The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(85)

“Just so you know, I legit never walk up on cute guys. I was really trying to live it up.”

“Thank God you— I’m really thankful you made that first move, Orion.”

“Thanks for not scarring me with some huge-ass rejection, Valentino.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me, like I’m the most interesting part about this city.

I grab the camera out of the hoodie’s pocket and point at the bottom corner of the bench. “Go sit. I want to take a picture of the spot where I first met you.”

“I’m not taking that alone. We’re in that together.”

Valentino and I sit on the bench, and I extend my arm, hoping to get the right picture. I’m about to snap one no matter how shitty it is when someone taps my shoulder. It’s an older Latino man sitting beside a young curly-haired kid in glasses; I’m guessing father and son but definitely family.

“Would you like some help?” the man asks.

“Oh, uh, sure. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

We step aside so the man and the kid can get down easily.

The kid seems a little jumpy, like he’s about to hide behind the man. I’m guessing he’s like nine or ten.

“It’s okay, Mateo,” the man says.

I give him the camera, though I feel bad about scaring this Mateo kid, who keeps looking around. I get this heartbreaking feeling that maybe it’s Mateo’s End Day and he’s terrified of dying but he really wanted to people-watch in Times Square before he does. Valentino snaps me out of it when he turns my gaze to him, our eyes locked. The man counts us down from three and instead of smiling for the camera, Valentino leans in and kisses me. It means everything that I’ll have this moment immortalized, and when we pull apart, Valentino is smiling with his eyes closed, as if he’s burning this moment into his memory, as if he’s not going to be able to look over the pictures with me.

“Beautiful,” the man says, handing me the camera. “This will make for a great postcard to send to your family.”

“Not for my family it won’t,” Valentino sadly says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the man says. “I’m happy you’re living your life as you should.”

“Thank you, sir.” Valentino shakes the man’s hand, and I do the same.

I turn to Mateo. “Sorry if we scared you before. Truce?”

I hold out my fist for a pound, but Mateo goes for a handshake. Then as I open my fist he forms his. He’s blushing and seems upset—not pissed like that Rufus kid back at the pawnshop—but disappointed in himself like he can’t do anything right. All that shit is valid, I definitely went through a lot of anger and shame when I was figuring out life without my parents. There were never any magic words that made me feel better when I was deep in it, and I don’t know this kid enough to even try casting some spell on him. I just keep it real.

“Hey, you’re okay,” I tell Mateo.

Mateo doesn’t seem to believe it.

“Come on, son. Let’s head up to the park,” the man says, sensing it’s probably best for Mateo to back out of this situation. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“That’s the goal,” Valentino says with a smile only I understand. We watch the two walk away, the man hugging Mateo close. “It’s nice to see a father care for his son like that.”

“It reminds me of my dad,” I say. I’m so used to talking about my parents so fondly that I forget to filter for Valentino who didn’t get so lucky. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your loving childhood. I know it’s messed up, but I would honestly say I had one too. I can remember what it really felt like for my parents to love me. Tons of gifts under the Christmas tree, big birthday parties, taking care of me when I was sick. We had movie nights where Scarlett and I got to pick what we watched. If Scarlett and I couldn’t agree on one movie, our dad would stay up for double features.” He looks around at Times Square. “I think if I grew up in New York my parents would’ve taken us everywhere. The Statue of Liberty, the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, Radio City, Empire State Building. Here, of course.”

There’s a lot about what Valentino has said that makes me sad, even pisses me off. A parent shouldn’t love you only through childhood, but I’m glad his life hasn’t been total hell. It could’ve been so much better if he had parents or guardians like mine. Maybe if he had grown up in New York we could’ve met sooner. It hurts to think about how much easier and harder his End Day would’ve felt if I’d known him for years.

I can’t start cracking now, I got to stay strong.

“What else do you want to do while we’re out here? Find an artist to draw a caricature of us? Nah, that’s a waste of your time.”

“Sitting next to you isn’t a waste of my time,” he says.

“If you say so . . .” I grab the cash I pocketed from his subway runway and count it out. “Sixty bucks.”

“That bad? I thought I did a better job.”

“You’re shitting me, right? Sixty bucks is amazing. I’m not surprised, look at you.”

“Shall we see how I look after the artist is done with me?”

“Hell yeah.”