Look Both Ways(50)

We’re probably being insufferable, but I don’t even care. This kind of behavior has always driven me crazy in other people, but it doesn’t seem nearly so bad now that I’m the one doing it.

Love or Hate becomes a thrilling, nerve-racking physical game that Zoe now initiates almost every night. Instead of discussing how we feel about performance art or ghost stories or moments from our childhoods, her hands and mouth wander across my body in the dark. Every time she touches me in a new way—her lips on my bare stomach, her nails on the backs of my thighs—she whispers, “Love or hate?” I whisper back, “Love,” every single time, as if it’ll drown out the anxiety that bubbles up inside me. Zoe knows doing this stuff with a girl is new to me, and she doesn’t complain when I gently push her hands away before they can sneak too far up my shirt. But when she finally snuggles against me and drifts off, I always lie awake for hours, wondering if I’m doing this right. Honestly, I think I’d be satisfied if we never went any farther than we did after Pandemonium, but I know she doesn’t feel that way. Every night, I try to silence the little voice in my head that accuses me of not giving her enough. I tell myself it’s okay to need time. I tell myself I’ll probably be ready for more tomorrow.



On the one-week anniversary of Pandemonium, I’m lying next to Zoe in bed, combing my fingers through her hair and recounting my Se?or Hidalgo rehearsal, which involved two hours of performing “slam poetry.” She laughs like she usually does, but she seems distracted, and when I pause to remember some particularly abysmal rhyme, she cuts me off. “Do you want to come out to dinner with Carlos and me tomorrow night?”

I freeze, silky blond strands tangled around my fingers. “What?”

“He’s getting in around seven. Did you forget?”

“I mean, you haven’t mentioned it all week, so I thought…” I trail off because my chest feels too tight to squeeze any more words out. Inside my head I say, I thought you’d canceled the trip. I thought I was enough for you.

“I should’ve reminded you,” she says. “It’s okay if you’re not free, but I really hope you are. I want him to meet you right away. He’s going to love you.” She kisses the tip of my nose.

I pull back. “Does he know about me?”

“Of course,” she says. “I talk about you constantly. You know that.”

“I mean, does he know about us? About…the stuff we’ve been doing this week?”

“Yeah, I told him. We promised to be honest with each other. He’s okay with it, I think.”

“Really?” If I were Carlos, I wouldn’t be okay with it. I’ve been with her for only eight days, and I already feel incapable of sharing her with anyone else.



“I don’t know. I think it’s different because you’re a girl. I think he’s relieved I haven’t found another guy, honestly. So? Will you come? I really want you to.”

I want her to work to convince me, so I say, “Won’t you want time alone with him?”

“We’ll have plenty of time alone. I don’t have rehearsal on Friday, so we’re driving up to the Catskills and going camping. We’re coming back early Saturday morning.”

I really want her to stop saying “we” and meaning her and someone who’s not me. “Are we allowed to leave campus like that?” I ask.

“I don’t see why not. If we don’t have a crew call or a rehearsal, nobody cares where we are. It’s not like they’re doing bed checks or anything.”

I have the day off on Friday, too, and it strikes me that if Carlos weren’t coming, Zoe and I could’ve had an entire day alone together. I’ve never been camping before; she could’ve taken me. The idea of sleeping on the ground has never really appealed to me, but I’d be totally willing to sleep on the ground in Zoe’s arms.

“Sorry. I thought I’d told you this already,” Zoe says. “It’ll be nice to have the room all to yourself, though, right? To have some privacy for once?”

She’s trying too hard, and it’s obvious she’s aware of how weird this situation is. She probably just doesn’t want to acknowledge that I’m upset, since that would validate my feelings.

“I’ll come to dinner tomorrow,” I say. Knowing Zoe and Carlos are alone together would probably be even worse than watching them interact.



“Good. I’m so glad. I think you’re really going to like each other.”

I fake a yawn and roll away from her, and she doesn’t make any effort to keep me awake like she usually does.

The next day’s crew call feels endless. I spend the entire time sorting washers by size and giving myself an ulcer thinking about the evening ahead. Russell asks if I want to hang out later, and I seriously consider saying yes and ditching Zoe and Carlos. But that’s the cowardly way out, and I know Zoe will respect me more if she thinks I’m mature enough to handle this open relationship thing. I ask Russell if we can hang out over the weekend instead.

When I get back to the room to change for dinner, Zoe’s perched on her bed in a short turquoise dress. “Hey!” she says, chirpier than usual. “He’s, like, ten minutes away. Will you be ready by then?” She gets up and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, but when I put my hands on her waist, she pulls away and starts messing with her already-perfect eye shadow in front of the mirror. Maybe making out with me feels more like cheating now that Carlos isn’t across the country.