Chapter Ten

chapter ten

THE LAST WEEK BEFORE BREAK IS MOSTLY JUST ABOUT GETTINGtests back and finishing off college applications. Thankfully I don’t need to worry about the latter, and the former goes decently. As in pretty much everything except English, because apparently the thesis of my essay had a “somewhat slanted understanding of Jane Austen’s text” according to Ms. Levine. She gives me an A-, though, which is good enough that I’m not worried about my GPA. In class, even the teachers goof off, playing games with us that only have a passing relationship to the topics they supposedly instruct us in.

“So John’s flight lands Friday night,” Georgia tells us at lunch on Wednesday. “So the party will be Saturday. He’s going to come over as soon as he’s awake and we’re going to spend all day just talking and setting up and then he has to have dinner with his parents, so we’ll all meet at my place and start the party, and he can enter late, make an entrance as the guest of honor. It’s going to be so amazing.”

I nod and smile. Miles hasn’t sat with us at all this week, so it’s just me, her, West, and Taylor, meaning all the focus is on me.

“Sounds great,” I say, taking a raspberry from the small bowl of them in front of me and eating it. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Everyone is going to be there,” Georgia says. “Your brother is coming, right?” she asks West.

“Oh yeah. Andre liked hanging out with everyone, so he’s game.” Taylor nudges him subtly, but not so subtly I don’t see it. “And he really wants to see you again, Emmett.”

“Oh, does he?” I ask.

Taylor frowns at me. We’re not fighting, not exactly, but she’s still hoping for me and Andre to hook up, and I’m hoping for Andre and Harrison to hook up, and maybe she feels like there’s part of me I’m… not indulging. Part of me I’m scared of. And maybe I am, if I’m being honest. When I said it aloud to Knight, that I was afraid of breaking like my father did, it felt right, and what they said felt right, too. Pain is unavoidable. But still… I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it better once my brain is fully developed. And I’ll tell Taylor that, I think. When she asks.

She raises her eyebrow at me, and I realize I’m grinning, so I wiggle my eyebrows and pop another raspberry in my mouth. Then I spot Miles behind her, eating alone and reading, which is ridiculous, so I text him, telling him to come sit with us. He doesn’t even take out his phone. He doesn’t respond to my text at all that day. Later, at the soup kitchen, Jasmine says he wasn’t feeling well, and not even Knight is there, so we cook, just the two of us, and talk about other recipes from the book.

“Tell Miles I hope he feels better,” I say, and she nods. But he still doesn’t text me back that night. Or Thursday. Or Friday.

Friday, though, I do get a FaceTime from Harrison. I almost assume it’s a butt-dial or something when it comes in, but I answer it anyway. I’m only just home from school, my books down on the table. Dad, for once, is home later than me, but he mentioned he’d be late tonight, he had a lot of meetings. He’d said we’d order pizza. I need to time it so I can order from the good place just before he gets home.

But when Harrison calls, I’m so confused I answer, and the picture on my phone immediately goes to him, in his bed. His eyes are red, like he’s been crying.

“Harrison?” I ask. “Are you all right?”

He nods. “Yeah, I just… I needed some moral support.”

“For what?” I ask.

“I’m going to unfollow Clarke on KamerUhh.”

“Oh,” I say, smiling encouragingly, but shocked inside that he hasn’t already done that. “Good for you.”

“I mean I never used to really use my KamerUhh account before he friended me. Like, sometimes, photos of pretty things I saw, maybe, but…” He nods his head firmly. “It’s too much. Him and his boyfriend. They do all these sexy posts, and…” He takes a deep breath. “I can do better, right?”

“You absolutely can,” I tell him. “Clarke is a jackass. And you liked Andre, right?”

“Yeah!” Harrison smiles. “And… he’s only here for a little while, but… there are other options. I really believe that now. Because of you. Someone really great is out there for me, and I’m going to find him, so I should stop lusting after Clarke, and that starts by unfollowing him. Right?”

“Right,” I say firmly.

“Okay…” He takes another deep breath and the camera falls a bit so I’m looking up at him at a less flattering angle. In his eyes I can see the reflection of the screen, not clearly, but the colors change as he enters the KamerUhh app, and then his finger rises up and comes down with all the grandeur and finality of the end of a Bach symphony.

There’s a long pause, and I watch his expression—it wavers, like he might refollow at any moment, but then he sucks in his lower lip and closes the app.

“Done,” he says.

“Very good work,” I say to him.

“Thank you, Emmett. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Georgia’s party for John,” I say, though I’ve been considering skipping it. But clearly Harrison will still need me to be there, to make sure things go well with Andre, to give him the encouragement he needs.

“Can I call you tomorrow, so you can look at my outfits?”

“Of course,” I say. I hear Dad’s key in the front door lock. “But I need to go,” I say quickly. “Tomorrow!”

“Bye!” he says.

I manage to hang up on him and open up the good pizza app just as Dad comes in.

“Green peppers okay?” I ask him.

“Do I look good in green, though?” Harrison asks. He’s on-screen again, but I’ve had him set his phone on his desk at a nice angle so he can model different outfits for me.

“You look good in most things,” I tell him. “Your coloring is lovely. It’s the fit I’m worried about. Show off your body a little more. Not too much. Loose is all right—as long as it’s tight in some places.”

He nods, confused, and fishes out another pair of jeans, stripping and trying them on in front of me. How does he own so many pairs of ill-fitting jeans?

“Maybe something a little tighter than that, though,” I say, hoping that will lead us to the good part of his closet. If it exists. We go on for nearly forty minutes before we settle on a simple black V-neck and some pale jeans that either aren’t as bad as the others or are just like the others, but I was so desperate for something I made myself see them as better.

When that’s done, I turn to my own much more generous sartorial selection and put on a nice pair of pink pants and floral polo shirt, then drive over there, arriving only half an hour late. Georgia said John would show up at nine, and it’s eight thirty when I get in, but the party is already in full swing.

Georgia’s place is more ranch style—rustic wood on the walls and roof—at the end of a long tree-lined drive, which is currently festooned with towering candy cane decorations, thrust into the landscape at precarious angles like a postapocalyptic production of The Nutcracker. Her Hollywood producer father is originally from Oregon or something, so he likes that cabin-in-the-woods feel, and inside is all warm wood with handwoven tapestries and framed movie posters hanging on the walls. In one corner is a blown-glass Christmas tree, clear, with colorful spheres and lights hanging inside it, and around the rest of the room are lavish hanging plants with long vines that have been wrapped around the room like garlands, grazing the posters and vanishing behind the tapestries, making it feel like the woods outside have broken in through a window.

The place smells like whiskey, sweat, and expensive fir-scented candles. There’s a bar cart in one corner with a bunch of freshmen around it, and a bunch of juniors are hanging out on the landing just over the front door, building a pyramid from red Solo cups on the banister for that KamerUhh challenge. Music is playing loudly, and people are dancing, Taylor and West among them, Taylor grinding on West in a way I find a bit undignified, but I’m not one to judge. In a corner, Andre is chatting up Harrison.

I hang back, watching them, and feeling pleased. They’re smiling, talking quickly, Andre using his hands a lot. There’s chemistry there. I definitely did a good job this time. I mix myself a drink but stay to the side of the room, unnoticed, watching them flirt and feeling something warm inside me. I did this. Look how happy Harrison is. That’s because of me.

Well, because of Andre. But I gave him Andre. No, that sounds creepy. I introduced them knowing they’d hit it off. I did that. And now my friend is happy.

“Apparently, they’re both really into upcycled textiles,” Taylor says, suddenly next to me, watching me watch Harrison and Andre.

“Are they?” I smile, turning to her. “And it seems like there’s some chemistry.”

“There is,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s a good match.”

“Thank you.”

“But Andre would be good for you, too.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “But—”

“You don’t want a boyfriend, you do want a boyfriend, you don’t want a boyfriend. I get it, you’re not ready.”

“Actually, I was going to say, I don’t want a breakup. But I do want a boyfriend. That’s what I’ve realized.” Because I don’t want to fall apart like my dad did, like I told Knight. And maybe they were right that that’s normal and not something to worry about, but… they don’t have my father. I flinch. What an awful thing to think.

She laughs. “That’s what we all want, isn’t it? A relationship that will never end. That’s perfect from the start.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “I get it now. A Perfect Relationship for Perfect Emmett.”

“Well, I never settle for anything less than that,” I say, grinning. “I have a perfect best friend, and a perfect life—why would I bother with an imperfect relationship? Yours is perfect.”

She scoffs. “No, it isn’t.”

“Flowers and leaves literally swirl around you when you kiss, like you’re in a movie,” I say.

“That was the art exhibit, that’s all.”

“It’s not just at the art exhibit!”

“What are you talking about?” She shakes her head, laughing. “Look, it’s not perfect. We have to work on stuff—like when I get anxious about my art, or when he worries about being the only one of his family who will be on another coast and suddenly feels like he has to choose between me and them.”

“Does he really feel that way?” I ask. “He’s so… steady.”

“Sometimes. But we talk it through. We work on it.”

“Well, it looks awfully perfect from where I’m standing.”

She smiles like she has a secret. “Only because you’re outside. You’ll see when you have a boyfriend. In fact… I think that’s who you should set up next. You’ve done all this matchmaking. Find someone for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know, my twenty-five rule still makes a lot of sense, you know. Perfect now might not be perfect when my brain is fully developed and—”

“Oh my god, no, not that again. Come dance with me.” She starts dancing, moving farther into the crowd, and I follow her, taking her hand and dropping my drink and dancing for a moment, losing myself in the music. It’s not the best music, not the string quartets at school I find so soothing, but it’s fun, with strong drums and bass, and it makes me move in ways that feel like a celebration.

“What’s going on there?” Taylor asks, nodding at the door. Miles has just come in, and he looks tired. Maybe he really was sick. But he’s making a beeline for Harrison and Andre, waving at them. And Harrison waves back, breaking the flirting he had with Andre, and suddenly it occurs to me: What if the guy Miles meant wasn’t straight?

What if it’s Harrison?

A guy he’s been spending more time with, who he’s seen more of, who made him want to suddenly kiss him? That could easily be Harrison. It would explain why he’s been so against me setting him up with anyone. Why he hated the idea of Harrison with Clarke. Why he was so repulsed by my offer, and hasn’t been speaking to me… because I’ve slept with the one guy he has feelings for. And I’ve just paired that guy with a charming and flirty college boy… and…

I watch Miles hug Harrison and shake Andre’s hand.

No. I don’t like this. It’s like riding a horse at full gallop that’s suddenly stopped, flinging me off.

What I like is Harrison and Andre together. And this is going to ruin that. I can’t let that happen. And besides, they would never work out anyway: Miles might think he likes Harrison, but no one is ever good enough for Miles. Harrison certainly isn’t. He’s wonderful, but he’s just not good enough for Miles. No one could ever be. And Miles must know that.

“He’s going to ruin this,” I tell Taylor. “Let’s go get him out of there so they can keep flirting.”

Taylor laughs. “Oh no, I told you whose matchmaker I want to play. This is all you.”

I sigh. “Fine,” I say, leaving the dance floor and going over to where the three of them are.

“Emmett!” Andre says, spotting me first with a big smile. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Just a few minutes ago,” I say. “Taylor wanted a dance. Some party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Andre says. “West said it was for some friend who’s been away?”

“He’ll be here soon,” Harrison says. “Do we need to hide and yell ‘Surprise!’ or something?”

“I think he knows about the party,” I say.

Miles is quiet and not meeting my eyes again. Rude.

“Hi, Miles,” I say sweetly.

“Emmett,” he says, his voice cautious.

“I actually need your help with something for Taylor,” I say. “Help me out?”

There’s a pause long enough that we can all tell he wants to say no. “Sure,” he says.

“We’ll be back in a sec,” I say, leading him away, to the kitchen, which is emptier, and quieter. It’s all wood here, too, but with dark green tile, and a big window that looks out on a small pond and some trees, lit by a few lanterns.

“What is it?” Miles asks.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” I ask. “Not even texting back?” I swallow, waiting for him to tell me about his feelings for Harrison.

He looks down and scratches the back of his neck. “Look… Emmett…” He sighs. I can feel my pulse in my wrists, pounding like the plucked strings of violins. Why does it bother me so much—Miles and Harrison? I mean, I don’t think it would work, but that shouldn’t bother me. Maybe it’s just that it’ll show what a poor matchmaker I am. A failure. Can’t see the things right in front of me.

“I just thought we could use a little time apart,” he says finally.

I raise an eyebrow and feel myself crossing my arms, defensive. Angry.

“Apart?” I ask. My voice doesn’t sound nice. Why wouldn’t he just tell me about his feelings for Harrison? Tell me I’m a failure in his condescending Miles way?

“After what you… offered,” he says. “I wanted a little time apart.”

I can’t tell if this is just an excuse, but I roll my eyes anyway, because if it is, it’s a terrible one.

“I didn’t profess my undying love for you, Miles. I offered you some sex. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.”

“I know, because you don’t do casual sex, and I’m sorry, and I said I’m sorry. What do I need to do to show you that?” The words spill out of me sounding exasperated, but they’re nicer than what I was going to say, which is that he’s being a coward and he should just call me a failure and declare his adoration for Harrison. Just say it. I don’t know why I don’t tell him to.

“No,” he says. “You did. It’s me. I just feel like maybe—”

Suddenly, the kitchen door slams open, Georgia grinning maniacally. “He just pulled in!” she squeals. “Come out to say hi.”

Miles heads right out the door before Georgia can get out of the way, that’s how eager he is to leave. Well, fine, he doesn’t want to tell me how I’ve messed up. For once. I’m sure he’s just thinking of how to say it in the most condescending way he can.

“You okay?” Georgia asks as I follow her out of the kitchen.

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s welcome John back.”

She squeezes my shoulder, excited. “I’m so happy he’s back, Emmett. You have no idea.”

“I think I have some idea,” I say with a laugh.

Out in the main room, everyone is staring at the front door, except the juniors still stacking Solo cups on the banister. Georgia lowers the music. The front door opens, and John walks in. He looks good, I’ll give him that. Raven hair, bright smile, and I think his jaw got a little stronger while he was away. He’s wearing a shirt he clearly got in Paris, though—the cut is trim and short. He’ll probably pepper his English with overenunciated French now; he’s that type.

He looks around the room, beaming, and then he stops, his face going blank with shock—and then joy. A full intense joy, the kind you hardly ever see on people’s faces in real life. Joy the way Taylor and West look at each other. I look to see who he’s looking at.

It’s Andre, whose expression matches John’s.

Suddenly, almost in slow motion, Andre is running for John. And then they’re kissing, embracing, really, and one of the juniors knocks their tower over, sending a flurry of red Solo cups raining down around the pair of them like flower petals. They don’t even seem to notice. Andre takes John’s face in his hands and kisses it again.

“I knew you met someone in Paris!” Georgia shouts.

John and Andre break, still looking at each other, still beaming, then laughing.

“Yes,” John says. “We met in Paris. Two Americans studying abroad, but we knew we were only there for a while, so we agreed not to tell each other about home, and instead just spent time together. And we… I never thought I’d see you again. I deleted your number; I was afraid I’d see it, and it would just hurt… but how?”

“It’s destiny,” Andre says, somehow without a trace of irony.

They kiss again, the red Solo cups like roses blooming at their feet, and Georgia squeals and starts to clap, and then for some reason everyone starts clapping as John and Andre kiss, and kiss again, and then the music gets turned up, and they start to dance. Andre is even crying. Ridiculous, really.

But also, I realize, I wish someone would kiss me like that. I wish red Solo cups would rain down on me. Or flower petals. Or snow. And someone would put their hands around my waist and pull me close.… I shake my head. And then I realize—this is another failure. Andre has John, which means he’s not interested in Harrison anymore.

Damn.

I’m really not very good at this after all. So much for perfection. So much for Emmett who’s good at everything and can find people love and can make sure that a nice boy like Harrison finds someone great, even if it’s just so he doesn’t fall for… me. Maybe it was my intentions. Maybe it’s me, and because of my mother, my father, I’m so afraid of what real love might look like.…

I shake my head. Now is not the time to feel sorry for myself. Because someone else is probably feeling much worse, and it’s all my fault. Again. I look around for Harrison, to make sure he’s all right, and I spot him, smiling as Miles hands him a drink.

I walk over.

“Sorry,” I say, and my voice isn’t as bright as I try to make it. “I let you down, again.”

“What?” Harrison asks. “Emmett, there’s no way you possibly could have known something as wild as everything John just said.”

“You’re not psychic,” Miles adds.

“I know,” I say, because I can tell he meant perfect instead of psychic. Good to see he’s going back to being regular Miles.

“Emmett,” Harrison says, “really, don’t worry about it.” He glances sidelong at Miles like a knife glint. “I’ve been thinking maybe… I’ll be all right.”

“I just want you to be happy,” I say, though the words taste spoiled.

“I’m disappointed, sure,” Harrison says with a shrug. “He was fun to flirt with. But I’m fine. I’m happy. I promise.”

“What a romantic story, right?” says a voice next to me. It’s Robert, from the environmental club. Has he been here the whole time? “Away in Paris, meeting a guy you know it can’t last with, making a deal to just live in the moment. There was this piece in Vox that was kind of like that. This woman went to Spain—”

“The Riddle Hunter story!” Harrison says. “That was way more random than this, though. They kept bumping into each other. The rainstorm in Barcelona?”

“It really was destiny,” Robert says.

“What story is this?” Miles asks, grinning.

“Oh, you have to read it,” Harrison says. “It’s from like three weeks ago, I think?”

“I have it,” Robert says, already on his phone. “Emailing it to you. You too, Emmett.”

“Thanks,” I say, and sigh. I look at Miles, smiling like an idiot at Harrison. There’s one match left, and it’s so obvious, but I’m loath to make it. I don’t know why. I just feel like Miles is… he’s my oldest friend. Even before Taylor. And I might hate him sometimes, but I never really saw him with anyone before. I never pictured his future wife, even when I thought he was straight. When I pictured his future, he was always with… me. Just there. Like he always has been. But that was selfish, I know. Unkind. To make him into an accessory in my future. My oldest friend, applauding when I cured cancer, hugging me when I accepted an award, telling me he believed in me. Us visiting those ruins in Scotland he loves so much, him thrilled to be with such old things, me making jokes about it to friends after. He doesn’t owe me any of that. And it’s not like I ever expressed any of this to him. We go days without speaking. If it weren’t for our parents and proximity, I’m sure we would have faded from each other’s lives years ago. And the thought of that hurts me, like a syringe in my gut. Because now he is gone. When a finger is cut off completely, it doesn’t leave a scar with a nice story.

He’d hate me rolling my eyes at the ruins, though, and he’d be so annoyed at my ego when I help cure cancer. This is better. Him and Harrison. I still think Harrison isn’t good enough, but Miles does. That’s what matters. Right?

“Hey, come get a drink with me, Robert?” I say. They should be left alone to fall in love. So something can fall on them—maybe the ceiling will start shedding paint flecks. They’ll look like snow.

“Huh?” Robert asks.

“I like the color of what you’re drinking. I want you to make me one.”

“Oh!” He smiles, happy. “Yeah, cool. Here, come with me. It’s mostly orange juice, but…” I follow him to the bar cart, glancing back once at Miles and Harrison. Harrison is going on about the article, but Miles is looking at me, confused. I smile back at him, though it feels sad. I’m giving him what he wants, right?

“So, you take some grenadine, right, and you stir that in first. Then a splash of vodka, but more importantly, some tequila. I used to think you wanted a drink to be super strong so you can get drunk faster, but I think I’ve come to appreciate the flavor now, too.”

“You used to think that?” I ask, laughing. “Harrison bought that at a party recently.”

“Oh no,” Robert says with a laugh. “Did he get very drunk?”

“Yes,” I say.

Robert looks over my shoulder at them. “I bet it was cute, though. He’s so smart about so many things—his ideas for water purification systems are going to change the world, if he can get the funding. But of course he’s a doof about alcohol.”

“Doof?” I say. “Wait, water purification?”

“Oh yeah. We talk about it all the time. He’s just… great.”

I sigh. He really loves Harrison. And they really would have been good together. NPR. Environmental causes. And Robert isn’t bad-looking. Just because I thought he wasn’t good enough for Harrison… but Harrison clearly thought he was. And then I got in the way. Maybe I’m not as nice as I think I am. Maybe sometimes, I’m actually pretty terrible when I’m trying to be nice.

“Anyway,” Robert says, handing me the drink, “what do you think?”

I swirl it and take a long drink. It’s nice, actually. Bright and salty.

“It’s very good,” I say.

“It’s pretty strong, too,” Robert says. “Maybe slow down.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “And I deserve it. I’m realizing today that maybe I’ve screwed a lot of things up lately.”

“You?” Robert laughs. “I doubt that. You’re so nice.”

I laugh. “Not today. Not… ever, maybe.”

“Well,” Robert says. “None of us are perfect. All we can do is try, right? Oscar Wilde said if you shoot for the moon, you’ll still land among the stars.”

I smile. It’s a nice thought, landing among the stars. But not tonight.

“I’m going to go dance, I think,” I tell Robert. “Thank you for the drink. And talking. You’re a good guy.”

“Awww, thanks, Emmett. You too.” We toast with our glasses, and then I walk to the dance floor, where everyone is still dancing up a storm, thrilled by the love story of John and Andre—who have conspicuously vanished. I find Taylor dancing with West and Georgia, the three of them laughing and talking about John and Andre’s kiss.

“I swear I really had no idea,” West says. “Andre never said a thing.”

“Still very suspicious,” Taylor says, laughing.

“I’m just so happy for them,” Georgia says. “Such a great love.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Oh, what’s wrong with you?” Taylor says. Then she nods. “Ah, you think of this as another failure. Well, not even you can be good at everything. I like this for you. Perfect except for one meaningless skill.”

“It’s not meaningless,” I say. “It was about making people happy.”

“What?” Georgia asks. “Emmett, don’t be so sad. We’ll find someone for you, too.”

I laugh. “I’m not worried about me.”

Georgia lays her hands on my wrist, pitying. “Don’t worry. We all know you had a crush on John, Emmett. But you’re going to meet a guy—”

I pull my wrist away and turn on Georgia, failing to repress the sneer on my lip. “I did not have a crush on John, Georgia. I barely knew him, just like I barely knew you until you insisted on sitting with us this semester and I was too nice to tell you to go away. Just because John is your entire personality doesn’t mean he’s everyone else’s.”

Oh. I didn’t mean to say all that. This drink is stronger than I thought.

Georgia looks like I punched her. Even Taylor and West are staring at me like I’ve just done something vile. I look around. A lot of people are looking at me. Harrison. Miles. His eyes are so disappointed.

I laugh. “And that’s what you get for assuming I have a crush,” I say, my voice light. It was a joke, I’m trying to say to everyone. Just a joke.

Georgia, thankfully, smiles, even though her eyes are watery. She forces a laugh.

“Sorry,” she says. “You’re right. I shouldn’t joke about that.” She laughs again. And I laugh, too, and people turn away. But I can still feel Miles’s eyes on me. Taylor’s, too. She takes my wrist.

“I gotta pee,” Georgia says, taking off. She was definitely crying. I did something very… not nice.

“Emmett…,” Taylor says softly.

“I should go,” I say. And I turn and walk away.

Outside, the music is softer, and I sit down behind one of the candy canes, hiding from people coming in and out, until I’m sober enough to drive home. Taylor texts me, but I ignore it.

Today was a failure in so many ways, I realize as I get home. Today I was a failure. And it’s not a disease or because of my mother dying, or anything like that.

It’s just me. It’s who I am. A failure—at matchmaking, at understanding love, and at being the one thing I always thought I was: nice.