Theo laughs and shakes his head. “You’re so awkward, Griff. You shouldn’t ever be let outside your room. Here’s my cue to insert some flirty comment about how I’ll lock myself in here with you, but I’m better than that. I think.” He lies down next to me, holding my hand. “Please don’t go crazy over this. If we want to play dumb over this, we can. I can redo this down the line whenever you’re ready.”
I drag a finger across his jawline. I have the most honest boyfriend staring back at me. I have no reason to lie to him, and no reason to lie to myself. “You’re playing dumb already if you don’t think I love you back. But, officially, here it is: I love you, Theo. I love you, dude who had sex with another dude. I love you, dude who is in love with another dude.” Four times. I’ve told Theo I love him four times, and it was easier with each one. I picture each word like a fearless skydiver. An assembly of brave words just dove out of the clouds and landed in my bed.
Theo and I stay there for a little bit longer, but when my mom texts me—asking me how I’m doing and telling me she’ll be home soon with hot soup—we know it’s time for him to go. There’s nothing suspicious about Theo’s being here, but we both know things are different now. Love and sex have been added to the recipe of our friendship. We’re something new. But, man, Theo and I getting dressed together is a kind of quiet miracle, what people don’t even know to dream about until it happens in real time. I try to cling to that dream, to the certainty that everything will feel as infinite as it does now so that our story will be like the high school sweetheart love story my parents have.
“I’ll walk you out.” I help him put his backpack on, any excuse to touch him some more.
“You say that to all the guys you sleep with, don’t you?”
“Only the ones who are stupid enough to love me.”
“So, what, ten dudes?”
“You wish it was only ten dudes.”
Theo and I kiss for approximately the thousandth time this afternoon, and as he walks out, he says, “See you later. Don’t forget that I love you. By the way, in case you were wondering, I still love you. Hey, you rock. Don’t change. If you change I might not love you anymore, which is something I do now. I love you times ten.”
“If you love me, you won’t ever bring math into this again,” I say back, rubbing my nose.
Theo keeps muttering “I love you; I love you” while going down the hall, as if those are the only three words in his vocabulary—and before he can turn the corner to the elevator, he stops and holds his hand to his ear.
I mouth the words he’s waiting for. I add a “too” to bring the word count to four.
Once I close the door, I miss him. It feels extremely pathetic, but I shake it off because it won’t feel that way when Theo and I are together years from now. I feel confident about that. I’m no longer listening to those doubts that make me feel inferior to Theo. And I also believe I’m Theo’s first time because he wanted it that way, and not because I was some trial run for someone worthier of him down the line. I don’t just believe it; I know it.
He said he loves me. I believe that, too. But I want more. I want to know it.
Saturday, June 21st, 2014
Theo’s summer cold—well, let’s keep it real and call it my summer cold since it’s pretty clear how he got sick—is gone, just in time for Denise’s sixth birthday party in Central Park. It’s a Disney princess theme. (What else?) Denise and most of her friends are dressed as Elsa, but calling it a Frozen party wouldn’t be fair to the two Belles and the Mulan in attendance.
“We should’ve dressed up, too,” I say.
“You can’t pull off a dress as well as Denise,” Theo says.
“I should’ve forgotten to show up,” Wade says, back in his glasses as of this weekend, since his contacts finally became unbearable. He waves at us. “Remember me? Wade Church? The one who agreed to come to this kid’s party even though he had something better to do.”
Theo turns to me. “Hey, do you hear something? Like a ghost pretending he has better things to do?”
I feel a little guilty laughing, but not enough that I don’t. Besides, it’s no secret there’s tons of bullying in the Theo and Wade friendship. Everyone is used to this by now, me most of all. Sometimes I’m nervous he’s going to move on to new friends; I’m not that desperate for an even number in our squad.
“Whatever. Just don’t have sex out here or I’m calling the cops.”
That’s another thing: he references our sex life whenever possible.
“There aren’t enough middle fingers in the world, Wade,” Theo says. “But for starters . . .” He flips Wade off twice, nods toward me to do the same, which I do. “Here are four.”
Wade forces a laugh. “Tag-teaming. Fun.”