Ship It(46)

“What?” he asked.

I just looked at him, not having any words. The TV had gone dark, a logo bouncing around on the screen. His parents were making dinner for us upstairs.

“What, Claire? Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” He tipped his head down and looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed into that pout that I’d seen him do before. His eyes were blue and intense, and I think he probably knew that they had an effect on people. “I see the way you look at me,” he said with a slight smile.

It was true, I had looked at him a lot. I had liked his arms, his muscles, his wavy hair. I had liked his dumb folded-over hats. I had liked his jeans, and how they wrapped around his butt. I had liked his saunter-y walk and the casual way he had rolled up to my locker and asked if I wanted to hang out, like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t upending the entire high school social structure with a simple offer. Like we were allowed to talk to each other.

For an afternoon, it was almost something, until he undermined it.

“I want a ride home,” I said.

He swore and balked, but eventually gave me a silent, angry ride back to my house.

As I got out of the car, my hands shaking around my JanSport, I heard him mutter under his breath, “Only trying to do you a favor.”

That night, I ignored my parents, took my dinner straight to my room, and turned on the TV for noise.

That’s the night Demon Heart premiered.

I watched it and became obsessed. With Smokey, with Heart, with their love.

The way Smokey kisses Heart in fanfiction, it’s like everything I wanted Kyle Cunningham to be.

SmokeHeart kisses are enormous, emotional affairs. Years of longing built up behind a dam that bursts, and unleashes a wave of emotion spilling out onto each other all at once. SmokeHeart is about two people connecting, on equal terms. It’s about caring about another person more than yourself.

Does Kyle Cunningham care about anyone other than Kyle Cunningham?

The wind picks up off the Willamette and tosses my hair back. I sneak a peek at Tess, who pushes her hair out of her eyes. The streetlights hit her soft, curved, dark cheeks, giving her a gentle glow.

What would kissing Tess be like?

Tess is no Kyle Cunningham. She’s no Mr. Washington, no Curtis from trig class, no Forest Reed, either. Tess is brightness and life.

I realize with wonder that this feels like a real date, not a watch-Netflix-and-grope afternoon in a basement. Maybe my future will be full of dates and nighttime walks along rivers and waffles-for-dinner-just-because-we-feel-like-it. Mr. Washington seemed to think it would be. For the first time, I wonder if he was right.

“Can I ask you a question?” Tess asks, tipping her head back to look at the moon as we walk.

“Sure,” I say.

“What’s the first fic you ever read?” She shoots me a conspiratorial smile.

“Oh man, no way.”

“C’mon!” she protests, laughing.

“Are you kidding? Too embarrassing. We barely know each other!”

“Yeah, but I feel like you already know me better than my friends back home do,” she says, and she’s kidding, but I can tell she’s kind of not, also. She looks at me shyly, and it makes me want to tell her, but then I remember what the answer is, and I just can’t do it.

“You first,” I say.

“Cheating, but okay. So. It was the summer I was eleven. My brother had given me a Jonas Brothers album for my birthday…”

“Oh no.” I clutch my face in embarrassment. I can already tell where this is going. Tess is laughing, too, totally aware of how shameful this is, but she barrels forward anyway.

“It was a tough summer for me. My boobs had just—BOING. And my best friend at the time, Harper, was dating this lifeguard, so she wanted to spend the whole summer at the pool and I couldn’t find a swimsuit that didn’t completely mortify me.” She shakes her head, taking a minute to relive it. “So I was alone a lot that summer,” she continues, her voice a little rougher than it was before. “I spent a lot of time in my room, sitting on my bed, listening to that damn CD on my pink-and-purple boom box. There was something about the Jonas Brothers that just…helped. I could create a whole world around their songs that was just in my head, that no one else knew about. All for me.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. She could be describing any number of my own summers in Pine Bluff, not going out, just diving inward, into my own brain, into my computer, into my fandom.

“So I started reading JoBro fanfic. First the ones where they fall in love with Miley Cyrus, or a fan or something. The self-insert stuff was fun because no one ever writes about Nick Jonas falling for a black girl, but if it was written in first person, I could imagine she was me.”

I nod. I get it, but I don’t get it. That’s something I haven’t had to deal with.

“But anyway, then I read this slash fic…” Her eyes sparkle with delight.

“Tess!” I interject.

“I know!”

“They are brothers.”

“I know, I know, but slash is just so much more interesting. And when you’re in Jonas Brothers fandom, the best slash is, you know, brother!fic.”

I bust up laughing, I can’t help it. Of course I relate. I couldn’t tell you a single Jonas Brothers song, but I’m sure if I’d received that CD at that time in my life, the exact same thing would’ve happened to me. Tess is laughing, too, and her smile is a lantern in the darkness, lighting up everything around us.