Over the next few days, a strange thing happened: I started enjoying my own company more. I’d always spent time by myself, painting and daydreaming, but it was more like punctuation between school or hangouts with Maritza and JaKory. Now it felt like the hours I spent by myself were intentional. I sketched, I painted, I started reading a book on JaKory’s list; I drove to the river by myself and journaled about how it felt to be a teenager, and how it felt to not understand yourself, and how it felt to love people without knowing exactly how they fit into your life.
On Wednesday night, I was lying in bed, sketching whatever came to mind, when my phone buzzed with a text.
Ricky Flint: Can I come over?
My heart leapt.
I met him in my driveway. Everything was quiet and dark and unfurled, much like the first time I’d met him. Neither one of us spoke as we fell into step together, looping around the back of my house to sneak in through the basement door.
I had assumed he wanted to talk about our fight, but the moment we got inside, it became clear he was upset about something else. He buckled onto the carpet, flopping on his back with his hands grabbing at his head.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, just breathed deep with his eyes on the ceiling.
I looked closely at him, taking in his distressed expression. “Can I get you some Tums?”
He rolled his head toward me. “Tums? Why would I want Tums?”
“JaKory’s stomach hurts whenever he’s upset,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t know, I was just trying to help.”
Ricky looked at me for a while, his eyes boring into mine. “I’m sorry.”
I looked back at him. “No, I am.”
“No, Codi, really. You were justified in everything you said. I wanted to be your friend but I haven’t let you be mine. The past few days, I’ve been thinking about some shit, and—and you’re the only person I’ve wanted to talk to about it.”
I lay down next to him, paralleling his body. “What is it?”
He took a deep breath. “I hooked up with someone at orientation.”
The words hung in the space above us. He’d said them matter-of-factly, but I could sense his anxiety.
“Oh, really?” I said, trying to sound steady. “Who was h—I mean, who were they?”
Ricky dragged his hands down his face. “It was a he,” he said, covering his eyes. Then he went still for a second. It seemed like he was hardly breathing. “Damn it, Codi, it was a he.”
We were both silent. The air-conditioning hummed in the background. I watched Ricky’s eyes, his hands, his chest rising and falling.
“His name was Eric. I went out to the bars with this group of people, and he was with them, and I thought he was a cool guy, but I didn’t consider him beyond that. But then we got Chinese food together after the bars closed, and we started talking, and I could just tell he was guarding something. He kept talking about how college was gonna be his fresh start, how he was looking for breathing room, and I said something similar, and then we just … I don’t know, Codi, the next thing I knew we were making out in the dorm room, and he kept saying, ‘I’ve never done this, have you done this?’ and I didn’t know what to do.”
Ricky was looking imploringly at me, as if I could tell him what it all meant. I knew I couldn’t; I also knew it wasn’t mine to make sense of anyway.
“Are you scared?” I asked him.
He let out a long breath. I thought he would look away from me, but he didn’t.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m really scared.”
We stared at each other. Then I said, “Tell me.”
“It’s closing in on me,” he said, his eyes getting wet. “This whole time, I’ve thought maybe I was just this cool, unbound person who was down for anything, girls and guys. But I’m feeling more and more like it’s—like it’s guys—and what if I don’t want that to be true? What if I don’t want to be Ricky the gay guy? What if I just want to be Ricky the football player, the business student, the guy who throws parties for his friends? I keep thinking about the night we met, how it must have looked to you, walking along minding your own business and suddenly there’s this big football player chasing down another dude ’cause he wants to make out with him, ’cause he can’t stop wanting this dude no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he acts like it’s a casual thing … Codi, I don’t wanna be that guy you saw. I don’t want to be that.”
“Ricky,” I said gently, “you’re not that guy. You wanna know how I saw you? I wasn’t walking along minding my own business, I was walking along with knots in my stomach, terrified to go to your party but even more terrified that maybe I wanted to go. I felt like there was some secret knowledge everyone else had that I didn’t have and they would take one look at me and know. And then you appeared out of nowhere and you were everything I wanted to be. You were this cool, rebellious senior who threw a party that everybody wanted to come to, and then you ditched your own party to kiss somebody you really wanted to kiss. And when he freaked out and ran away, you stayed there, looked me straight in the eye, and asked me who I was. That’s the guy you are, Ricky! The guy who goes after things and shows other people how to go after them, too.”
His eyes were red and watery. He wiped them and said, “You make me sound a lot cooler than I am.”
“Maybe you just have a skewed perception of yourself.”
He laughed, still wiping his face. “Who does that sound like?”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Fine. Maybe I’ve been telling myself a story about who I am, and maybe that story isn’t true. But you’ve been doing the same thing.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Do you really like this guy? Eric? Would you be happy if he asked you to hang out?”
Ricky looked off to the side, chewing his lip. He was silent for a full minute, and then he said something very quietly, something that landed pure and vulnerable in the space between us.
“I’d be happier if Tucker asked me.”
It was a huge thing, him saying that. We both stayed silent, letting it settle, letting it breathe.
After about thirty seconds, Ricky looked over at me. We locked eyes, and I nodded.
“What do I do?” he asked.
“What do you wanna do?”
“See him. Talk to him.” He paused. “Go on a date with him.”
“Can you text him and ask him out?”
Ricky shook his head. “That’s too much. We’ve only ever talked in person, when other people have been there. I know this doesn’t make sense, but it feels safer that way.”
“So if you saw him in a group again, could you ask him out?”
“Maybe if I got to talk to him long enough. I’d definitely feel more confident doing that than just texting and asking.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking. “When can you see him in a group again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the next time someone has a party?” He sighed. “But the summer is almost over.”
We fell quiet. I breathed deep, taking it all in, letting his worries swirl around me.
And then I had a wondrous, terrifying idea.
“Ricky…” I said slowly, the idea still taking shape in my mind. “What if … I had a party?”
Ricky looked at me like I was crazy. “What?”
“My parents are going out of town this weekend, for their anniversary. I could have people over.” I paused, trying to make my intentions clear. “Not a ton of people, but enough that Tucker and his friends coming won’t seem like a big deal.”
Ricky’s eyes were wide. “Are you for real, Codi?”
I laughed, surprising myself. “Yeah, I am. My brother’s sleeping at a friend’s house Saturday night, so we could do it then.”
His face broke into a slow, true smile. “Shit. That could actually work.”
“Yeah, it could.” I looked hard at him. “You gotta go for it, though.”
“I will,” he pro
mised.
We grinned at each other, giddy with our own brilliance. Then Ricky asked me something that had been in the back of my mind all along.
“What about Lydia?”
My heart fell as suddenly as it had lifted. “What about her?”
“What do you mean, ‘What about her’? Have you talked to her?”
“No, not since that night. I don’t know how to explain myself to her.”
Ricky narrowed his eyes at me. “Didn’t you hear yourself a minute ago? All that stuff you said about telling yourself the wrong story? Okay, so you got spooked on the swings, but so what? That was just a small version of you. It wasn’t the real you. The real you wants to be with her, so go be with her.”
I wanted so badly to believe him. “But what if I screw it up again? What if I can’t handle it?”
“You can handle it, trust me.” He paused, then rolled onto his side, looking straight into my eyes. “Look, do you wanna know how I saw you the night we met? There I was, thrilled to be making out with this guy, when a girl walks up on us and throws everything for a loop. And then the guy runs away, and the next thing I know, my hand is throbbing and bleeding and it’s my own fucking fault. But you know what this girl does? She pulls me out of it, looks me straight in the eye, and tells me that she likes girls like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say, like we’re the normal ones and the guy who abandoned me just hasn’t figured it out yet. Then she walks me back to my party so I don’t feel so alone. And when I ask her to show me mercy one more time, she goes into the party by herself, even though she’s clearly nervous about it, just so she can bring me some bandages.”
I hung on his every word, my breath catching in my chest.
“This girl took a bad situation and made it better. She showed up for me, she let me see who she was, and she gave me hope that one day I could let other people see who I was, too. And I swear to you that Lydia sees this same girl, Codi, and she’ll be thrilled as hell when you realize that you deserve good things just like everyone else does.”
Now there were tears in my eyes. I breathed against them, grateful and awed. Ricky smiled at me, and we lay there on the floor, talking until all the bad stuff drained away.
17
The next morning, I took a long shower and blow-dried my hair. I picked out one of my favorite outfits. I opened my curtains and looked out at the lush green yards on my street. And after I stood there for a minute, taking it all in, I made a phone call.
“Codi?”
Lydia sounded surprised. I tried to keep my voice from shaking.
“Hi. Um … I know this is out of nowhere, but … could I come see you?”
She was quiet for a long beat. “Right now?”
“Yeah. I wanted to … um … talk to you. I mean, if you’re free. Are you working?”
It sounded like she was walking somewhere. I heard something creak, and then it was quiet again.
“I’m actually not home,” Lydia said. “I mean, like, I’m not in Atlanta.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m at my aunt’s house in Michigan. The whole family’s here.” She paused. “My mom made me bring your portrait. She wanted everyone to see.”
“You’re kidding.”
“They all thought it was amazing.”
Every other time Lydia had complimented my artwork, she’d sounded joyful and energized; this time, she sounded meek. It made my chest ache.
“Lydia?”
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to talk to you about—you know—the night we went out. I know I was weird, and I know I should have called you before now, and I’m really sorry. I could explain right now, but—but I was hoping to talk to you in person. Are you coming home soon?”
“Yeah,” she said tentatively, “we’ll be home tomorrow night.”
“Could I come see you?”
I didn’t even think before I asked; I felt such a rush to see her that the question just poured out of me.
Lydia sounded breathless. “Yeah, okay.”
“Great,” I said, my voice steadier now. “And hey, um … I’m having some people over on Saturday night. Will you come?”
“Okay. Maybe.”
“Great. Okay. Um, well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun in Michigan. I hope you get to play Manhunt with everyone, and I hope you win.”
There was a hint of a smile in her voice now. “Thanks, Codi. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Lydia.”
We hung up, and I looked out over the green yards, and I knew with a bone-deep conviction how tomorrow night was going to go.
* * *
Friday was full of sweet anticipation. I drove along the river with Ricky by my side, listening to one of his early 2000s playlists and finalizing our plans for Saturday night. This party felt like the culmination of everything I wanted to become that summer: a newer, braver, more alive person. The kind of girl who could throw a party where people would shotgun beers and invent new drinking games and make out with someone in the laundry room. I felt grown-up like never before.
There was only one thing missing.
“I was thinking,” Ricky said as I pulled up to the riverbank, “maybe you should invite Maritza and JaKory tomorrow night.”
It was like he’d read my mind. I parked and took the key out of the ignition, looking over at him.
“It’s your house. Your party,” Ricky went on. “They’re your best friends.”
“I know, but I don’t know how I’d explain any of this,” I said, gesturing between us. “They’d be pissed at me.”
Ricky took a deep breath and looked out over the water. “That’s why I thought I should talk to you. Maybe you should … should tell them the truth. Right back to the beginning. This all started with me, so you should tell them about me. Tell them how you walked up on me kissing Tucker that night, and how I begged you not to tell anyone—”
“You didn’t beg me—”
“I asked you, though. And I’m the one who brought you to Taco Mac and introduced you to Lydia. How were you supposed to explain that to Maritza and JaKory if you couldn’t actually explain being friends with me? It’s my fault, and I feel like I should own it. You should tell them.”
I shook my head, staring at the keys in my hand. “It’s not your fault. I could have found a way around it if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep this all for myself.”
“Do you still want to?”
I looked away from him, staring out over the river. “No. I want to be honest with them.”
Ricky’s tone was soft. “You miss them.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“And they’ve got to be missing you, too. I know I did, and I’ve only known you a couple of months.”
I looked down at my phone. I imagined calling Maritza, conferencing JaKory in, and confessing everything about the last two months. The silence that would follow. The hurt they would feel. The pathetic explanation I would try to give.
I would have to come clean sooner or later, but I wasn’t ready for it yet.
“I just want one more day,” I told Ricky. “I want tomorrow night for Lydia and me, and for you and Tucker, and for all the people who have made this summer so meaningful. And then I’ll tell Maritza and JaKory everything.”
Ricky pulled his lips into his mouth. I could tell he was doubtful, but all he said was “It’s your story, Codi. Tell it however you want to.”
* * *
Lydia’s text came late on Friday evening.
Lydia Kaufman aka Jason Waterfalls: I just got home, did you still want to come over?
Definitely. I’ll be there faster than you can say Jason Waterfalls.
My heart pounded like crazy on the drive over. I felt vaguely like I was in one of those movies Maritza, JaKory, and I had watched a million times, right at the end where the girl gets the girl.
It was dark by the time I pulled onto her street. I turned off my AC and stuck my hand out the window, ho
ping the rushing air would clean the nervous sweat off my palm.
And there was her house, quietly beautiful, with the expansive front porch and the wind chimes tinkling beneath the lights. She was sitting in one of the rocking chairs, legs crossed, waiting for me. When I got out of the car, she stood up and lingered at the top of the steps.
“Hey,” I said shakily, crossing the yard, the crickets buzzing all around me.
She was fidgeting as I walked toward her. “Hey.”
“How was your trip back?”
She watched me carefully. In the glow of the porch lights, her flyaway hairs danced like gold. “Is that really what you were dying to talk to me about?”
I reached her and looked up into her nervous face. “No,” I said softly. “Can we sit?”
We sat side by side on the front steps, her hands wrapped around her legs, my hands fumbling with my car keys.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked after a minute. “Natalie said you canceled on the Fourth because you were sick.”
“I wasn’t sick,” I said, looking straight at her. “I said that because I was afraid to see you.”
Her eyes moved between mine. “I know. Why?”
I cleared my throat and stared ahead of me, at the dark road and window-lit houses.
“That night on the swings…” I began. “I didn’t … I mean, I wasn’t sure how to…”
I could sense her body language; she was so careful, so taut.
“I thought … maybe … that you were going to kiss me.”
I took a deep breath and looked at her. She looked back with scared, searching eyes.
“Were you going to kiss me?” I asked.
She swallowed. “Did you want me to?”
My heart was pounding. I couldn’t look away from her clear, vulnerable eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s just … um … I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
It was one of the hardest things I’d ever said, yanked straight from the shame pit inside me. I checked her expression, but she didn’t flinch or widen her eyes the way I’d worried she would. I steadied myself and kept going.
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