Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(61)

“Absolutely,” he says.

“Okay, here’s how we do this.” Mario hops up, turning to Dylan. “You come with me. We’ll find some options and send photos to Groomzilla.”

“Super Mario, I’m all yours,” Dylan says—but then he whirls around to grab Ben by the sleeve of his jacket. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to the dressing room?”

“Absofuckinglutely not.” He pokes Ben in the shoulder. “Don’t you dare change out of that until Frantz sees you. I’ll be right back.”

Ben rolls his eyes and plops onto the couch beside me. But a moment later, he stands, removes his jacket, and sits stiffly back down. “I really didn’t come here expecting to play dress-up.”

“Well.” I blush. “You look great.”

“Thanks. I just feel so bad. This guy Frantz set us up in here, and he was so nice. I hate that I’m making extra work for him for no reason.”

“He’ll understand. People try on suits all the time,” I say. At least, I’m pretty sure those words came out of my mouth, in my voice.

I can’t remember if I’ve seen Ben in just a button-down and tie before. And I think the last time I saw Ben in a suit was when we FaceTimed each other from our respective bathrooms before senior prom. It’s just kind of a lot to take in.

When Dylan comes back, he’s got four or five ties draped over his shoulders like a tallit. Mario jogs in right behind him—but he does a double take as soon as he sees Ben and me, yanking his phone out of his pocket. “Whoa!”

Ben tilts his head. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Still staring into the camera lens, he reaches forward and snatches the jacket from Ben’s lap. “Now put your hands back how they were”—he snaps a picture—“because you guys”—snap—“are doing”—snap—“a spot-on”—snap—“reenactment of La La Land right now.”

I laugh abruptly. “What?”

“Look how you’re sitting.” Mario does a chef’s kiss. “And the outfits.”

Dylan’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit.”

“Must be a sign.” Mario leans forward to kiss Ben on the lips.

Ben smiles awkwardly. “Of what?”

“That you’re going to love LA and never want to move back.”

It doesn’t quite compute for a minute. The words aren’t stringing together. LA. Never. Move back.

Dylan’s looking at Ben like he’s never seen him before. “You’re moving?”

Something pulls in my chest. Maybe it’s my veins and arteries unplugging like cords from a socket. Maybe every valve of my heart is going dark.

“Um. Possibly? I guess it depends whether Mario’s show gets picked up.” Ben glances up at Mario. “It wouldn’t be forever. Just to try it out. Change of scenery.”

“What the fuck? Were you going to mention it, or nah?”

“Yes!” Ben flushes. “D, I kind of—I don’t know, I just decided—”

“You just decided to move to California? You’ve never left New York. You wouldn’t even visit me and Samantha in Illinois.”

Ben looks at him incredulously. “You’re mad that I couldn’t—”

“I said I’d pay for it!”

“Well, I’m not cool with that!”

“Right.” Dylan laughs sharply. “But you’re cool with moving to California for this guy you’ve known for, what, two months?”

Ben looks like he might burst into tears. “We’ve been in class together all year! And I’m not—I’m not moving for anyone.”

I tune him out. It doesn’t even feel like I’m here. I feel like I’m watching myself on a jumbotron from fifty yards away.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Ben

Wednesday, June 17




I’ve been summoned to Dream & Bean.

I get out of the train station and finish up my text conversation with Arthur as I walk down the block.

I think Dylan just needed to cool down, I say.

I’ve never seen him so upset, Arthur texts. You turned him into a real boy, Geppetto.

I laugh. And he’s treating me like I’m some big nose Pinocchio! I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell him yet. I stop outside Dream & Bean and snap a picture. Throwback!

Arthur is typing a message. Stopping. Typing. Stopping. Typing. The suspense is getting to me. The text finally comes in: Get Dylan an extra-large iced coffee to cool him down!

He must have deleted something. Maybe even paragraphs of something, and I can’t help but wonder about the text that might have been.

Maybe it was about California.

I wish I knew what Arthur was thinking. He hasn’t really said anything about it so far, other than letting me spiral about Dylan’s reaction. If anything, he’s seemed almost cheerful about it. Which makes sense. Or at least it doesn’t not make sense. Except when I think about how stunned he looked at Bloomingdale’s.

I can’t help but wonder if there’s something he’s not saying. And of course he doesn’t owe me a reaction. He’s allowed to keep things to himself if he wants to. But the thing is, this is exactly how it started last winter. This is how Arthur and I lost each other. And when I think about losing Arthur again . . .