes, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it to the ground. I straighten my shoulders and tense my chest, trying to make myself as impressive as possible. He’s staring at me and suddenly all I want is to know what he’s thinking. Why not ask? My first instinct is that I can’t, and that I’m stupid for even considering it, but why can’t I? Kaylee will probably think it’s weird, but Juliet isn’t here and that’s all she cares about, so there’s no real reason to deny myself this.

  “What do you think, Dyl?” I ask. Suddenly I don’t know what to do with my arms. Then I remember that I’m a Nice, so I tuck them into my pockets and give him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Of me.”

  He steps close to me and the air between us fills with energy. Is he going to touch me? Kiss me? God, I want him to touch me. Slowly, he looks down, his gaze moving from my face to my chest, studying me. His jaw clenches tight.

  Finally, his stare meets mine. “I think you’re perfect.”

  I gulp. He takes a step backward and leans against the windowsill. He’s being odd, but I’m not sure if I think that because I really wanted him to kiss me and he’s not, you know, doing that. I peer closer and notice that his eyes have filled with tears. He’s blinking, trying to stop them, but it’s too late, and he starts to sob.

  “Dyl, I … Hang on, I’m going to get dressed.”

  He covers his face with his hands, and I spin around, grab a clean shirt, and tug it on. Then I pull a pair of jeans over my boxers and make my way back to him. His bottom lip is wobbling, and his eyes are focused on the window frame. He’s dug a little hole in the paint, revealing the spiky white wood beneath.

  “Sorry,” he says. “It’s just, you just made me think about everything I’m going to miss out on. Because I’m going to die, Caden. I’m going to fucking die. And I can’t pretend I’m okay about it anymore, because I’m not.”

  Oh fuck.

  My heart drops. “I’m so sorry, Dyl.”

  He pushes off the windowsill and moves toward me with small, hesitant steps. I don’t know what he’s doing, but then he lifts his hand and wipes his nose before looking at the floor. I think he wants me to hold him, but he’s too nervous to ask. I step forward and press him against me, wrapping my arms around the entirety of him. He feels small, and cold, and I can feel his bones through his shirt. He places his chin on my shoulder and sobs, so I move my hand up to the middle of his back and press him as close to me as possible. It feels like our ribs should slide between each other’s cracks, filling the gaps.

  But they don’t.

  I rub his back. “It’s all right, Dyl. Think of all the people who’ve died in all of history. If they’ve done it, you can too, right?” I wince as soon as the words leave my lips. I’m such a freaking moron.

  He sniffs. “I suppose.”

  After a few seconds, he steps away and wipes his eyes. “I have a question for you. Do you like me? Juliet didn’t like me. But did you like me?”

  Of course I like you. I like three things: Nicki Minaj, Star Wars, and you.

  “Don’t talk about yourself in the past tense. Just … don’t. I do like you, Dyl. You’re … you’re my favorite person.”

  He smiles like a child, hopeful and full of wonder. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He wipes his eyes again. “Okay, that makes me feel a bit better. I’ve been thinking about the fact that she chose you over me a lot. Like, what does it mean? I gave the contest everything I had, and I still wasn’t good enough. What does that mean about me as a person?”

  “It means I’m a better actor than you. A better liar. That’s it. I only won because I’m a bad person.”

  “I’m not sure that’s it, Caden. There’s something about you, something that’s wormed its way into my brain and hooked itself in so deep. And I can see by the way Juliet looks at you that she thinks it too. You have this thing about you, an X factor if you will. Whatever it is, it’s strong.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t feel strong. I feel confused most of the time. But I thought you wanted to do something fun tonight. And this conversation is as far from fun as possible. So, do you have something planned?”

  He nods. “It’s a surprise.” He steps outside. I follow after him, treading into the cool night air.

  When we reach the car he pats the hood. “What do you think they’ll do to this? Once, well, you know.”

  “I don’t know.”

  But that’s a lie, because I have an idea. It’ll be given to the next Bad. That car has probably gone through a few hopefuls like him. And, after tomorrow, it’ll be given to another.

  “Let’s ignore all that,” he says. “From now on, okay? Let’s ignore the fact that I’m about to die and enjoy ourselves.”

  “I’m here for you, Dyl. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Be careful with your words, Caden.” He’s smirking. “There is a lot of stuff I haven’t tried yet, and I’d rather not die a virgin.”

  I slam the door. “Please stop with the jokes. It feels like you’re messing with me, and I can’t handle that. So please, Dyl, listen to me and stop.”

  What I don’t say is how much I want him, or how much I want to believe him. I wish I could grab his hand and take him back to my room. Once there, I’d take his clothes off and kiss him and we’d just keep going until we were under the sheets, sweaty and exhausted. But I can’t. I don’t have it in me to trust him that much.

  “I’m saying what I feel, Caden. Believe me, it’s not scripted. Judy pretty much gave up on me. She’s already planning for the next Bad. So I have the luxury of being able to speak my mind. But I understand that you don’t, so I’ll stop.”

  I want to move past this, to forget how mistrustful I am, even if it’s just for a second, so I pick his iPod up from the space between us and press Play.

  I nestle against the seat.

  He drives.

  The stars blur above us.

  After some time, he parks the car and I open my eyes. In front of us is a carnival, a stretch of glowing yellow and pink lights. A massive Ferris wheel spins in the background. The air smells like burning toffee, mud, and mowed grass.

  I glare at him. “We’re in public, Dyl.”

  “So?”

  “Do you think I’m an idiot? What if Juliet is here and sees us together? What if anyone from school sees us? They’ll think it’s a date. If this is some sort of tactic to try to claw your way back I—”

  He slaps his forehead. “I didn’t think, man, honestly. It looked fun.”

  “Take me home, Dyl.”

  “What?”

  “I … I can’t do this. I want to go home.”

  I remember what I said to Trevor, about taking the pain from others, about how it’s braver to take some pain from them, to bear it, than it is to leave them suffering alone. Dyl’s shoulders are slightly hunched and he keeps blinking, like he hopes I won’t notice what he’s doing.

  Preventing himself from crying.

  Because I’m not the only one who feels things that need to be hidden. He’s the person I’m the most like my real self with, but I still downplay some things, like my feelings for him, when we’re together. Now I know that he’s doing something similar: downplaying how he feels about tomorrow.

  I open the car door and step outside. “Screw it.” I slam the door shut. My shoes sink into the damp ground. “Let’s go. I don’t care if they see us.”

  “You sure?”

  I nod, and he climbs out and locks the door behind him. We start walking through the carnival.

  “Don’t stand so close,” I say as I approach a stall. I run my fingers through the fur of a teddy bear that’s on display. “I don’t care if they see us together, but I’m not actively suicidal.”

&nb
sp; He raises his hands in mock surrender. “As you command, Nice guy.”

  I hand over a fifty-dollar bill to a bubbly young woman and she hands me six juggling balls and two twenties.

  “Get a ball into the container and you win a prize,” she says. “Get more in and you get better prizes! Good luck!”

  I hand three of the balls to Dyl, then take aim and throw. The ball hits the middle of the container and bounces out. Damn it!

  “Rookie,” says Dyl. He takes aim. His eyes narrow in the way they always do when he cares about something, and he holds the ball beside his head, his biceps flexed. Even through the jacket it looks fantastic. I notice I’m staring at his arm, and blood rushes to my cheeks. I kick the dirty ground as he throws. He gets the ball in.

  I throw again. I miss.

  He crosses his arms. “Are you pretending to be bad at this? You know, to make me feel good about myself?”

  I give him the finger.

  He throws and it bounces out. The crack in his perfectness makes me want to laugh, but I keep my lips pressed together.

  Now it’s my turn to throw again. Come on, impress him. Show him you’re good at something. I throw the ball. This time I miss completely.

  He gets his shot in. Of course he does. He pumps his fist when he makes it.

  “Congratulations,” says the girl. “You can take your pick from the back wall.”

  Dyl leans back and peers at the wall like a scholar. “Surprise me.”

  The girl hands Dyl a pink stuffed dinosaur. He squeezes it and it squeaks. “What I’ve always wanted. Thank you.”

  She laughs. “You’re welcome.”

  We walk away.

  “Do you like my dino?” he asks. “I’m thinking of calling him Mr. Huggles.”

  I frown. “Are you serious?”

  He lifts an eyebrow, then walks up to a family that’s waiting in line in front of the cotton candy stall, leaving me alone. He waves at them, getting their attention, and then he starts talking to the parents. A small girl, maybe four at the oldest, is hiding behind her father’s legs. Dyl crouches, then offers her Mr. Huggles. She reaches out and snatches it from his grasp, then returns to her safe place. The parents laugh, and then Dyl makes his way back to me with his hands tucked into his pockets.