Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(21)

She was right, of course. My breakup with Ben was completely mutual. Technically, verbally, on paper, and any way you looked at it.

I don’t know why it always felt like Ben dumped me.

The point is, Mikey was different. I felt fine, for the most part. Maybe my heart did a little jolt every time I scrolled past his name in my texts, but it’s not like I was moping or pining. Sometimes I’d even go hours without thinking about him.

Until Christmas Eve.

I swear, it hit me out of nowhere. My parents were watching Home Alone for the twenty billionth time while I swiped through TikTok and texted memes back and forth with Ethan. But then Macaulay Culkin walked into a church.

I think I stopped breathing for a second. It was like a cartoon anvil crashing down.

The choir was singing “O Holy Night.”

And suddenly, all I could think about was that night in October, when my friend Musa roped a bunch of us into waking up before dawn to watch some meteor shower. Not going to lie—at first, I was really grouchy about it. I was only half-awake, it was fucking freezing, and I didn’t really get the point of meteors to begin with.

But then we got to Foss Hill, and something shifted in my head. Lots of people were out there lying on blankets with extra blankets on top, like the world’s biggest sleepover. And it was really nice tucking in right beside Mikey, gazing at the sky and holding hands under the covers. He told me about his niece, and what it was like to have much older siblings, and how lonely he was when they all left for college. In the month or so that I’d known him, I’d never heard him speak this much at once. It was the first time I’d noticed his very faint accent, the lilt in his voice on the short o sound. It made me want to kiss him every time he said Boston.

He talked about Christmas and how much he loved it, and how he used to sing with his church choir. He hated when they did “Joy to the World” because it was too melodically simple, but “O Holy Night” was his favorite. So I told him how we used to sing that song in school chorus, and I loved when the notes got really high at the end, but I’d always have to mouth the word “Christ” instead of singing it, because I didn’t want God to think I was a bad Jew.

Mikey turned to face me when I said that. “A bad Jew?”

“For cheating on him with Jesus.”

I was hoping to make Mikey laugh, but he didn’t. He just gazed at me, half smiling, like he was starting to realize my brain was just one big surprise egg full of mystery weirdness, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing at all.

I tried to memorize the lines of his face in the starlight. We’d kissed a few times before at that point, but something about that moment seemed to cut deeper than kissing.

So there I was two months later, on the couch between my parents, thinking, O holy fuck.

I missed him.

Which is how I ended up in Boston a week later, begging Mikey for a do-over. To let me get it right this time. To be actual, official boyfriends.

Mikey McCowan, my actual, official boyfriend.

Therefore, Ben Alejo is welcome to mail his eyes and freckles and his fucking cute bright blue pants straight back to the universe. Return to sender.

“And the weirdest thing,” Ben says, “is that I didn’t even know you were going to be here until literally that day. I don’t know how I missed that.”

“It’s—yeah, it’s recent. Kind of a surprise job offer.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” he says, smiling so fondly at me that I blush.

“Yeah, me too.”

Ben starts to speak—but then his eyes drift up and his mouth snaps shut, and a dark-haired boy appears out of nowhere. He drops two boxes on the ground next to Ben. “Sorry, sorry! Don’t be mad. I’m here!”

He grabs both of Ben’s cheeks playfully and kisses him quickly on the lips.

Every molecule of air leaves my lungs.

“Hi!” says the boy, extending his hand. “Mario.”

Mario. My head’s spinning. Mario? I’ve never heard Ben even mention the name Mario when he wasn’t talking about Nintendo. And I’ve never seen this guy in my life. He’s not in any of Ben’s photos on Instagram. Believe me, I’d fucking remember that, especially if the guy looked like this.

Because this boy is holy-shit-level cute. Or hot. Probably hot’s the right word. He’s got these big hazel-brown eyes and a movie-star face and a wide-open smile, and he’s wearing half-buckled overalls over a tank top, like he just wandered off someone’s backyard chicken coop in Brooklyn. He’s got really nice arms, too. Not in a jacked-up bodybuilder way, but he definitely looks like he’s seen the inside of a gym. And he’s at least half a foot taller than me. And—

I realize with a start that I’m supposed to shake his hand. “Hi! Arthur. I mean, I’m Arthur.” I blink.

“Wait. Arthur like Arthur?”

Okay, so Ben’s new boyfriend knows about me, which is just . . . so funny. Hilarious, even. Mario knows me by name, and I didn’t even know he existed.

Ben smiles uncomfortably and shrugs, and Mario’s whole face lights up.

“No way!” He hugs me tightly and kisses my cheek. “So nice to meet you. Holy shit. Are you here on a trip, or for the summer, or what?”

“For the summer,” I say. To Mario. To Ben’s boyfriend. Because Ben has a boyfriend. “I have an internship with this queer director and playwright, Jacob D—”