I lie awake for hours after Russell falls asleep on the floor that night, my mind chasing its tail like a hyperactive puppy. Is Zoe mad at me for ditching her and Carlos? She did me a favor by convincing the other apprentices to work with me on the play festival, and maybe I should’ve gone out with them in return, regardless of how uncomfortable I felt. Then again, she’s handled this whole Carlos situation so badly that maybe I don’t owe her anything. If her boyfriend was going to fly out here, she really should’ve talked to me about it beforehand and laid down some ground rules, right? I shouldn’t have been exiled to Russell’s room, and Carlos shouldn’t have been the one to ask me to go. All of that was Zoe’s responsibility, and she totally dropped the ball.
I send the universe an image of myself yelling all those things at her, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I don’t want to fight. All I want is for Carlos to leave so she can be mine again.
I spend my whole crew call on Sunday debating whether to confront her. Maybe if I don’t say anything, the weirdness will fade away on its own. It might be too early in the relationship for me to complain; everything still feels fragile between Zoe and me, and I don’t want to ruin our last three weeks at Allerdale. But she’ll be in the city starting in September, and situations like this are bound to happen again. Isn’t it better to confront a problem before it becomes a precedent?
I still haven’t decided what to do by the time I get home on Sunday evening. When I unlock the door, I find Zoe sprawled on my bed, staring at the ceiling; she’s not even listening to music or anything, and her mascara is smeared like she’s been crying for hours. How am I supposed to bring up my hurt feelings when she looks so listless?
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“I guess,” she says. “Come here?” She reaches out a hand to me, but she looks so hesitant, like she’s not sure whether I even want her anymore. It’s ridiculous to feel sorry for her when I’m the one who’s hurt, but she seems so miserable that I can’t help it. She’s my Zoe, and she needs me.
I sit down on the bed and gather her into my arms, and she curls against me. “Are we okay?” she asks in a very small voice.
It’s the perfect opening to say all the things I’ve been thinking, and I almost do it, but then I chicken out at the last second. “I think I’m okay if you are,” I say.
“I barely slept all night ’cause I kept thinking about how pissed at me you probably were. Having him here was awful for you, wasn’t it?”
It’s really nice to hear her admit it. “Yeah, it kind of was,” I say.
“I’m so sorry, Brooklyn.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s complicated. And I know I’m allowed to see other people, too, if I want.”
She looks up at me, startled. “But…you don’t want to, do you?”
I think about telling her I do, so she’ll know how I’ve been feeling all weekend, but the last thing our relationship needs is more drama. “No,” I say.
“Good. I know it’s unfair, but I want you all to myself.” She sighs and puts her head down on my chest. “Loving two people at once is so confusing.”
I suddenly feel like I’ve downed fifteen shots of espresso. “Wait,” I say. “You love me?”
“Of course I do. Don’t you know that?”
She looks up at me with those pretty sunflower eyes, and it becomes very easy to forget all about Carlos. Guys I’ve dated have told me they loved me before, and I’ve said it back; Jason and I started saying it after a couple of months. I thought I was telling the truth, but the way I feel right now is so different that it makes me want to call him and take it back.
“I love you, too,” I say, and the smile that breaks across her face could power a city block.
“So you’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad,” I say.
“And you still want to do this?” She cups my cheek in her hand and kisses me, soft and sweet.
“Yes,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Good. I was so afraid that I’d screwed things up and lost you.”
I know I shouldn’t let everything I feel fade away. We’ll have to talk about Carlos eventually. But no relationship is perfect, and my girlfriend loves too many people seems like something I should be able to handle. Dating Zoe is the one thing I’m doing right this summer, and I’m not willing to give it up over this.
So I pull her closer and say, “You didn’t lose me. You can have both of us.”
We stay in bed until the shadows start to lengthen, holding on to each other and murmuring silly, pointless things that feel important because they’re interspersed with “I love you”s. When Zoe’s alarm goes off at seven-thirty, she buries her face in my shoulder and groans. “I have a stupid costume fitting. I don’t want to let go of you.”