What If It's Us
Page 51
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“I may be late to this world, but I will still out-Harry-Potter you,” Samantha says. She grabs the bowl of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. “I propose a Triwizard Trivia Tournament. If you get a question right, you choose your own bean. If you get it wrong, someone chooses for you.”
I play along even though my heart’s not really in it. If I could ace chemistry questions the way I’m slaying this Harry Potter trivia, I would’ve never been in this mess with Arthur because I wouldn’t have been stuck in summer school with Hudson in the first place. Where the fuck is a Time-Turner when you need one? I would go back in time and never date Hudson. Maybe not even be his friend at all knowing that’s where it started. But then I wouldn’t have been at the post office with the breakup box to meet Arthur. Not like that has a happy ending either.
Dylan gags on a vomit-flavored bean as I watch the movie. Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, comes on the screen, and I think about Arthur singing “Ben” during karaoke. Things weren’t easy then, but they were simpler. Sorry was enough to keep it moving. But now Arthur has unfollowed me on Instagram and probably enlisted Namrata and Juliet on putting together restraining orders.
“I’m seriously the worst,” I say. I take a swig of the Butterbeer, which we’d planned on spiking with rum thinking Dylan’s very Irish parents wouldn’t care, but all bets were off on that because they don’t want Samantha buzzed on the way home. “I ruined everything. Something good with Arthur. How much he loves New York. He’ll probably never want to come back, and . . . I really wanted him to want to come back.”
Samantha puts down a bean and sits in front of me. “You’ve done everything you can right now. He might just need some more time.”
“I haven’t gone to his house,” I say. “Or job.”
“Let’s not do that.”
“Why not? No one invited him to my school.”
“No, but you were dating,” Samantha says.
I can’t believe how quickly everything has gone with Arthur—strangers to boyfriends to exes. We wouldn’t be exes if Arthur hadn’t tried to surprise me. But that’s who he is. Someone who goes the extra step. Someone who puts up a poster to find a boy from a city he doesn’t live in even though he’s not here to stay.
“I know it couldn’t last anyway,” I say.
“He was only here for another week, right?” Dylan asks.
“Yeah, but . . . nothing lasts. Me and Hudson didn’t last. Me and Arthur didn’t last. You and Harriett didn’t last. You guys won’t last. Nothing lasts.”
“Um.” Dylan gestures at himself and Samantha. “No need to bring us into this, Bennison.”
“D, I’m just saying. We all talk a big game like the universe is actually setting us up for something epic, and then everything ends. If we were all just a little more realistic, we wouldn’t keep losing people.”
Samantha stands. “I’m going to, uh, get more Butterbeer.” She walks out of Dylan’s bedroom.
“Dude. Big Ben. The fuck.”
“What?”
“You’re telling me my relationship with my girlfriend isn’t going to last . . . in front of my girlfriend. Like she wasn’t standing right there. Which she was.”
“Yeah, but for how long is it going to last?”
“Hopefully a long time.”
“But probably not. You’re hyping up this relationship like last time, and you’re just going to disappoint Samantha like you did Harriett.”
Dylan pauses Sorcerer’s Stone, which, wow, dude never pauses a game, but he’s pausing a movie we’ve seen over a dozen times. “It’s different with Samantha. She’s—”
“What, she’s special? Yeah, well, I know some other girls who were special. Gabriella and Heather and Natalia and Zoe and Harriett. That’s your pattern. You make your jokes about it being meant to be and you move on. You have no idea what I’m going through right now.”
Samantha comes back and grabs her phone off the desk. “I’m going to head out.”
“Nope. I’m out,” I say, getting up.
“Good. Maybe you can go act like you’re the victim with someone who doesn’t know better,” Dylan says. “You’re the one who broke Arthur’s heart, Ben. And ended things with Hudson. Never the other way around. You get to be hurt, but don’t play dumb like you’re any better than me.”
“That’s me. Stupid Summer School Ben.”
“What?”
“Whatever. I don’t want to be here.” I lock eyes with Dylan. “You don’t need your best friend when you’ve got your future wife around, so I’ll just talk to you again in a couple weeks when this is over.”
“No idea where my best friend has gone, but I’m definitely glad the dickhead who looks like him is leaving,” Dylan says. He takes Samantha’s hand and turns his back on me.
I rush out and wow. I have pushed everyone out of my life. Not pushed. Shoved. No Samantha. No Dylan. No Arthur.
But maybe I don’t have to be alone.
I know I’m not supposed to go see him. That’s common sense. But I’m not ready to go home. I get to his building and I text him that I’m downstairs and I really hope he’s here.
Down in a sec, he says immediately.
And yup, Hudson is in the lobby pretty quickly. He tried talking to me at school this morning, but I pushed him away because he’s the reason I’m in this mess in the first place. Nope, I am. Dylan is right. We’re both heartbreakers, he’s just playing dumb. Dylan and I will be friends again in no time and he’ll say I told you so and I’ll say You did and he’ll say More sexy time for us now that we’re single again and we’ll be all good.
But right now, I look around to make sure Arthur doesn’t pop up somewhere, and when I don’t see him, I hug Hudson and I cry so damn hard.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Arthur
Wednesday, August 1
How’s this for pathetic: me in pajama pants and a questionably clean T-shirt from Mom’s law firm picnic, smeared in Cheeto dust, on the couch watching YouTube videos of Pokémon dancing to Kesha songs. I’ve reached the summit of Suck Mountain. Peak Suck. Suck Everest. Watch me take suck to new and exciting elevations.
The good news is that Charizard can really fucking dance.
But wow. I haven’t had an actual conversation in days. Dad’s in Atlanta for a job interview, and Mom’s been working late every single day. And of course, I’m “out sick” again. Hopefully forever. It doesn’t even feel like a lie at this point.
Mom walks in around eight, perching beside me on the arm of the couch. “Honey, how are you feeling?”
I force a cough, but it morphs into a choke halfway through.
“So . . . not good?”
“Not good,” I confirm.
She presses a hand to my forehead. “No fever, though. We’ll keep an eye on it.” She smooths my hair. “You going to be okay this weekend? I hate leaving you alone on your birthday.”
“It’s fine.”
I mean, here’s the thing: my birthday’s Saturday. Mom’s driving upstate tomorrow morning for a bunch of depositions and meetings. She’s not coming back until Monday, and Dad’s not back until Monday either, so I’ll be spending my seventeenth birthday alone in Uncle Milton’s apartment. Of course, the worst part is knowing it could have been the most epic birthday ever. This could have been a fucking honeymoon weekend with Ben. No parents. Apartment wide open. Just me and thirty-six condoms and my beautiful sweet boyfriend. Otherwise known as my asshole ex-boyfriend.
I play along even though my heart’s not really in it. If I could ace chemistry questions the way I’m slaying this Harry Potter trivia, I would’ve never been in this mess with Arthur because I wouldn’t have been stuck in summer school with Hudson in the first place. Where the fuck is a Time-Turner when you need one? I would go back in time and never date Hudson. Maybe not even be his friend at all knowing that’s where it started. But then I wouldn’t have been at the post office with the breakup box to meet Arthur. Not like that has a happy ending either.
Dylan gags on a vomit-flavored bean as I watch the movie. Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, comes on the screen, and I think about Arthur singing “Ben” during karaoke. Things weren’t easy then, but they were simpler. Sorry was enough to keep it moving. But now Arthur has unfollowed me on Instagram and probably enlisted Namrata and Juliet on putting together restraining orders.
“I’m seriously the worst,” I say. I take a swig of the Butterbeer, which we’d planned on spiking with rum thinking Dylan’s very Irish parents wouldn’t care, but all bets were off on that because they don’t want Samantha buzzed on the way home. “I ruined everything. Something good with Arthur. How much he loves New York. He’ll probably never want to come back, and . . . I really wanted him to want to come back.”
Samantha puts down a bean and sits in front of me. “You’ve done everything you can right now. He might just need some more time.”
“I haven’t gone to his house,” I say. “Or job.”
“Let’s not do that.”
“Why not? No one invited him to my school.”
“No, but you were dating,” Samantha says.
I can’t believe how quickly everything has gone with Arthur—strangers to boyfriends to exes. We wouldn’t be exes if Arthur hadn’t tried to surprise me. But that’s who he is. Someone who goes the extra step. Someone who puts up a poster to find a boy from a city he doesn’t live in even though he’s not here to stay.
“I know it couldn’t last anyway,” I say.
“He was only here for another week, right?” Dylan asks.
“Yeah, but . . . nothing lasts. Me and Hudson didn’t last. Me and Arthur didn’t last. You and Harriett didn’t last. You guys won’t last. Nothing lasts.”
“Um.” Dylan gestures at himself and Samantha. “No need to bring us into this, Bennison.”
“D, I’m just saying. We all talk a big game like the universe is actually setting us up for something epic, and then everything ends. If we were all just a little more realistic, we wouldn’t keep losing people.”
Samantha stands. “I’m going to, uh, get more Butterbeer.” She walks out of Dylan’s bedroom.
“Dude. Big Ben. The fuck.”
“What?”
“You’re telling me my relationship with my girlfriend isn’t going to last . . . in front of my girlfriend. Like she wasn’t standing right there. Which she was.”
“Yeah, but for how long is it going to last?”
“Hopefully a long time.”
“But probably not. You’re hyping up this relationship like last time, and you’re just going to disappoint Samantha like you did Harriett.”
Dylan pauses Sorcerer’s Stone, which, wow, dude never pauses a game, but he’s pausing a movie we’ve seen over a dozen times. “It’s different with Samantha. She’s—”
“What, she’s special? Yeah, well, I know some other girls who were special. Gabriella and Heather and Natalia and Zoe and Harriett. That’s your pattern. You make your jokes about it being meant to be and you move on. You have no idea what I’m going through right now.”
Samantha comes back and grabs her phone off the desk. “I’m going to head out.”
“Nope. I’m out,” I say, getting up.
“Good. Maybe you can go act like you’re the victim with someone who doesn’t know better,” Dylan says. “You’re the one who broke Arthur’s heart, Ben. And ended things with Hudson. Never the other way around. You get to be hurt, but don’t play dumb like you’re any better than me.”
“That’s me. Stupid Summer School Ben.”
“What?”
“Whatever. I don’t want to be here.” I lock eyes with Dylan. “You don’t need your best friend when you’ve got your future wife around, so I’ll just talk to you again in a couple weeks when this is over.”
“No idea where my best friend has gone, but I’m definitely glad the dickhead who looks like him is leaving,” Dylan says. He takes Samantha’s hand and turns his back on me.
I rush out and wow. I have pushed everyone out of my life. Not pushed. Shoved. No Samantha. No Dylan. No Arthur.
But maybe I don’t have to be alone.
I know I’m not supposed to go see him. That’s common sense. But I’m not ready to go home. I get to his building and I text him that I’m downstairs and I really hope he’s here.
Down in a sec, he says immediately.
And yup, Hudson is in the lobby pretty quickly. He tried talking to me at school this morning, but I pushed him away because he’s the reason I’m in this mess in the first place. Nope, I am. Dylan is right. We’re both heartbreakers, he’s just playing dumb. Dylan and I will be friends again in no time and he’ll say I told you so and I’ll say You did and he’ll say More sexy time for us now that we’re single again and we’ll be all good.
But right now, I look around to make sure Arthur doesn’t pop up somewhere, and when I don’t see him, I hug Hudson and I cry so damn hard.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Arthur
Wednesday, August 1
How’s this for pathetic: me in pajama pants and a questionably clean T-shirt from Mom’s law firm picnic, smeared in Cheeto dust, on the couch watching YouTube videos of Pokémon dancing to Kesha songs. I’ve reached the summit of Suck Mountain. Peak Suck. Suck Everest. Watch me take suck to new and exciting elevations.
The good news is that Charizard can really fucking dance.
But wow. I haven’t had an actual conversation in days. Dad’s in Atlanta for a job interview, and Mom’s been working late every single day. And of course, I’m “out sick” again. Hopefully forever. It doesn’t even feel like a lie at this point.
Mom walks in around eight, perching beside me on the arm of the couch. “Honey, how are you feeling?”
I force a cough, but it morphs into a choke halfway through.
“So . . . not good?”
“Not good,” I confirm.
She presses a hand to my forehead. “No fever, though. We’ll keep an eye on it.” She smooths my hair. “You going to be okay this weekend? I hate leaving you alone on your birthday.”
“It’s fine.”
I mean, here’s the thing: my birthday’s Saturday. Mom’s driving upstate tomorrow morning for a bunch of depositions and meetings. She’s not coming back until Monday, and Dad’s not back until Monday either, so I’ll be spending my seventeenth birthday alone in Uncle Milton’s apartment. Of course, the worst part is knowing it could have been the most epic birthday ever. This could have been a fucking honeymoon weekend with Ben. No parents. Apartment wide open. Just me and thirty-six condoms and my beautiful sweet boyfriend. Otherwise known as my asshole ex-boyfriend.
