What If It's Us(67)

“Been a while,” Hudson says.

“Yup.”

“I want to talk.”

“About what?”

Hudson takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about us. I know that’s done because of everything, and I . . . I saw a group picture of you at karaoke with Dylan and some guy—”

“You were looking into me? Aren’t you hashtag moving on—”

Damn. I outed myself. Guilty of the same crime.

Hudson grins. “You checked up on me too. Maybe we can just catch up instead of getting all life updates on Instagram. Try and be friends again. Harriett wants to hang too. She also misses you.”

Goose bumps run up my arms. I don’t like that Hudson has any effect on me. He’s the guy who kissed me and had sex with me and told me secrets and let me think something serious was going to happen. Everything would be so much easier if I could just be one of those ex-boyfriends who was happy that Hudson misses me and not care because I have an even more amazing boyfriend. But I really do want to be his friend. Harriett too. And the only reason I really, truly regret dating Hudson is because we couldn’t break up and be friends again. Maybe we can bounce back.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m having dinner with Arthur and Dylan later, but we can go chill for a bit.”

“Cool. No strings attached or weirdness,” Hudson says. “Maybe some weirdness.”

“Some weirdness is okay,” I say. “But I’m running when it gets too weird.”

“Like that time we kept calling Harriett ‘Mom’ like her followers?”

“Exactly. I mean, she’s seventeen. How is she a mother to all these fourteen-year-olds?”

Wow, maybe this will be a good thing. I’ll get my friends back and tell them all about Arthur, and if it’s not too weird for Arthur, maybe there’s a chance they can meet him before he leaves. Might be tough talking Arthur into that one, but I think he’ll come around. We can make it a group hangout with Dylan and Samantha too.

Mr. Hayes is heading out, and I promised my parents I’d get an update on my progress. “I’ll see you guys outside,” I say, getting up and chasing after him. He’s very fast for someone on crutches, and I’m convinced he’s not participating in a Spartan Race because he wouldn’t want to hurt the fragile male egos of his opponents.

“Mr. Hayes?”

“Yeah?” Mr. Hayes asks as we slowly go down the stairs.

“Can I help you with your bag? Or crutch?”

“I got it. Thanks. So what’s up?”

“Are you liking my chances of passing next week’s final? I really don’t want to get left back.”

“I know school during the summer is no water park, but it’s important you study extra hard over the next week. You’re not failing the quizzes, but . . .”

“I’m not acing them either,” I say. Legit feel like I can throw up. If I suck at homework when I have the internet and textbooks at my disposal, then I’m going to completely fail when it’s just me and the blank page.

“You’ll get there, Ben. I’m going to be staying late a couple days next week for extra guidance. I do recommend spending extra time studying every night as we lead up to the final. Maybe get a group together and quiz one another,” Mr. Hayes says.

We walk outside the building. I’m about to ask which days he’ll be doing the extended classes when I see Arthur standing underneath a store’s awning, hiding out from the rain. He’s waving and smiling. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but my heart is hammering even harder than before.

I have to get rid of him.

“Okay-Mr.-Hayes-thanks-bye-be-careful-with-your-leg-the-steps-are-wet.”

I almost bust my ass running to Arthur, and he rushes toward me.

“Hey.” I grab his hand and drag him back under the awning. I hug him and kiss him and spin him so his back is to the school’s entrance. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I’m ‘out sick,’” he says with air quotes. “Skipping for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to be with my boyfriend before his parents get home. I was thinking we could try again. You know.”

I keep looking to the entrance. Mr. Hayes passes us on his way to the train.

“Study hard,” Mr. Hayes says, leaning in for a fist bump.

“You got it,” I say. Is it possible to sweat while your face is already wet?

If I get out of this, I’m going to set everything right. Come on, universe.

“Who’s that guy?”

I don’t see Hudson, but maybe he came out the side exit. “Who?”

“The one you were talking to. The guy on the crutches.”

“Oh! Mr. Hayes. Yeah. That’s my teacher.”

“Cool.” Arthur is smiling. “So should we—”

“BEN!”

I could throw up. Hudson runs down the steps and please, please, please fall and don’t get up until Arthur and I are long gone. Arthur turns and he squints and it’s too late. It’s all too fucking late.

“Harriett can’t join us,” Hudson says, walking up to me. He turns to Arthur. “Hey, wait. You’re the panini guy, right? Ben, he’s the guy I met at Panera a few weeks ago—”