History Is All You Left Me(17)

“I’ll walk you out.” I help him put his backpack on, any excuse to touch him some more.

“You say that to all the guys you sleep with, don’t you?”

“Only the ones who are stupid enough to love me.”

“So, what, ten dudes?”

“You wish it was only ten dudes.”

Theo and I kiss for approximately the thousandth time this afternoon, and as he walks out, he says, “See you later. Don’t forget that I love you. By the way, in case you were wondering, I still love you. Hey, you rock. Don’t change. If you change I might not love you anymore, which is something I do now. I love you times ten.”

“If you love me, you won’t ever bring math into this again,” I say back, rubbing my nose.

Theo keeps muttering “I love you; I love you” while going down the hall, as if those are the only three words in his vocabulary—and before he can turn the corner to the elevator, he stops and holds his hand to his ear.

I mouth the words he’s waiting for. I add a “too” to bring the word count to four.

Once I close the door, I miss him. It feels extremely pathetic, but I shake it off because it won’t feel that way when Theo and I are together years from now. I feel confident about that. I’m no longer listening to those doubts that make me feel inferior to Theo. And I also believe I’m Theo’s first time because he wanted it that way, and not because I was some trial run for someone worthier of him down the line. I don’t just believe it; I know it.

He said he loves me. I believe that, too. But I want more. I want to know it.

Saturday, June 21st, 2014

Theo’s summer cold—well, let’s keep it real and call it my summer cold since it’s pretty clear how he got sick—is gone, just in time for Denise’s sixth birthday party in Central Park. It’s a Disney princess theme. (What else?) Denise and most of her friends are dressed as Elsa, but calling it a Frozen party wouldn’t be fair to the two Belles and the Mulan in attendance.

“We should’ve dressed up, too,” I say.

“You can’t pull off a dress as well as Denise,” Theo says.

“I should’ve forgotten to show up,” Wade says, back in his glasses as of this weekend, since his contacts finally became unbearable. He waves at us. “Remember me? Wade Church? The one who agreed to come to this kid’s party even though he had something better to do.”

Theo turns to me. “Hey, do you hear something? Like a ghost pretending he has better things to do?”

I feel a little guilty laughing, but not enough that I don’t. Besides, it’s no secret there’s tons of bullying in the Theo and Wade friendship. Everyone is used to this by now, me most of all. Sometimes I’m nervous he’s going to move on to new friends; I’m not that desperate for an even number in our squad.

“Whatever. Just don’t have sex out here or I’m calling the cops.”

That’s another thing: he references our sex life whenever possible.

“There aren’t enough middle fingers in the world, Wade,” Theo says. “But for starters . . .” He flips Wade off twice, nods toward me to do the same, which I do. “Here are four.”

Wade forces a laugh. “Tag-teaming. Fun.”

There’s some truth to that. Now that school is out of the way, Theo and I are planning for the summer. We really, really don’t want Wade to feel like a third wheel, and it seems like we’re failing already. Still, before our summer begins, Theo and I have decided to come out to our parents. And Wade can’t roll with us for that. This belongs to the two of us alone.

My mom and dad are sitting with Theo’s at the picnic table, eating lunch with some of the other parents. They’re laughing and bantering while a horde of Elsas chase Mulan around a tree. I’m a little nervous. More than a little. They’re completely oblivious to the missile we’re about to fire their way.

“Now seems like a good time,” I say.

“Yeah, why not?” Theo turns to Wade. “Okay, kiddo. We’re off to go come out to our parents. Have you received any super legit psychic visions on how this will play out?”

Wade shakes his head. “I predict everything will remain perfect in the perfection that is your life, Theo.”

“Perfect,” Theo says. He throws up a peace sign. “Give us ten minutes. Fifteen if they want to take pictures.”

In my head I correct it to sixteen minutes but keep that to myself.

“All right.” Wade sits on the ground and pulls out his phone. “Hopefully I can Instagram without those Elsas asking me if I want to build a snowman.”

Steeling ourselves, we walk over to the picnic table. We politely interrupt, asking our moms and dads if we can bother them for a second. They follow us to the tree with the birthday balloon tied around it, and we squeeze together in the shade.

“What’s up, guys?” Dad asks.

“We want to update you all on something,” Theo says. The four of them stare at us, but I stop feeling outnumbered when Theo grabs my hand. “We’re dating, and we’ve decided if you’re uncool with it, we’re going to live here in the trees.” The words tumble out of his mouth in such a rush that it sounds like one long word instead of eighteen separate words.

“No, we said we’d live on the pier,” I add.