Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(38)

Ben holds his mozzarella stick aloft. “The playlist?”

“No, the I-love-you thing. We haven’t said it yet.”

“Oh!” He blinks. “Sorry, I just figured—”

“No, you’re fine. Yeah, we’re just . . .” God, I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. But Ben’s looking at me, waiting to hear the rest of my bullshit. “Like, I’ve thought about it. Obviously, I love him. I just don’t know if I’m—” I stop short.

“If you’re in love with him?”

I shove a giant bite of French toast in my mouth, scanning the room as I chew. Maybe a waiter’s about to break into song right now? Maybe a nice, loud, full-ensemble number? Anyone?

“You don’t have to answer that,” says Ben.

I swallow. “I know.”

Something flips in my chest when our eyes meet.

I quickly look away. “It’s just hard to pin down sometimes. I always thought love was a certain feeling, and it’s either there or it’s not. But with Mikey, it’s just . . .” I tilt my palms up, looking back up at Ben.

He doesn’t reply. He just furrows his brow and watches me.

“But I don’t actually think it’s supposed to feel like Broadway, you know? It’s not a rom-com. It’s just, I don’t know. Real life. He makes me happy. And I love who he is as a person.”

“He seems great.”

“He is.” I smile. “Like, he’s really funny, but he’s so quiet that hardly anyone knows he’s funny. So you feel like you’re in on a secret. And he’s so smart. And he can sing—sorry, I know I sound like a checklist.”

“No, I get it,” says Ben.

“It’s just . . . I think about it a lot, actually. I keep trying to add it all up in my head. Like at what point does all of this mean I’m in love with him?”

Ben wrinkles his nose. “Why are you trying to turn love into a math problem?”

“I’m not, I swear!” I laugh. “I just wish I knew is all? I keep waiting for it to click or something, and maybe that’s not—I don’t know. I’m probably doing this wrong. I’ll probably look back in a year and say, ‘Wow, I was in love with him the whole time,’ right?”

I shift in my seat, feeling squirmy and strange. I’ve never said any of this out loud before, and now I wish I could snatch the words back out of the air. All these questions about Mikey, these tiny back-burner thoughts in my head. It’s like they’re highlighted and bolded, stamped all over my face: ARTHUR DOESN’T KNOW HIS OWN HEART.

The thing is, two years ago with Ben, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

I shake the thought away, turning brightly to Ben. “Seriously, you should come meet him next weekend,” I say. “Mario, too, of course.”

“Right.” Ben pauses. “Mario’s still going to be in LA.”

“But you’ll be here, right?”

“Yeah. But . . . would that make things weird?”

“What? No way. I know Mikey would love to meet you! He’s heard a lot about you. Not in an overshare way—”

“Of course not. Never.”

“Shut up. I’m just saying.” I grin. “It’ll be fun! Universes colliding! You know, I actually think you guys will hit it off. You have a lot in common.”

“We do?”

“Well, you’ve got me,” I say. “And I’m a lot.”

Turns out, Ben’s startled laugh is still one of the best sounds on earth.





Chapter Thirteen


Ben

Thursday, May 28




Kool Koffee hasn’t changed much over the past couple of years. Samantha’s past regulars still recognize her, sitting at a table by the door with me and Dylan. It’s like she’s some celebrity visiting home, and she still remembers so much about them: “Staying strong with that decaf, Brian?”

“You were so right about going away for school, Greg.”

“Congrats again on the wedding, Stephanie!”

“Do we need to get you a disguise?” I ask Samantha. “Maybe some sunglasses.”

“Ben, do we ask you to put on concealer to hide your freckles?” Dylan asks. “No, because we don’t hide beauty in this house.”

“We’re in a coffee shop.”

“It’s an expression.”

“For people who live together.”

Dylan glares at me from over his double-espresso mocha with two pumps of caramel.

“Hi, I’m still here,” Samantha says, waving. “Anyway, Ben, we keep getting interrupted.”

“By your fans,” I say.

“My adoring friends, yes. So why are you so nervous about meeting Mikey?”

It’s been a few days since seeing Arthur at the diner, but the idea of hanging out with Mikey is still eating away at me. I’ve even had a couple dreams where I’m this third wheel as they make out in front of me. It’s gotten me to the point where I wake up in the middle of the night and try to work, but my escapist world feels polluted with all the King Arturo scenes.

“I don’t know how good I’m going to feel about myself after meeting with Mikey,” I answer.