Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(88)

“And I want to tell you it’s okay that you’re leaving and that I’ll get over you, I’m sure it is, and I’m sure I will. But right now?” I shut my eyes for a moment. “I don’t even know what getting over you looks like. I can’t even imagine it, and—God, I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s not fair to you.” I wipe my eyes. “I know. I know it’s not.”

“It’s fine, Art. You’re fine.”

“You know what? I’m gonna go”—I gesture vaguely at the door—“so you don’t have to figure out what to say or how to say it. Just know—I get it. I do, and I’m going to find a way to not be in love with you. Eventually. So.” I shoot him a faltering smile. “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding. Bye, Ben.”

I take a shaky, deep breath, and then I walk out the door.





Chapter Thirty-Five


Ben

Wednesday, July 8




What was I supposed to say when Arthur confessed that he loved me?

Was still in love with me?

I’ve been speechless since last night. After he left, I just stood in the entryway, staring at the door he’d just shut. Thinking about the door he’d just opened. I couldn’t wrap my head around it then, and I still can’t. It just doesn’t feel possible that he said those words out loud. To me. Here I was, so convinced he’d be in Boston by the end of the week, begging Mikey for a do-over. Just like last time.

But now he says he’s not over me. He can’t even imagine getting over me.

And I let him walk out.

I should have chased him.

No, I shouldn’t have.

There’s a time for big love confessions and it’s not right before I’m about to leave for Los Angeles with someone I really, really like. I didn’t ask for Arthur to swoop in like it’s the last act in some Broadway show. I’m not a character. I’m a real person whose heart he stomped on when he got back together with Mikey.

I never told Arthur how I’d found a Greyhound bus to New Haven for fifteen dollars. I was going to try to surprise him. My first time leaving New York. I couldn’t stop imagining the way his face would light up when I stepped off the train, imagining what it would feel like to finally kiss him again. I was so sure things were just about to fall into place for us.

And then he called me from the airport the day before New Year’s.

It was like someone turned a knob and made the entire world dimmer. Like my heart was cracking straight down the middle. I’d never felt heartbreak like that before, not even when I watched Arthur walk away from the post office on his last day in New York. I spent all of January in a black hole. I don’t even think Arthur knows that.

The thing is, Mario’s the only thing that’s made me feel almost normal in months.

Now all I can think of is Arthur with his hands pressed to his chest. Because for me, it’s always you. You’re the point of every story.

I keep drafting texts in my head, but then I triple-guess every word before I can even think about sending them. Knowing Arthur, he’s dying to hear from me. But if I’m not reaching out to say I love you too, then what’s the point?

I need time to figure out my feelings.

There’s a knock at my bedroom door.

“Entra, por favor,” I say.

My parents come into my bedroom. Ma has a plate of crackers smothered in peanut butter. Pa looks around at all the boxes, and I swear he’s fighting back tears.

“Aquí estás,” Ma says, handing me the snacks.

“Gracias.”

I barely have an appetite, even after skipping breakfast. I just want to pack myself into a box and hide in the darkness.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Pa says.

I look up at him. “About what?”

“Moving?” Pa says. “We haven’t rented out your room yet.”

“Oh. Right.”

Ma sits on the floor beside me. “I won’t bother asking you if you’re okay because I know you’re not.” She brushes my hair. “Talk to us, mijo.”

I don’t even deny that I’m not okay. I just avoid eye contact because I feel like I might crack and I’m trying to be stronger than this. I’m surrounded by boxes because I’m supposed to be—no, I am leaving for Los Angeles. Things are finally on track with Mario, and Arthur’s confession is creating traffic so I can’t move forward. That’s not fair. Not after he got to have a whole other relationship before realizing he wants to be with me.

Pa joins us on the floor. “We’re always going to be here for you, Benito, even when you’re not here with us. Except you’re going to be three hours behind us in California so do not call us after nine p.m. because your mother and I will be asleep.” He pats my back. “Talk to us while we’re all here together.”

I’ve spent so much time lately wishing I had more space from them. Things will be different when I can’t step out of my bedroom and find them on the couch.

“Uh. So . . .” I take a deep breath. “Last night Arthur said he’s still in love with me.”

My parents exchange a look. Like they’re trying to figure out who responds first. Then I think it’s more than that. It reminds me of a couple years ago when I came home with the news that I had to go to summer school. They knew my grades had suffered. They weren’t surprised. And I don’t think they are now either.