Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(37)

Ben studies me for a moment before answering. “Decent. I’ve had better.”

“Coffee snob. You’ve clearly been spending too much time with Dylan.”

He laughs, but there’s this edge to it.

“Wait, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, totally,” Ben says quickly. “He’s just—I don’t know. He’s been sort of distant lately.”

“Distant?” I tilt my head, thinking about Dylan’s claw-machine antics. “Like distant from reality?”

Ben laughs. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well, talk me through it.”

“It’s just . . .” He pauses. “I mean, I’m probably reading way too much into things. I’m sure he’s just busy. Which is great, because so am I.”

“You’ve got Mario now,” I say, nodding—but the look on Ben’s face sends my stomach into free fall. “Okay, I feel like that came out weird.”

“No—”

“I just mean that I’m happy for you. Mario seems awesome, and I’m glad you have a boyfriend who makes you happy.”

“Oh—that’s not. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s . . . not?”

“Not officially,” Ben adds, and I’m pretty sure he’s speaking English. But there’s this lag before the words sink in. It’s almost like I’m waiting for a live closed-captioned translation.

Did Ben just say Mario isn’t his boyfriend?

It doesn’t compute. I’m not trying to be dense, but I saw them kissing—in broad daylight. Which is what you do with your boyfriend, not some random guy you’re hooking up with. Okay, there might have been a modest amount of daylight kissing before Mikey and I were official, but not at the goddamn post office. I’m sorry, but there are two and only two reasons to kiss at a post office. Either you just got proposed to via flash mob, or you’re saying goodbye to your first love before you head back home to Georgia. Anything else is just gratuitous PDA.

“Arthur?”

I look up with a start. “Hmm?”

“Why are you doing big eyes?”

“Those are just my eyes.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “You think I don’t know what your eyes look like?”

My heart leaps into my throat—which makes no sense whatsoever. Eyes, Arthur. This isn’t an intimate statement. He’s not talking about your dick. Strangers on the subway know what your eyes look like.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to be scandalized about it,” Ben says. “It’s what Mario and I both want. Things are good, we have fun together, and we make each other happy. We just haven’t quite reached the no-I-love-YOU-more stage like you and Mikey.”

“Wait, what?”

“Hello, New York!” booms an amplified voice. I whip around sideways in my seat, craning my neck—there’s a waiter with a microphone standing directly behind me on the booth divider. “Looks like you’ve wandered into Eileen’s Galaxy Diner!” Cheers erupt from every corner of the dining room. “I’m Blair, but I’m about to turn the microphone over to my friends Kat and Dana—”

I glance back at Ben. “Our Kat?”

“Who are going to—okay, Dana’s dropping off some drinks, but then they’re going to dazzle you with their extraordinary talent. Are you ready, Dana? Yes! Okay! This is . . . ‘Dance with You’ from The Proooom!” Blair hops off the divider as the opening notes of background music start to play. When I turn back around, Kat’s standing a few feet behind Ben, clutching a microphone in both hands. Ben twists his chair sideways, which gives me the perfect profile view of his mouth falling open when Kat starts the first verse.

“Holy shit.” He turns back to me. “Are they all this good?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, well, I’m impressed.”

I laugh. “I am, too! I just mean everyone here’s amazing. You’ll see.”

But the truth is, I don’t even notice when the vocals switch to Dana. I can’t keep the music in focus; I keep drifting back to what Ben said about Mikey. The no-I-love-you-more stage? Does he really think Mikey and I are that serious? Obviously we’re serious in the sense that we call each other boyfriends and have sex sometimes. But love? And for Ben to just assume that?

There’s an explosion of cheering when the song ends. Kat shows up with our food a minute later, and I’m treated to yet another intriguing performance: Ben Alejo in the nonverbal role of Fanboy Visibly Losing His Shit.

“I can’t believe you’re having your Broadway awakening at this very moment.”

Ben grabs a mozzarella stick. “If you say so.”

“Pretty sure I know the hip hooray and ballyhoo when I hear it.”

Ben looks at me blankly.

“‘Lullaby of Broadway’? From 42nd Street?”

“Oh, does the awakening come with a full encyclopedia of obscure Broadway references?”

“Did you just call 42nd Street obscure?” He tilts his palms up. “Ben, it won a Tony. And then the revival won a Tony.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Unacceptable. I’m making you a playlist. No, you know what? I’m making you a whole playlist of playlists. One for ballads, one for love songs—” I feel my cheeks go warm. “Oh, and just so you know, Mikey and I haven’t discussed that yet.”