“Yeah, but that was in my mind”

“I should have made it really clear.” Ethan shakes his head. “I should have been in your texts every day. I’m really sorry, Art.”

“It’s fine.”

“I know. I just wish I’d handled it differently.”

For a moment, no one speaks.

“Well, maybe we should have a do-over,” I say.

“A do-over?”

“Jessie . . . Ethan. I have something to tell you.” I pause. “I’m gay.”

They both look at me expectantly.

“We know?” says Jessie.

“No, this is a do-over. Now you guys say something.”

“Okay.” Jessie nods. “What do you want us to say?”

“Whatever you want to say. Like, ‘sweet’ or ‘two thumbs up’ or ‘oh, cool, that’s badass’ or—”

“Oh, cool, that’s badass,” says Jessie.

“Two thumbs up,” says Ethan.

“Okay, good. And now it’s your turn.”

Jessie furrows her brow. “You mean—”

“Hey, guys, what’s up? What’s your big news?” I ask loudly.

“Well,” Jessie says.

Ethan grins down at his phone screen.

“Ethan and I are dating.”

“What? That’s great!” I clasp my hands together. “I’m so happy for you, THIS IS ROMANTIC AS FUCK.”

Jessie laughs. “I think dial it back two notches.”

“Okay, but I am happy for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. But it’s a little weird, too. It’s different.” Jessie shrugs. “I get that.”

“Well, you guys are my best friends. That’s not different.”

“True.” Jessie smiles wetly, sliding her legs off of Ethan’s. “Come on.”

And the next thing I know, she’s squeezing into my chair beside me. “Excuse me. Personal space.” I push her away, biting back a grin.

“Not a chance.” She flings her arms around my shoulders and nuzzles closer.

My phone buzzes with a text. Jessie shamelessly reads over my shoulder.

I love you, dude.

From Ethan. And not the group chat. It’s in our solo thread.

And when I look up to catch his eye, he’s already halfway to the armchair. “I want in,” he says, planting himself firmly in both of our laps.

I collapse beside Ben on the couch. “They’re all gone. All those terrible people are gone.”

“Finally.” He tugs me closer. Ben’s funny. He’s weird about touching in front of our friends, but now that they’re gone, there can’t be an inch of space between us. “I like Jessie and Ethan, though.”

“JessieandEthan. One word. I’m still . . . wow.”

“Must be hard to get used to.”

“It’s weird. I think I really am happy for them.” I smile up at him. “Maybe I’m just happy.”

He buries his face in my shoulder. “I know what you mean.”

“This is the best. It’s like we’re dads.”

He laughs. “Dads?”

“Like we’re an old New York couple just sitting around doing nothing.”

“I like doing nothing with you.”

“Me too.”

And I do. I like it so fucking much. I always thought love was about the showstopper moments. No dialogue, no filler. But if the quiet parts are filler, maybe filler’s underrated.

“We should do this every day,” I say.

“All two of them?” asks Ben with this sad half smile.

My heart sinks. “Oh.”

“Sorry to be a downer.”

“No.” I kiss his head. “You’re being real with me, just like you said.”

He nods.

“But I hate this.”

“Me too,” he says softly.

“Hey. Come here.” I shift over to lie down, and then I pull him down with me—chest to chest, limbs in a tangle. He tucks his head in the crook of my neck and sniffs, and my heart beats in triple time. He’s so palpably sad. It almost catches me off guard.

I pull back, and for a moment, I just study his face—the thick eyelashes fanning across his flushed cheeks, the constellation of freckles on his nose. It’s one of those silences that’s so thick, it feels solid. I press my lips to his forehead.

Deep breath.

“So,” I ask finally, “what happens in two days?”

Ben pauses. “I don’t know.”

“I move back to Georgia.”

He catches my gaze. “I’ve never had a long-distance boyfriend.”

“I’ve never had any kind of boyfriend until you,” I say. “I don’t even know how it works.”

“How what works?”

“Time apart.” My hands linger on his jawline. “Like in movies, it’s just a montage. You know, they’re pining, maybe they talk on the phone a few times, someone gets a haircut or grows a beard or whatever, so you can see the passage of time. But I don’t know if that’s realistic. I kind of think we’d just FaceTime and text and miss each other a lot. And maybe masturbate on the phone with each other sometimes. Is that a thing?”

Ben looks taken aback. “Um. I have no idea.”

“But then what if it goes south? Like, I’ll be the guy who’s sad, drunk, and alone, and you’ll be going to raves and kissing boys, and I’ll try to call, but you’ll be in a sex den with a bunch of hot guys with celebrity parents, but they’re all dead around the eyes, and there’s probably cocaine—”

“Jesus, Arthur. You realize I spend ninety-nine percent of my time writing about wizards and playing The Sims, right?”

“I know.”

“You just have no filter, do you?”

“None.”

He kisses my cheek. “Okay, I have to go do something now.”

“Ooh, what? Is it a secret? Should I close my eyes?”

“You don’t have to close your eyes. Just hang tight. Listen to three Dear Evan Hansen songs, and I’ll be ready.”

I sit up straight, beaming. “You got it!”

But I’m barely past Zoe’s part in “Only Us” when my FaceTime app pops up with a call.

I press accept. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie!” She’s in the most generic-looking hotel room I’ve ever seen in my life. Stark white bedding, plush headboard, framed picture of the beach. “How did the surprise go?”

“It was great.”

“What are Ethan and Jessie like as a couple? I can’t picture it.”

“Oh, they’re the worst,” I start to say, but then my bedroom door creaks open.

And I lose the ability to speak.

Because—wow. Wow. There’s my boyfriend. Wearing only boxers. Looking straight at me like—

“You okay, sweetie?” Mom asks.

Ben’s hand flies over his mouth. He scurries back into my room, yanking the door shut behind him.

“I’ve got to go, Mom. Sorry.” I end the call before she can ask why.

When I walk into my room, my bed’s covered in heart stickers, with a line of tea lights trailing from my door. And then there’s Ben, perched in the middle of the bottom bunk, next to his laptop. “I didn’t light the candles. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to set your apartment on fire. And Duane Reade didn’t have rose petals, so I went with stickers.”

“Ben.”

“I know it looks ridiculous—”

“It’s perfect.”

“You like it?” The corners of his mouth quirk up.

“I love everything in this room,” I tell him. “Every single thing.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ben

This morning I got to wake up next to Arthur, and I can’t believe there was almost a world where that never happened. I felt the same way last night when we were passing out with my face pressed against his shoulder, breathing in his T-shirt. And this afternoon we’re lying on our sides, shirtless, with our locked hands resting between our faces.