“I think I like you differently now than when we were eleven. Though not necessarily. Maybe I liked you this way then, too.”
But he didn’t press, didn’t ask what she was hoping he would ask: What way? Tell me how you like me, Delilah. Instead, he shrugged as if it all made sense and told her he was always happy to have another friend.
? ? ?
“How could I forget that all you ever wanted to do was watch scary movies?” Dhaval groaned. He looked like he was on the verge of an enormous pout. “We could go over to Seneca Park and sip some booze from my flask and talk about boys.”
“I don’t drink,” Delilah reminded him. “And are we openly talking about boys in public now?”
He shrugged. Delilah had always known Dhaval was gay. It may not have been an actual conversation they’d had, but they hadn’t really needed to. Two summers ago, Dhaval told her he’d kissed Aiden Miller on the last day of school, behind the bleachers. Delilah was only mad that his first kiss happened before hers. She cared as much about who Dhaval chose to kiss as she did for what shoes he chose to wear: It mattered only that neither hurt him.
“My parents give me one night out a month,” he told her. “One. I don’t care if you drink. I’ll drink and you can tell me all about the wild Catholic-school parties.”
Delilah snorted. “Why does everyone think it’s like that?”
“Isn’t it?” His face relaxed into a grin. “You had a single room last semester. Don’t break my heart and tell me you never snuck a guy in.”
She gave Dhaval a stern look. “I want to see a movie. I don’t want to head over to the big city and drink in a park.”
“Not all of us were lucky enough to attend boarding school outside of Boston,” Dhaval said, in the worst Boston accent Delilah had ever heard. “Maybe trips to Wichita parks are the highlight of our week around here.”
She slipped her arm through Dhaval’s and led him to his car. “Slasher flick. My treat. I promise you’ll have fun.”
The Morton Theater was run-down and exactly how Delilah remembered it. Had anything changed? Her bedroom was still an almost blinding purple, and she slept on the same, tiny brass daybed. Her parents seemed to be wearing the same clothes, styling their hair just the same. The crack in the sidewalk out in front of the house was still there. It felt as if time had stopped while she was away and the only person who’d kept growing, and growing was Gavin.
Delilah paid for the tickets and dragged a reluctant Dhaval in behind her. “Popcorn?”
“No,” he said sulkily.
“Candy?”
The promise of sweets seemed to penetrate his foul mood. But as they moved closer in line for food, Delilah looked up and saw Gavin just beside the concession stand. Every time she saw him she couldn’t believe that he was real. He didn’t look like anyone she had ever seen. He was so wonderfully, perfectly odd.
“Did you know he worked here?” Dhaval hissed in her ear. “Is that why we’re here, you fiend?”
Gavin looked up and offered a tiny smile, a little wave.
“No!” Delilah hissed back. “These are the details you need to share with a friend who’s been gone for six school years!” She tried to return Gavin’s smile but was sure it came out wobbly. His eyes lit with amusement as he watched the whispered exchange.
“I had no idea,” Dhaval whispered. “I never come to the damn movies, remember? I can’t ogle hot boys in the dark!”
Delilah straightened her shoulders and walked up to where Gavin leaned against the vacuum broom he was holding. He took his time looking her over, from the top of her shoes to her mouth, her cheeks, and finally her eyes. “Hi, Delilah.”
She felt completely naked somehow. “I didn’t know you worked here.”