Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(42)

I shake my head. “No way. He’s never early. Ever—” But the word dies on my tongue.

Because there’s a boy walking down Amsterdam Avenue wearing jeans and a dark fitted T-shirt, and it’s unmistakably Ben Alejo. He looks up from his phone, breaking into a smile when he sees us.

He’s twenty minutes early. “Mikey—”

“It’s okay. Seriously.” He starts to stand, but I grab his hand first and squeeze it.

“We’ll talk later,” I say, and it comes out slightly choked. “To be continued, okay?”

He nods wordlessly and adjusts his glasses, and it’s such a familiar Mikey gesture, it makes my throat hurt. When I stand, my legs feel like rubber. Like Gumby.

People do this, right? Boyfriends and friends are supposed to meet. It’s the most normal thing in the world. So why does it feel like I’m trying to squeeze two universes into one solar system? What are my lines here? How do I even phrase the introductions? Guy I lost my virginity to, meet the guy who just said I love you for the first time literally two seconds ago.

“Aren’t you going to give me props for being early?” Ben asks, smiling in this fake-proud way he does sometimes when he’s actually proud of himself but feels weird saying so. When he turns to Mikey, his smile settles into something a little bit shyer. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Me too. I’ve heard . . . a lot about you.”

Ben looks intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

“Hey!” I clasp my hands together so tightly, my knuckles turn white. “Anyone up for ice cream?”





Chapter Fifteen


Ben

Friday, May 29




Third Wheel Time.

I stare at the menu board as if it’s just another night out with my friends, and not my first time meeting my ex-boyfriend’s new boyfriend. His new boyfriend who has apparently heard a lot about me. That’s not a huge surprise—this is Arthur we’re talking about. Arthur who always has to fill the silence.

“There’s so many flavors,” I say.

“Mikey is a pro here,” Arthur says, holding Mikey’s hand like it’s a balloon that he never wants to float away. “What do you recommend?”

“What are you into, Ben?” Mikey asks.

Hearing him say my name tightens my chest. Every second he becomes realer and realer, and I really wish Mario or Dylan or Samantha were here with me right now.

“I keep it simple,” I say. “I’ll be good with strawberry.”

“You have great taste,” Arthur says. “In ice cream,” he adds. “People, too, obviously. Not talking about myself—I mean Mario.”

Mikey and I stare at Arthur. Normally I’d find this funny, but it’s just really awkward.

Arthur points behind the counter. “Do you think they’ll let me cool off in their fridge?”

“Doesn’t seem sanitary,” Mikey says.

Arthur nods. “Right.”

I wonder if this hangout would feel easier if we just addressed the elephant in the room. Yes, Arthur and I were in love. Yes, Arthur and I broke up because we didn’t think long distance would work. Yes, Arthur started dating Mikey and didn’t let distance get in the way. If we’re going to talk about all of this, it doesn’t really feel like my place. They’re the couple, and I’m an add-on tonight.

But I can distract. “You have any flavor recommendations, Mikey?”

Mikey stares at the menu. “Grasshopper Pie is certainly a choice, and I respect everyone’s right to choose, but I personally won’t be choosing that tonight.”

“Me either,” I say with a laugh.

Arthur laughs after, a little too loudly.

“I’m good with any fruit flavors,” I say.

“Goa mango is the best,” Mikey says, his eyes lit up. “My treat.”

I’m suddenly self-conscious that Arthur has talked about how poor I am. “No, please, I got it,” I say. “In fact, let me get yours as a welcome to New York.”

“My treat,” Arthur says. “You guys can go grab a table. Mikey Mouse, the usual?”

“Yup,” Mikey says.

Mikey Mouse? It’s a pretty cheesy nickname. (Shit, no pun intended.) I can’t really judge given that Ben-Jamin is a pretty ridiculous name for a main character, which I can only get away with in a fantasy novel.

Besides, it’s awesome that Arthur has his Mikey Mouse. I have my Super Mario.

Mikey and I settle into a table by the window where we can see a group of people laughing outside of a restaurant and hugging before going off in their own directions.

“So you have a usual?” I ask.

“The mud pie,” Mikey says. “It sounds gross, but it’s coffee-flavored with chocolate chips and crumbled Oreos. You can try mine if you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll let you enjoy it. So are you in New York often?”

“This is my first time in years, actually,” Mikey says.

“Welcome back. Are you planning on seeing any shows?”

Mikey nods. “And some sightseeing.”

Then there’s an awkward silence. I know I haven’t been comfortable with the idea of finally meeting Mikey. Now I wonder how he feels about meeting me. There’s definitely some energy between them. I wouldn’t say it’s chemistry, exactly. (But don’t take the word of a former chemistry summer schooler.) I can see that they care for each other, but I guess I always expected them to be shining bright like Broadway lights. It’s possible I caught them off guard with how early I was. I just didn’t want to be late and make it seem like I wasn’t taking this meetup seriously.