Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(47)

“Okay, try this.” Ben passes me a glass full of what looks like melted chocolate. But as soon as I take a sip, I have to clap my hand to my mouth to keep from spitting it out. Ben’s eyes widen. “You okay?”

“Yup! No, it’s good!”

He takes the glass back and sips it. “Yeah, that’s a little strong. Let me mess with the proportions.” I watch him pour in more Godiva, trying not to think about the fact that Ben just sipped from my glass like it was nothing. Isn’t that kind of like a gateway to kissing?

I jump back from that thought so fast, I almost fall flat on my uncle’s kitchen tiles.

The moment my butt hits the couch, Dylan leans toward me. “I was just telling Mikelicious how you sang Ben that song about a rat.”

“Great.” I take a gulp of my drink.

“Look, in retrospect, it was a genius move. You’ve got the serenade, which is already a winner, but then you bring in the whole sexy rat angle—”

Ben shakes his head. “Rats aren’t sexy.”

“Rats are famously sexy!”

I take another swig of my drink.

Dylan pauses. “Oh, you know what? I’m thinking of rabbits.”

“What if you spent less time thinking about animals’ sex lives?” asks Ben.

“My point stands! Let’s not forget what happened after karaoke—”

“Okay!” Ben jumps up. “Mario’s downstairs.”

“I can buzz him—”

“I’ll just let him in. Back in a sec.” Ben practically bolts out the door.

Dylan leans into the cushions, draping a casual arm on the back of the couch. “This is nice, right? Guys’ night. Got my whole gay squad here. You two are adorable.” He waves a hand at Mikey and me, and then he points at the door. “They’re adorable. But you know who’s not adorable?”

“Patrick?”

“Fucking Patrick.” The next thing I know, Dylan’s ripping into Patrick so hard, he could make an entire YouTube comments section blush. But Mikey nods along politely to every single word of it, even past the five-minute mark. Dylan’s still going strong when Ben reappears in the foyer, Mario in tow.

“Oh shit, this place is huge,” Mario says, and even though he’s not being sarcastic, my cheeks flood with heat. I’ll never see the world the way a New Yorker would. I can’t even calibrate space like a New Yorker.

Mario takes the last empty seat, beside Mikey—of course we’re configured all wrong. I hop up. “You guys probably want to sit together, huh?”

“Oh, we’re fine.” He settles in. “Hi! You must be Mikey. I’m Mario—I belong to that one.”

He points to Ben, who looks as startled by his phrasing as I am.

I toss back the rest of my drink and practically leap from the couch for a refill. And even though I’m a little unsteady with the Brita filter, I manage to get water for Mikey and Mario, too. Though now I’ve got to walk back from the kitchen with three full glasses, which feels a little like walking blindfolded through an obstacle course. Except without the blindfold. And I guess the only obstacles are my own feet.

I return to find Mario in the middle of some story about his trip, but he smiles up at me when I hand him his glass. I sit back down beside Mikey.

“It was amazing just being there,” Mario’s saying. “I want to move there one day, you know? Write for TV, the whole dream.”

“We’ve dabbled in TV,” Dylan says grandly. “Me and Bento Box. Made some waves in the reality space in our time.”

“Being Bad Boys?” I ask.

Mario grins. “Wow.”

Mikey shifts uncomfortably beside me, and it occurs to me how quiet he’s been. Overwhelmed by all of this, probably. I feel this sudden wave of affection for him—my wide-eyed lamb of a boyfriend. I lean in so close, I can almost hear his heartbeat. “You good?” I whisper, letting my lips rest for a moment on his flushed cheek. Mikey nods.

Ben stands, glancing down at my drink. “Grabbing a refill. Want me to top you off?”

My head snaps up.

“Your drink.” His whole face lights up red. “I was—”

“That sounds great!” I throw back the rest of my drink with one frantic gulp, before shoving the glass into his hand.



Dylan ends up following Ben into the kitchen, and then Mario and Mikey start talking about Nintendo. So I just lean back against the cushions, listening to them compare notes about turnips and friend codes. It’s the most animated I’ve seen Mikey all night. I’m not even surprised that Mario loves a wholesome nerd game like Animal Crossing, because that’s the kind of cool person he is. He’s so cool, he doesn’t even care if he looks cool. He’s the type who laughs loudly in movie theaters and sings at the grocery store and happily announces his favorite singer is Taylor Swift, because he just loves Taylor’s music, probably because her music is fucking amazing and she’s a goddius, which is a new word I invented just now that means both genius and goddess, but I think I’m skating past the point here, which is that Mario wouldn’t even worry for a second that he’s being too mainstream or basic. Also, even his phone case is cool without trying—just an old-school Mario with a raccoon tail, flying across a sky-blue background. He unlocks the screen now, leaning in toward Mikey. “Okay, wait, pulling up the app.”