21

Nico

They started the day slowly. Nico lingered in bed while Jadon made coffee, and then both of them moved out into the kitchen so Jadon could make breakfast—some kind of omelet, if you could call it that when it was made out of egg whites and tofu and an ungodly amount of kale. Nico entertained himself by snooping through the junk mail on Jadon’s table: a lot of boutique clothing mailers, which wasn’t exactly a surprise considering the clothes Jadon wore; the weekly circulars; an invitation to the Metropolitan PD’s annual holiday party.

“I’m going to clean that up today,” Jadon said. The embarrassment was audible in his voice. “I’m going to clean the house, actually. I’m sorry, again; I’ve kind of let things get away from me.”

“Literally not a problem at all. It makes my snooping much easier.” Nico’s phone buzzed, and he checked it and was surprised to see a message from Maya. And then another. And then another. He started laughing as he read them. “Oh my God.”

The beaten eggs sizzled as Jadon poured them into the frying pan. “What?”

“Apparently Chapman ripped strips off Gio’s ass last night at dinner. Clark said something about Gio and Meza hooking up, and Chapman lost his mind.”

“I don’t suppose anybody took strips off Clark’s ass.”

Nico grinned. “Do I hear a tone?”

“You do, as a matter of fact.”

“Clark gets away with everything, that’s—oh shit.” He stared at the next message that had come through.

“What? What happened?”

“Dr. Young asked Maya why I wasn’t at dinner. She wanted to talk to me about applying to the doctoral program at Wash U.”

Jadon brought the omelets to the table and touched Nico’s cheek. “That sounds like good news.”

“It is. I don’t know. I mean, I guess it is.”

“It’s good news.”

Nico opened his mouth to reply but his phone vibrated again. This time, he groaned.

“This is a roller coaster of emotions,” Jadon said with a laugh.

“We have to go on a date before I leave,” Nico said and took a bite of the omelet—and he had to admit, it was surprisingly good. “Maya’s orders. A real one, not eating dinner together and pretending we’re friends. Otherwise, she will actually kill me. That’s literally what the text says.”

Jadon dropped into the chair opposite Nico. He wore joggers and a hoodie that said DRINK TEA–RUN–BE HAPPY, and he had bedhead because he hadn’t fixed his hair yet, and he tucked one foot under his other leg to keep it warm. It was so adorable that the universe was probably on cuteness overload. And then Nico heard his own thoughts with a kind of distant horror and wondered if he was legally obligated to turn in his bitch card now.

Without appearing to notice any of Nico’s internal dilemma, Jadon checked his phone. “Emery’s supposed to be here in about three hours.”

“Which means he’ll be here in two and a half.”

Jadon looked a question at him.

“Don’t ask,” Nico said. “It’s too much. This is still the honeymoon phase.”

That made Jadon laugh, but all he said was “A date, huh?”

“At least one.”

“A real one.”

“It has to be a real one. We can’t eat barbeque and jerk each other off.”

“I kind of liked that one, but yeah, it might be a little early in the morning for barbeque.”

One of the bits of tofu was the perfect size, and it hit Jadon in the cheek.

Laughing, he wiped his face. “All right, here we go.”

“Let me change.”

“Nope, no changing.”

“Jadon, it’s a date. I have to change.”

“You told me twice this morning that you’re looking forward to not getting out of your pajamas—what did you say? ‘Ever again in this lifetime’?”

“That was before I knew you were taking me to one of the city’s fanciest restaurants.”

“Nice try.”

“Tickets to a sold-out musical that’s been sweeping the country.”

Jadon got out of the chair, took Nico’s hands, and pulled him to his feet.

“I meant on a riverboat cruise,” Nico said.

“Yes, Nico, I’m taking you on a riverboat cruise this morning.”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to go on a real date.”

It was lucky for Jadon that Nico’s pajamas, that morning, consisted of Wroxall sweatpants and a tank that said nothing but I LOVE and then had a silhouette of a rooster. Sneakers and a jacket completed the outfit, at least temporarily, and he let Jadon chivvy him out to the car.

They drove in comfortable silence. Jadon put on music, and after a couple of songs by Bob Vylan and Better than Bullets, a familiar song came on.

“Is this Kumbia Queers?”

Jadon shrugged. “You said you liked them. I thought I’d give them a try. I like them.”

Nico settled back into his seat. A few minutes later, he realized he was still smiling.

Then Green Day came on, and he had to take away all of Jadon’s points.

The sky was blue and clear, and it made Nico think of how glass could look blue sometimes. The rain had moved out, and in its place, the sun shone down, warming the November day. They drove along the Mississippi, and the river was muddy and riffled with light. Ahead of them, the Arch caught the sun and became incandescent.

“The Arch?” Nico asked when Jadon exited the highway and headed toward the structure. “Really?”

“Have you ever been?”

“No.”

Jadon laughed. “But?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to do something else?”

“No.”

Jadon glanced over at him.

“I don’t want to do something else,” Nico said. “I’m excited. I’m officially excited.”

For some reason, that made Jadon laugh again.

They parked and hurried across the landscaped grounds. The breeze off the water was stiff and chilly, and even with the sun, Nico was glad to follow the ramp down below the Arch and enter the museum. For a while, they wandered around, looking at exhibits, learning about steamboats and Manifest Destiny and the building of the Arch. Not once, Nico noticed, did Jadon point out a historical inaccuracy, or an anachronism, or try to debate (with Nico, of all people) Jeffersonian democracy. He held Nico’s hand, and he let Nico lead, and when Nico pointed something out, he nodded, or he leaned closer to read the text, or he said something simple and usually thoughtful.

When it came time to take the tram to the top of the Arch, they got in line and were loaded into the tiny cars. Poor Jadon was so big that his knees bumped the man across from him, but the guy laughed and waved it off, and the woman next to him smiled at Nico and took out an issue of Country Living like they were going to be there for a few hours.

At the top, they reversed the process, unloading into a stream of people moving onto the observation deck. The windows looking out were small and a little cloudy—either from age or the weather or both—but Nico could see, on one side, the industrial build-up on the Illinois shore, and then the grit of East St. Louis, and miles and miles of farmland quilted together beyond. On the other side of the Arch, he looked down on St. Louis: the Old Courthouse, Busch Stadium, the skyscrapers of downtown. It was disorienting, looking down from that height. Maybe Jadon knew, because he put his hand at the small of Nico’s back. Or maybe he did it because he wanted to touch Nico. Either way, Nico didn’t mind.

And then it hit him, for the first time all morning, that he was going home.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“Some years, I go back to Iowa. Some years, I stay here.” He shrugged. “This year, I’m staying here. What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Going to Emery’s.”

“If you change your mind—”

“Perfect. I’m coming here.”

Jadon grinned. “Are you visiting your parents for Christmas?”

“God, no. I’m spending it with you. You’ve now been officially informed.”

The grin spread. “I’m supposed to visit my moms.”

“Perfect. They’re going to love me.”

“Yes,” he said, “they will.”

“And that’s it? Are those the only two times I’m going to see you?”

Jadon nudged him toward the other side of the observation deck, where the tram would take them down. “Shocker, I’ve got a lot of PTO I’ve accumulated. I could come down for a long weekend if that’s not cramping your style.”

“We can trade weekends,” Nico said. “My schedule is pretty flexible.”

“Is it?” Jadon said, and he looked annoyingly smug until Nico elbowed him.

As they waited in line for the tram, a family ahead of them looked like they were nearing meltdown. A manic blond boy was zipping back and forth, clearly in need of one of those parental leashes—or a parental straitjacket. A girl who must have been his sister was screaming, her head thrown back as she spun in a circle, windmilling her arms and clearly trying to clobber anyone who got within reach. The dad had a donut of thinning black hair, and a carpet of more black hair on the back of his neck. The mom was a wrung-out dishrag of a woman who was trying to placate both children with candy.

“Do you want kids?” Nico asked.

Jadon laughed—literally—until they got on the tram.

“Don’t forget,” he said as they started down. “You’re supposed to turn in the revised copy of your paper before Thanksgiving, or they won’t consider it for the edited collection.”

Nico turned a startled look on him.

“I wasn’t asleep the whole time,” Jadon said, a smile slanting across his face. “And I’m going to text you every day to make sure you’re working on it.”

“Oh my God.”

“I might even tell Emery.”

“Jadon, I know you think you’re joking, but I need you to understand that you cannot do that.”

That slanting smile widened.

“Please,” Nico said, and it felt dangerously close to begging. “One time, I let him see my bibliography, and he made me cry. And that was when he was trying to be nice.”

They were almost to the bottom when Nico remembered something he’d seen on Jadon’s table. “Speaking of responsibilities, you know you have to go to that party, right?”

“What party?”

Nico made a despairing noise. “The work one.” Still nothing. “The department holiday party. You’ve got the invitation on the table.”

“Oh.”

“Unh-uh, Jadon. You have to go.”

Jadon made a face.

“That’s part of showing these assholes they’ve got nothing on you. You’re not going to give them a single reason to force you out.”

“I think the stuff with Vic will help, actually. They won’t be able to get rid of me for at least six months.”

“I know you think it’s cute to joke about this, but I’m serious: you’re going to the party.”

Hands raised in surrender, Jadon said, “Okay, okay.”

Nico watched him to be sure he’d made his point.

“We can bring a plus one,” Jadon said tentatively.

“Obviously I’m going,” Nico said as the tram rocked to a stop. “Otherwise you’d sneak out in the middle of it to stop a bank robbery or something.”

They filed out of the tram, shuffling toward the exit with the rest of the throng. Long weekends, Nico thought. And holidays. But if things went well, he’d be graduating in the spring, and—

“Stop worrying about it,” Jadon said, his voice brushing Nico’s ear. “We’ll figure it out.”

Nico looked over his shoulder.

“Yes, I know you’re going to have to move for your doctoral program,” Jadon said. “I told you: we’ll make it work.”

“You know this is a public setting. It would be a great location for our first fight.”

“Watch your step.”

The worst part was that Nico stumbled on the ramp anyway. He didn’t mind, though; it was kind of nice to have someone catch your arm.

Outside, the wind whipped his hair, and he blinked against the sunlight. They walked together, the Arch gleaming in a silver band above them. A few yards ahead, the family from the observation deck had officially begun their meltdown.

“That was so stupid,” the boy was screaming. “I hated it! Give me your phone!”

The dad eagerly produced his phone, and the boy sulked off with it.

“I noticed you didn’t answer me about kids,” Nico said.

Jadon bumped him. “Subjectivity is truth. Who knows? Maybe those parents are having a great time.”

Nico doubted it; the mom was crying into what appeared to be a burrito wrapper while the dad shielded himself from a barrage of blows from the daughter.

Instead of heading to the car, he and Jadon walked to look out over the river. He found himself thinking about the museum, about the catenary curve of the Arch, the white-hot band of it like something out of a book or a movie—a portal to another world. And that’s what it was meant to represent, after all. A gateway to a vast unknown. And then Nico corrected himself. Not another world. More of it. Whatever came next.

The sound of vast waters, the toot from a barge, the cry of a gull. The wind shifted into his face, and his eyes stung. Light splintered on the water, and he thought of the morning he had seen the Jewel Box, how it had become a prism, breaking everything and making it more beautiful. Subjectivity is truth; he had said that, and Jadon had remembered. They had talked about Kierkegaard. And about love. About what it meant to love someone, truly love them. Responsibility. Commitment. Choice.

Jadon’s arms slipped around him, and in the lee of his body, he was warm. Jadon kissed his hair. And he must have been remembering too (or, much scarier, reading Nico’s thoughts).

“I choose you,” Jadon whispered. “I’ll always choose you.”

Nico turned his head for a kiss. “I choose you too.” And then horror struck: “Oh my God. I’m going to have to introduce you to Emery.”