“Who thinks you’re unbearable? Kyle being more Kyle only equals more awesome.”
It was without question the sweetest thing Sharma had ever said. Possibly to anyone. Ever. With her hair hidden beneath her beanie and the magnification on her giant old-skool lenses she looked 90 percent eyes. They widened further as a puffball of winter clothing appeared and held up a gloved hand for a high five.
“Rory!” I cheered. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m tagging along on this Hunt the Hater Hacker, er, Hunt. Oh, hey, you must be Sharma. Nice to meet you IRL. Didn’t know you’d be here. Figured it was too nice out to sit in the office all day. Might as well get some vitamin D sunshine and whatnot.”
The only part of Rory not covered by his oversized pants, boots, winter parka, scarf, gloves, and fisherman’s cap was the lower half of his face. We all looked skyward. There had never been a bleaker NYC day.
“Think you forgot what sunshine is.”
Sharma spoke this in the general direction of Rory’s shoulder, like she was addressing the elderly grandmother in line behind us, who didn’t look all that happy that her line had gotten longer by one. Rory laughed like he was txting it—all-caps HAHAHA followed by dozens of exclamation marks. He smacked his cheek to stop.
“Well, it feels like sunshine being in present company,” he bellowed.
Sharma gave him such a frosty look, it made the air feel tepid in comparison. Then I realized it wasn’t Rory she was glaring at. It was the person behind him.
It was Mac.
I put my hand into his airspace, thinking he might be one of those holo-ads that plugged in people from your favorites list. My hand hit coat. It was really him. He was holding a tray of steaming hot teas.
“Oh, thank G-O-D,” Rory breathed. “You made it.”
“I never let down a primo.”
As Mac and Rory did a one-armed bro hug, the grandma behind me swore in what my EarRing told me was Russian. As a peace offering for cutting, Mac handed her a tea. Grumbling, she snatched it, then sighed at its warmth. He passed out the other three to us.
“You came,” I said.
“Well, I kinda needed to urgently tell you something. Plus, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t stick around to find out who your hater was?”
“The kind who gets slutty hickeys and then ends a cool relationship?” Sharma intoned.
She slid her glasses to the bottom of her nose and glared at Mac over them like a librarian scolding a talker.
“Oh, hey, Sharm, nice to see you, too.” Mac took my elbow and resolutely turned us so our backs were to her and Rory. The Russian grandmother smacked her lips, pleased to now have a hot drink and entertainment. “When did Sharma start speaking in full sentences? Never mind. So I had this realization after I deserted you outside your house last night. Before you, I never got the point of holding hands. I mean, it’s two bony appendages pressed together. No me importa. But as soon as you took my hand on our date—”
“I recall you taking mine, amigo.”
“Agree to disagree. That day, I got why people dug it. I’d never felt so connected to someone or so ready to be immersed in all their messiness. I never felt happier and all I was doing was holding your hand.”
“Aw,” Rory sighed.
We glanced behind us. Startled, Rory looked skyward, like the clouds had just called his name. Sharma simply stared at us, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t listening.
“Keep going,” the Russian grandmother said.
Mac cleared his throat; even quieter, he continued, “I know you think I want us to go out so I can, like, run your bases, but it’s not that. It’s that I kinda knew from the first time we held hands that we fit—really nicely—and that it was special. And, well, yeah. That’s sólo todo what I had to say. That’s all I got.”
Rory clomped his ski gloves together in muted applause. Sharma discreetly wiped at her cheeks, then punched Mac lightly on the arm. Mac’s eyes roved over my face.
“Nah,” he said. “That’s not all I got.”
Tea sloshed on the sidewalk as he lifted me off my feet. With our noses touching, he swung me back and forth. Just as Mac angled his lips down to kiss me, I snuck a hand up and clamped it over his mouth.
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend.” Before all the happy drained from his eyes, I hurried on. “I haven’t just been worried that you’ll break up with me; it’s that I don’t ever want to experience a day when either of us ‘moves on.’”
Mac set me down. I kept my hand over his mouth.
Through my glove, he said, “So now we’re getting married?”
“No, dummy. I’m saying ‘just friends,’ ‘going out’…the labels don’t work. They’re all too limiting, because I love you, Mackenzie Rodriguez. And—fingers crossed—I’m also going away to school for four years. Which means if we date, we’ll have to break up at the end of summer, because everyone knows you don’t date your high school boyfriend past high school. And I can’t imagine a day when I won’t want you in my life.”
We both got a little teary. I wiped my nose on my coat sleeve.
“Gross,” he sniffed. “So this means you promise to be in my top five lost contacts when the Virus strikes?”
I nodded. “Macky, I am exhausted with not kissing you. But be warned, if anybody other than me gives you a continental-sized hickey in the next few months, I will get Sharma to delete your fantasy-fútbol team faster than you can say ‘skank.’ And, for the record, even though you’re taking me to prom, I refuse to do it with you in the back of some car or, like, dirty motel room afterwards.” I took my hand away from his mouth. “Now say something.”
“Lo siento. I spaced after ‘I love you, Mackenzie Rodriguez.’ So we’re not going out again?”
“Correct. But we are also not not going out.”
Behind us, Rory said, “Uh, so what’s your CB relationship connection gonna read? On-Again, Off-Again?”
“Free Spirits?” Sharma asked.
Mac danced that eyebrow up. I bit my lip, trying to hold back my smile. There was only one out of the hundreds of connection descriptions that fit us.
“You Wouldn’t Understand,” we said together.
And just as we leaned forward to kiss, the bus arrived. The line surged. Rory hurried forward. Sharma looked back at me with a you’d better not stick me with this guy glare. Russian grandma behind me ran her suitcase into my heels.
“What I understand is that the line has moved.”
I took Mac’s hand. He smiled at our interwoven fingers.
“Yeah, that’s better,” he said as we moved toward the bus. “And, hey, did you just ask me to prom?”