by Dahlia Adler
“But you talked about it with Declan. And he talked about it with Sylvia.”
“Sylvia was the one who first mentioned it, actually, after that weekend you spent at her house. She said she’d never seen Jasmine glow like that. And when Jasmine asked to spend the year here … there’s a reason they gave in easily. I thought maybe it was only on her side, especially after all those years of your crush on Chase, but I see the glow on you too.” She smiles. “It’s beautiful. You’re lucky to have each other.”
“We don’t yet,” I tell her. “But we will. I hope. I don’t know as what. But we’ll figure it out.”
“Yes, you will. Deep breaths, Larotchka. You will get through this.”
I give her a kiss on the cheek, and then I’m off from one scary conversation to the next.
* * *
It doesn’t occur to me until I’m ringing Chase’s doorbell that I should’ve given him a heads-up. No matter—he’s the one who answers the door, and he looks unfairly hot in a clingy T-shirt and shorts. For a brief second, I contemplate not going through with this. It would be so easy to keep riding the high of superstardom on Chase’s arm, to keep spending time with this good-looking and charming boy who genuinely likes me. It’s not like Jasmine would tell anyone; she can disappear back to Asheville and I can finish out this perfect year I’ve been having. I can wear my Homecoming crown and cheer at Chase’s games and hold his hand at the movies and pose with him for pictures at prom. I don’t have to blow that all apart.
Except I do. Because when I think about spending those Friday nights watching movies with Jasmine, when I think about Jasmine’s hips beneath my fingertips when we dance, when I think about ice cream dates and road trips and planning for college and making out in the backseat of a car … she’s the person I wanna do all that with.
She’s my top-of-high-school-bucket-list prom date.
It’s that simple, even if it isn’t simple at all.
“Hey! I was just thinking about you.” He drops a kiss on my cheek and steps aside to let me in. “I had a great time last night.”
Well, that’s gonna make this harder. “I’m glad, but I really need to talk to you about something.”
“Oookay.” He closes the door behind me and leads me into his living room. “You want a drink?”
“No, thank you. Can—can we just sit?”
“This sounds serious.” He frowns. “This sounds breakup serious. Are you breaking up with me?”
I hesitate, because that’s really not how I wanted to start this conversation, and anger flashes in his eyes. “Did you seriously hook up with me to become Homecoming queen and then dump me? That’s really fucked-up.”
“No,” I assure him firmly. “God, no, Chase. It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” he asks, his voice dipped in acid.
Deep breath. He’s hurt. He’s allowed to be hurt. “This isn’t about Homecoming. You of all people know that I liked you forever. It’s that … there was someone else, and I didn’t really realize it until last night.”
“Hold up. You cheated on me?”
“No!” God, I should’ve prepared this better. I scrub my face with my hands and groan. “I’m sorry; I am doing this really poorly. Let me start over.” Another deep breath. “There was someone before you, and I didn’t understand my feelings, and you came along, and—you’re Chase. I have had a crush on you since I was in Little League with Kira and you were her string bean of a brother sitting on the sidelines. When you were interested in me, it kind of obliterated everything else. It helped me stop thinking about this thing I didn’t wanna think about. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
He scratches the back of his head. “Lara, I gotta be honest—I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Aaaand I’m officially out of ways to dance around this. Deep breath. “It’s a girl, Chase. I like a girl. I was with a girl this past summer.”
“Uh … whoa.” For the first time since he realized this was the end of our relationship, he doesn’t look mad. He looks stunned. As stunned as I feel that the words just came out of my mouth.
“That’s exactly how I felt. I was so confused, and then you were into me, and I have liked you for so long. I thought if I had you, I could put her behind me. I wanted to put her behind me, to be with you. But it didn’t work.”
“I mean, this is the bisexual thing, right?” he says, and his voice does not sound kind. “Not being able to choose?”
I recoil as if Chase has slapped me, which it kind of feels like he has. “If by ‘thing’ you mean ‘stereotype,’ then yeah, it is. But this isn’t that. I wanted you, Chase. For fucking years, I wanted you. You know it. Everyone at Stratford knows it. You had years to see something in me. But you didn’t; someone else did. And I didn’t know I was—” I snap off. I don’t know how to say this without sounding stupid, without feeling stupid, without telling Chase too much.
“You didn’t know you were what?” he asks, and I don’t know how to read his voice anymore. It isn’t mad or tired or sad, but I feel all of it in those six words. “Bi?”
And because that’s not it—because that’s only a tiny piece, and because I haven’t been able to take the time to decide whether it’s my piece—I say what I have to say. “I didn’t know I was allowed to like her like that,” I finish quietly. “I didn’t know it was okay. I didn’t know it could be more than ‘girls just messing around’ or ‘girls having fun.’ I had liked you—really liked you—for so long, I knew I wasn’t gay. I knew I liked boys. And I knew she liked boys. And sometimes when you like the gender you’re ‘supposed’ to like, it’s not so clear what’s happening with the others.”
He furrows his brow in confusion. “But it’s not like you don’t know what bisexuality is. You have bi friends.”
“Yeah, and the fact that it didn’t look the same for them made it even more confusing. Jamie? Has been out forever. Kenny Cho? Announced that Evan Sanders was his boyfriend when we were literally standing in a sandbox, and then a week later he said Julie Morrow was his girlfriend now. I never had feelings like that for any girls until this summer. And my best friends are pretty much the hottest girls in school, so, you know—I’d have known.”
That at least gets a tiny snort of a laugh from Chase, but then his face grows serious. “So, you really like her?”
“I really do.”
“But you liked me too.”
“I really did,” I say, putting a hand on his arm. I hope he can tell how much I mean it. “If I’d known what was going on between me and her wasn’t just a fling, I would’ve made different choices. I promise you that. I wasn’t trying to string you along, Chase. Dating you was all of my dreams coming true. But I hadn’t let myself realize that my dreams had changed.”
He huffs out a breath. “I really, really want to be mad at you.”
“You can be,” I assure him. “The fact that I was genuine doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit. And it’s not like I don’t feel shitty about it. I’d kill for no one to have gotten hurt in this scenario.”
“I know you would,” he says softly. “You’re a good person, Lara. It’s why I really, really fucking like you.”
Present tense, still. And I guess in a way, it’s present tense, still, for me too. But it isn’t the way I feel about Jasmine. It’s like the tail end of a romantic comet that’s about to fizzle into something that isn’t dazzling in the same way, but is more permanent, still stellar. “I would really, really like to stay friends,” I reply. “When you’re ready.”
He nods. “Not yet. But someday. Maybe you’ll come to one of my college games.”
“I’d like that,” I say, and I mean it. “I just need to spend a little more time on my face paint skills.”
He gives me the tiniest trace of a smile, and I tuck it away to remember us by because I have no idea what it’ll be like to see him in school on Monday. Things aren’t gonna go neatly when his friends, my friends
, and everyone else find out that not only did the Homecoming queen dump the king right after the dance, but she did it for another girl.
I’m probably in for day after day of hell.
And somehow, that feels better than when I was supposed to be in for day after day of heaven, and it felt like nothing at all.
We exchange quiet goodbyes, and my first thought is that I should head straight to Jasmine’s, but the truth is, I’m not ready. The reality of Chase Harding might not have been what I wanted it to be, but this is still the end of a dream. I need to mourn it.
And the only person I wanna do that with is waiting for me at home with tubs of ice cream, bright-green sheet masks, and every single rom-com Netflix has to offer.
* * *
Four hours, two movies, a thousand calories, and much glowing skin later, my mom makes what I suppose is an inevitable suggestion. “Why don’t you invite your friends over for the next one? I’ll order from Bamboo House and I think we have a few more of these sheet masks lying around.” She gives my hand a quick squeeze. “I think you’ll be happy to have them to talk to instead of just your old mama.”
The thing is? I really want to.
The thing is? I’m really scared to.
The thing is? I think I need to. And if my mom is offering Bamboo House, I know she thinks I do too, because that’s a special occasion place for us, and I guess in a way that’s what this is.
“Okay,” I say, my voice a wimpy whisper as I grab my phone and open our endless text chain to type out an invite that contains exactly no information other than that there’ll be a movie and Chinese food.
I expect I’ll get at least one of them replying that she’s too hung over to make it out, but apparently chicken lo mein is exactly what they all require for recovery, because half an hour later, the three of them are standing at my door.
The second I see their faces, I crack. “Chase and I broke up.”
Silence.
Then finally, Kiki says, “Holy shit.”
Gia immediately sweeps me into a hug, and I know she thinks he dumped me, but I let her do it anyway, let them usher me inside and onto the couch. My mom is out picking up the food, and their attention is on me, waiting for me to pour out my heart. It takes me a minute to figure out what to say, and Gia takes the opportunity to jump right in. “Do we hate him?” she asks.
I laugh and squeeze her hand. “No, we don’t hate him. He’s great. It turns out I’m just … not his fangirl anymore.”
Shannon’s eyebrows shoot to the sky. “Wait. You broke up with him?”
It’s hard not to exchange glances with Kiki, but I know if I do, Shan will pick up on it immediately and demand the truth. And while I finally feel safe figuring out my shit with them, I don’t know what to say until Jasmine and I figure out where we go from here. “I did. I … realized I’m looking for something else.”
“Wow.” Shannon looks at me—really looks at me—and the corner of her mouth curls into the tiniest hint of a smile. “You really did change this summer.”
My mom lets herself in then, the sound of the door saving me from having to respond. I jump up and take the bags from her hands, giving her a peck on the cheek and scurrying into the kitchen. I’m pulling out the takeout containers when I hear footsteps and see that Shannon has followed me.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I tell her, searching the cabinets for paper plates.
“I know.” She glances into the living room, where my mom is chatting with Kiki and Gia, and turns back to me. “Look … I’m sorry I was kind of shitty, telling Jasmine and everything. That wasn’t cool.”
Thank God there’s nothing in my hands but plastic cutlery, because at the sound of Shannon Salter saying the word “sorry,” forks and spoons go clattering to the countertop. “Did you just apologize?”
“It happens occasionally.”
“It doesn’t, though. We’ve been friends for more than ten years and I don’t think it ever has.”
“Okay, well, shut up, because I’m making it good.”
I shut up. How can I not?
“I thought … I thought you were gonna disappear on me, okay?”
“For Chase?”
She crosses her arms. “Of course for Chase. You finally got the guy, Lara. You weren’t gonna need my fashion advice or makeup tips or even car rides. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he was smitten as fuck. Any idiot could see it. And, well, every idiot knows you were smitten with him, so.”
I can’t even believe what I’m hearing. Never in my life would I have imagined Shannon Marie Salter to have an insecure bone in her entire perfect body. “You really thought I would ditch you for a guy? After everything?”
“Chase wasn’t just a guy, Lar. He’s the guy.”
“Okay, but you’re the Shannon,” I counter, raking a hand through my short blond curls. “I barely leave the house without you. I will always need you, and not for your clothing or makeup.”
She picks up the cutlery, opens the cabinet I’d been reaching for, and pulls out the plates. “That used to be true, but things have changed. You seemed like you didn’t need me anymore, and then I met Jasmine in AP French, and she seemed like she might, so.”
“Shan, you will always be of the utmost importance. You are the person who got me over being embarrassed to buy tampons in public. You’ve been getting my ass to school on time since the day you got your license. When I got that horrifying zit right before picture day sophomore year, you spent like an hour making sure I didn’t look like a human pizza. But there’s more to being friends than being needed. You don’t need to, like, provide a service, okay? Well, other than eyeliner application. I’m really reliant on that.”
“Deal,” she says, her lips curving at the corners.
I grab a bottle of Diet Coke from the fridge and bump it closed with my hip. “You were really straight-up trying to replace me, huh?”
“It sounds so bitchy when you put it that way.”
“Yeah, because it was bitchy, Shan. That’s why you’re apologizing, remember?”
She sighs heavily. “Fine. Yes. It was bitchy. I was bitchy. But for what it’s worth, Jasmine’s cool. I think you’d really like her.”
It’s just … too much. I have to put down the soda. I have to put down everything because I have started cracking up and I feel like I will never stop. It’s so loud that Gia and Kiki come rushing in to see what they’re missing.
“What the hell?” Kiki looks back and forth between me, who’s laughing her ass off, and Shannon, who’s looking at me like I am deranged.
When I finally manage to gather myself, I look Kiki right in the eyes and say, “Shannon thinks I would like Jasmine if only I got to know her.”
“Oh.” Kiki bites her lip so hard to keep from laughing that I think she’s going to draw blood, and I lose it all over again.
“What the hell is going on here?” Gia asks Shannon, who just shakes her head.
Having sort of come out twice today so far, I know that when an opportunity arises, you have to take it. The laughter stops, and I do glance at Kiki this time. She gives me an encouraging look.
Deep breaths.
“I do like Jasmine. A little too much. It’s, uh, kind of why I broke up with Chase.”
For the second time in a minute, there’s the familiar sound of plasticware clattering as Shannon drops it and the plates to the floor.
And then it’s silent.
I turn to Kiki. “Uh, is this how it went when you told them you were going to prom with Jasmine?”
“No, but apparently they’d both already assumed I was gay.”
“Aren’t you?” Gia asks, her face screwed up in confusion.
Kiki laughs. Which absolutely does not mean she isn’t. Or that she is.
“Okay, wait, back to Bogdan,” Shannon demands. “So, the Chase obsession is over.”
“Yes.”
“But … Jasmine? When? I’ve never even seen you spend
time together.”
I fix my gaze on one of the takeout cartons, opening and closing the little tabs. “It’s, uh, complicated?”
“It’s not that complicated,” Kiki says with a snort. “Jasmine’s dad is Anya’s boss. Jasmine’s the girl Lara lived with all summer. God, do you guys ever listen to my podcast? You would be so much better at detective work if you did.”
“Nicely done, Kiki,” my mom calls from the living room, where she’s apparently been listening to this entire conversation.
“Why, thank you,” Kiki calls back.
Facepalm.
“So, you guys have been a couple this whole time?” Shannon asks.
“Of course not. No. I was very much with Chase until a few hours ago. And I’m not with Jasmine,” I add quickly, partly because I’m not and partly because I don’t know if going to prom on Kiki’s arm counts as outing herself, but I’m certainly not doing it for her. “I just … have feelings. Of the confusing and complicated and definitely shouldn’t be dating someone else while I have them variety.”
Gia nods. “Got it. I think.”
I turn to Shannon. “And you? Still mad? Less mad? More mad?”
She blinks and it seems to take forever, long enough that I’m afraid she’s going to walk right out of my house and leave us with an extra portion of dumplings. Especially when her mouth twists into a frown.
And then she opens her mouth.
“Okay, I feel like I’m falling behind on coolness by not being into girls now. This may have been a very missed opportunity in Paris. I still have time to catch up in college, right?” She looks from me to Kiki, like we’re somehow gurus in the Art of the Gay. “I mean, art girls are all free and into expression and whatever, right? Wasn’t Frida Kahlo bi?”
I gawk at her.
“What?” she asks innocently, gathering the plates and cutlery back up.
“How did this become about you?”
“Isn’t everything?”