The scary thing is that I’ve felt something like this before, back at the LIC. It was for Toby, a Nice a year older than me who had floppy brown bangs and a deep voice that didn’t match his skinny body at all. He took me under his wing when I first arrived, and he even insisted on calling me Sam, because his philosophy was that everyone should have a proper name. I didn’t know it was a crush at the time; I was pretty sure I was straight. I just thought I really, really wanted him to like me, because he was cool, popular, and knew more about Star Wars than anyone else. I should’ve known what I felt was actually something, as the mere thought of him was enough to make me grin, and I did go hard when I saw him take his shirt off before an examination.
I cried when he left, and then the feelings faded until I pretty much forgot about them. I just thought it was a weird thing that happened once and would never happen again. Yet, here we are, starting round two.
Wait, what about Juliet? I like her, sure; she’s a lovely girl. Smart, funny, and pretty. I thought I could fall for her. Now those thoughts feel like wishful thinking from a naive boy. With guys, it’s different. It’s always been different, I just didn’t realize how different until now. I’ve always liked how they look, and I’ve always felt drawn toward boys with bright eyes or cute smiles or jaws lined with stubble. With girls, it always felt very conscious, like I was pushing my thoughts in a direction they didn’t want to go. And now I know why it felt like that.
I exhale, but my heart is still beating really hard. This is a thing that happens to people. It’s not unprecedented. It’s, like, a legitimate thing. And that thing that happens to people? It’s clearly happening to me. Because, all of a sudden, all I can think about is what it would be like to hold his hand.
I push the thought away. I can never pursue anything with Dyl, or any guy for that matter, so this has to be kept down. This … crush or whatever it is can’t go anywhere, because Dyl isn’t like me. The odds of that are so, so slim.
But in the corner of my vision, I see him turn his head and look at me, just how I looked at him.
PART TWO
ANTAGONIST
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
“Caden!” screams M. I sit up and yawn, scratching the matted hair on the side of my head. At the LIC they shaved us every three weeks, keeping it short. I was due for a shearing the week I left, so this is the longest it’s ever been. How long have I been out now? A couple weeks? I check my calendar: it’s been nineteen days. “Someone’s at the door for you.”
“Wait, why am I waiting for you?” says Kaylee from down the hall. “You work for me, remember?”
Quick footsteps sound. Crap. I slide out of bed and pull on a white shirt. My room is a mess, so I scoop up the clothes on the floor and throw them into my closet. The desk is still cluttered and my bed is unmade, but there just isn’t enough time to do anything about that. I straighten up as my door swings open.
Kaylee stands in the doorway panting. She’s wearing a sky-blue dress and heels. “Caden, we need to talk.”
I swallow hard. Memories of my regular nighttime activities—Dyl and I, in his car, driving through the city—replay in my mind. Each night we go somewhere different. It’s rapidly become the part of the day I look forward to most. That must be why she’s here, to scream at me for spending so much time with him. Or maybe she tuned in to my nonplatonic thoughts about him. I meet her stare. “We do?”
“Of course we do! The costume party is coming up, and we need to choose your costume.” She sits down at the computer. “Now, the theme is good versus evil. So, obviously, you’ll be dressing up as someone good. Do you have any ideas?”
Whew.
“Jesus? He’s one of the good ones, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Now is not the time to try to be funny, Caden! This party is a huge moment in the school’s social calendar. Plus, Juliet will be in a costume. And you know what that means?”
“Truthfully, I don’t have a clue.”
“She’ll be more open to things! That’s why costume parties exist. You mustn’t forget, most people are always forced to be themselves, which totally sucks, by the way. By wearing a costume, Juliet gets a chance to do what you and other Love Interests are so fortunate to do every single day and become someone else. And when you’re someone else, it’s easier to be brave and act on what you really want. So, at this party, I think Juliet will make her first move. I bet she will kiss one of you. If you show up as Cletus the Slack-jawed Yokel, the chances of you being the one she kisses go way down.”
“Oh man, that was my dream costume! I even had a perfect bit of straw picked out.”
“Very funny. Now, how much skin do you want to show?”
Her fingers tap on the keys, and a black box pops up on the monitor. It’s a program I don’t recognize. On the screen is a blond 3-D character in white briefs standing on a gray box. Beside him is a table filled with clothes. It looks sort of like Create A Sim, only someone has gone to an extreme amount of effort to make sure this avatar looks super buff. Like, comic-book level of absurd, unreachable muscle definition.
I frown. “Is that supposed to be me?”
“Yes. Now, you can go as a sexy angel. It’s a classic. How are your abs?” She reaches across, grabs the hem of my shirt, and lifts it up. I flex, making my stomach muscles shudder. Is my body all I am to her? Haven’t I shown that my strength, as a person and a Love Interest, comes from my mind, not my body? If Juliet is falling for me, surely it isn’t because I have abs. They probably help, sure, but there’s more to me than that, right?
“Still good,” she says. “But not as good as they used to be. Do more crunches.”
The insult stings, but I push through it. “Do you think Juliet would want me to be naked? That’s what Dyl is doing. I should go as something modest but funny. I know her, and that’s what she’ll like.”
“Like what?”
“You’re the one who works for an all-knowing spy organization. You tell me!”
She bounces up and down on her seat. “Caden! I’ve got it! Juliet’s favorite character is Spider-Man. She’s, like, borderline obsessed with him. I’ll order you a costume. There, you won’t have to be naked, but it’ll still be sexy. How’s your butt?” She pushes me around and stares at my backside. I bow my head slightly, feeling like a hunk of beef.
“It’s good. One of her favorite things about Spider-Man is his butt in tights. Seriously, the amount of times she’s Googled ‘Spidey-butt’ is sort of embarrassing. But that ass of yours will be like a wet dream of hers.”
Gross.
“Great.”
She slides off the chair and stands up. “You should be grateful I care this much, Caden.”
“Because I have so much to be grateful for in this life I’m living?”
She crosses her arms. “What’s going on with you? You never used to talk to me like that.”
I could tell her so many things. I could tell her that, sometimes, I’d rather say what I think than some scripted Nice guy answer. That spending time with Dyl has shown me how satisfying it is to be myself, or that being Nice is becoming more difficult.