In the bathroom, Angel throws up again. Gross.
Ruben and I stumble to our feet, and Jon opens his eyes.
“You’re leaving?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s late,” says Ruben.
Jon gets up, and we huddle together like a tripod, using each other for support.
“Okay,” says Jon, pouting, and then he presses his forehead to mine, and rubs the back of my neck.
“You two are so good together. Like, really, don’t mess this up, because it’s special. Now go, I’ll look after our resident mess.”
“I heard that!”
Ruben and I leave, going out into the hall.
And holy crap.
There are two unfamiliar security guards standing at the end of the hallway. They’re wearing light gray suits, with white ties. Their stoic expressions don’t change when they see us.
I feel like I’m in trouble, even though I haven’t done anything wrong. Drinking at eighteen is legal here. And surely these guards have been told about Ruben and me, and have signed an NDA.
Ruben and I go to my room, and we go inside. Ruben’s been coming over a lot lately, so I’ve been keeping it cleaner than I usually do.
We fall down onto the bed, our hands entangling.
“You’re really hot,” I say. “You know that, right?”
“Where’d that come from?”
“I dunno. I just feel lucky, I guess. And I get what Jon was saying. This is … you know.”
He gives me a kiss on the top of my forehead, and I close my eyes. “I’ve been thinking about a thing, today,” Ruben says. “It’s been bothering me.”
“What is it?”
“It involves something I never told you. And I kinda want to tell you, but I also don’t want you to think I’m an asshole.”
Even though I’m completely and utterly wasted, this opening is enough for me to try to snap back into focus. “Tell me.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, story time. The first day at Camp Hollow Rock, Mom and I get there stupidly early, and there’s no one else there. Then a fancy car rolls up, and Mom says, ‘That’s Jonathan Braxton. His dad’s Geoff Braxton. Make sure you get to know him.’”
I blink. Jon signed up at Hollow Rock under a fake last name every year to avoid that exact situation. If people at camp knew he was Jon Braxton he never would’ve been given even a second of peace, and he never could’ve trusted why people wanted to become friends with him. I didn’t find out he was the son of Geoff Braxton until Geoff called us and our parents into a meeting the night after the final show. “So you knew who Jon was when you met him?”
“Yep.”
“Does he know?”
“Yeah. God, yes, he knows. He asked me not to tell anyone who he was, and that’s how we became friends. And I loved him once I got to know him. But do you think you can ever know … like … what’s the word I’m looking for, Zach? What am I saying?” He stares into the distance. “Biased! Can you be unbiased when you know something like that about someone? Like, I think that when you and Angel asked me to be in the final show with you, I would’ve been all ‘No, Jon, has to come,’ even if I didn’t know who his dad was. Zachary, I would like to think that. I’d like to. But maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I would’ve been like, ‘Hey, Jon will find someone else to be with. He and Angel really don’t get along, so it’ll just make things awkward, blah blah.’ Who knows?”
My drunk brain tries to keep up with this. “But he grew on Angel. They’re fine now.”
He sighs. “That’s not the point.”
“What’s the matter, then?”
“What if I used him?” Ruben whispers. “What if I made sure we were friends so I could get in front of his dad to sing?”
“You didn’t. It was obvious you liked him.”
“Yeah, but I knew. And I couldn’t, like, un-know it. So this, all of this, it didn’t happen because we were good people, or because we worked harder than everyone else, or even just because we got fairy-tale lucky. It happened because my mom is ruthless, and maybe I am, too.”
I study him. “You’re not ruthless. You’re a good person.”
“Hold on, hold on. I have a point. My point is, when you kissed me, I thought you were using me. I think I told you that. Have I told you that? Whatever. I thought you were using me, like everyone uses me. Every guy ever, right? They’re always straight and experimenting, or they’re gay but they want to be a pop star. But then I thought you did it, and it was like, fuck. This has got to be karma at this point. I was an asshole with Jon, and now I have to pay for it forever. No one’s ever going to like me for me. They’re always gonna use me. So that,” he finishes, his head lolling to one side, “is why I was so upset. Mostly.”
I slip my hand under his shirt. “No offense,” I say, “but that’s stupid. You’re not getting bad karma, because you’re not a bad guy. All you did was make friends with someone after your mom gave you a shove; it happens. And even if you were cursed or whatever, I must’ve broken it, because I’m not using you for anything.” He slides his fingers up my thighs, and I tip my head back. “Although I wouldn’t mind using you for some things…”
“You’re drunk.”
“You’re hot.”
He smiles sadly. “What if I’m turning into my mom, Zach?”
I pull him closer. “Listen to me. Your mom is the worst person in the world. You’re the best. You’re nothing like her.”
“Thank you.” He groans. “Wow, okay. I’m in bed with a hot guy and all I can do is talk about my mom.”
“What would you rather be doing?”
“Not sure. But I think it’d be better if your shirt was off.”
I laugh, then pull it off and toss it away. I drop back down, sliding my hand back to the spot it was before, under his shirt.
“Better?” I ask.
He kisses me, his hand flat in the middle of my chest. He lies down, and I move across, so I’m on top of him, his legs over my hips. He’s still dressed, and I’m in jeans, but still.
I think I like being like this.
Ruben pauses. “Thanks for being so cool. I never thought I’d tell anyone what I just told you.”