What If It's Us(56)

But no. None of that matters. I don’t care that Ben’s in summer school. I don’t care if he has a fancy job, and I don’t care if he ends up applying to Yale. I care about how he stood up to that asshole on the subway and how I feel seeing his name in my texts. I care about how much he cared about making my first kiss perfect.

“Ben’s a writer,” I say. “And he’s amazing.”

“No I’m not.” Ben shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“He is. I’ve read his work.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mom says. “What do you write?”

Ben pauses. “Fiction, I guess?”

“Ooh.” Dad sits up straighter. “You know, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

“Oh really?” says Mom.

“I’ve actually been—”

“Oh, I sincerely hope you’re not about to say you’ve been writing the Great American Novel instead of applying for jobs. I really hope you’re not about to say that.”

“Mara, let’s not—”

“Oh wow. It’s late.” I stand, face burning. “I better walk Ben to the elevator.”

Ben looks uncertain. “You don’t have to walk me out. I can just—”

“Oh, I’m definitely walking you out.” I side-eye the hell out of my parents. Dad’s stroking his beard, and Mom clasps her hands, looking slightly abashed.

“Well, Ben, I’m so glad you came,” Mom says finally. “We’ll have to have you here for dinner sometime.”

“Mom,” I say sharply, but then I catch the look on Ben’s face. His eyes are wide, but he doesn’t look horrified. Just bewildered and happy.

“I’m so sorry,” I say as soon as the door shuts behind us.

“Why? They’re really nice.”

“Yeah, for like five seconds at a time, until they start tearing each other’s heads off. I can’t believe they did that in front of you.”

“You mean the Great American Novel thing?”

“Yeah.” I presss my temple. “They’re such assholes to each other.”

“Really? I think your mom was just busting his balls.”

“No, she’s for real. She always does that. She gets on him for not having a job, and then he gets defensive, and it’s nonstop, and I literally wake up every morning thinking today’s the day they’re going to pull me aside for the whole your father and I both love you very much, Arthur, this isn’t your fault, blah blah, et cetera. Like it’s basically inevitable at this point. I don’t even think the universe is rooting for Team Seuss anymore. It’s just a matter of when.”

“God.” Ben looks at me. “Arthur.”

“God Arthur, what?”

“I’m just really sorry. That sucks so much. I didn’t know.”

He pulls me closer and kisses me softly on the forehead, like a butterfly landing. I might actually melt. I look up at him and smile. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to be fine.”

“I’m just sorry you had to see them being weird and awkward.”

“Mine are weird and awkward, too. You’ll see.”

And just like that, the awfulness vanishes. Because WOW. Ben Alejo . . . wants me to meet his parents. I’m going on the hometown date. I grin up at him, trying to think of the perfect flirtatious-but-not-too-flirtatious response. But then Ben says, “Now I want to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just breathing. He looks terrified.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I say quickly. “I mean. Unless you want to.”

“I want to.”

My stomach’s doing cartwheels. Is he . . . about to say what I think he’s going to say? It feels soon. But I guess New Yorkers don’t really mess around. I should plan my response. Do I say it back? Is it weird if I don’t? But why wouldn’t I? Seriously, why the fuck not?

“It’s about summer school,” he says.

I stare at him. Wow. I think I could burn this whole city down with my cheeks right now. Am I just a thirsty dipshit, or am I the literal thirstiest dipshit to end all dipshits? God help me if Ben ever finds out that I thought—I actually thought he was going to— Anyway. Summer school.

“What about it?” I ask.

“It’s . . .” He pauses. “Okay, I just want to say first that Hudson and I are really, really over. We’re not even friends anymore. You know that, right?”

“I know.” I take both his hands. “Let me guess. Hudson was a jerk about summer school.”

Ben looks at me strangely. “Wait.”

“He’s an asshole. I’m sorry, Ben, I know he was a part of your history and everything, but fuck him. There’s nothing wrong with summer school, okay?”

“I know. Yeah. Okay—”

“No, it’s not okay. How dare he make you feel like that. I don’t care if he made straight As. I don’t care if he’s a Rhodes Scholar. He doesn’t deserve you. He never deserved you.”

Ben stares down at the carpet. “I should call the elevator.”