Chapter 14 Neil

WHEN I MENTIONthe scavenger hunt to Skyler, he immediately wants in. I should have known—Skyler's never met a game he didn't like. He turns laundry into basketball, dinner into rounds of "Would You Rather." I'm still reeling from last week's revelation that he'd rather speak to animals than speak every language in the world. "Just think what we could learn from them," he said, sounding awed.

Now his gaze flicks over Rowan's list one more time before he passes back my phone. "This is excellent. Do you want help? I could ask Adhira if she wants to come too—she loves this kind of stuff. Hopeless romantic," he adds with a roll of his eyes.

I'm surprised to discover that I don't hate the idea of having other people to do this with, and when I ask Rowan if my roommate and his friends can join, she agrees that we can enlist the help of others. During Howl, she and I were together almost the whole time. That was what made it great.

Right away, she established that it was a competition. The prize: bragging rights and free rein to pick our next movie without the other person exercising veto power. We'll take photos of each item on the list, text them to the other person for vetting. We are who we are—people who love parameters and guidelines, even in something of our own creation.

We set aside the same Saturday in late January, and I may have a slight ulterior motive for suggesting it: because it's NYU's freshman family weekend.

They do this a couple times a year, once in the fall and once when flights and hotels are cheaper. Aka now. At first I couldn't decide whether I wanted to tell my mom or not. I knew she'd feel guilty because she and Natalie wouldn't be able to come, and ultimately that's what made my choice. Christopher is well off but not wildly so, and especially with the wedding coming up, I'm sure they'd rather save the money.

At breakfast with Skyler, as he debates whether he'd rather be able to fly or turn invisible—"Flying's the obvious choice, I mean, who among us hasn't wanted to fly? But with invisibility, you could get away with so much.…"—I can't help noticing how much more crowded the dining hall is. Of course I'm familiar with Tolstoy's Anna Karenina principle: "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." And yet this morning, even the seemingly unhappy families look alike—all of them, something I cannot have.

"You're taking what class this semester?" one father asks at the table next to us, aghast.

"The Science and Psychology of Marijuana?" his son replies in a tiny voice.

"Thousands of dollars in tuition, and this is what he wants to study." The mother shakes her head, stabbing her stack of dining-hall pancakes.

There must be something wrong with me that even listening to these people argue makes my shoulders tighten, my heart swell. I want so badly to replace that mental image of "family" with one that includes Christopher.

I think about that letter I left at home, recycled and hopefully halfway to becoming a math test or dog-walking flyer. Something significantly more useful than what it was. I was so close to telling Sean and Cyrus and Adrian about it over winter break, and even now, I've stopped short of messaging them, the medium feeling too casual. They're living their best collegiate lives, and I don't want them to worry about me—because they don't have to. If they don't know and Rowan doesn't know, it's easier to act as though I don't, either.

I spent so many years pretending that part of my life didn't exist, and it's wholly unsettling that he's come to haunt me when I'm hundreds of miles away from home. I practiced how to be someone who didn't have a mess of anxiety and resentment attached to his father. I studied, that thing I have always been so good at.

I should be long past the worst of it.

"No family weekend for you guys?" Zoe asks when we meet her and Adhira in front of our building, and for some reason my brain interprets it as a no family weekend—a weekend with no family.

Fortunately, Skyler speaks first, waving this off. "My family's been here a hundred times."

"My mom couldn't get the time off work," I say, wondering if this is the same thing I told Skyler when I moved in. Given the way one of his eyebrows lifts, I think it might be.

"On a weekend? Capitalism is the fucking worst." Adhira sucks on her vape, then passes it to Skyler.

Zoe peers up at the sky before sliding a giant pair of sunglasses onto her face. The day is freezing, with rare sunshine peeking through, but competing with Rowan always puts a fire in my veins. "What does she do?"

I shouldn't be shocked by this question. NYU is a place where people flaunt labels, where who you are and more importantly, who your parents are, matter. The school comes with a price tag, not just tuition but the cost of living. Adhira's parents are surgeons, and Zoe's dad has the kind of finance job that keeps him at the office so much she rarely sees him when she goes home to visit. There's a guy on my floor whose mom is a senator and a girl in my psych class who was a child actress.

And this is the only reasonable explanation for why I tell them "lawyer," a single word I wish I could swallow back.

The lie is sour on my tongue. I don't want to be ashamed of where I come from. And yet once it's out there, I can't take it back. Can't say, "just kidding, she's a paralegal"—even though a paralegal is a more than respectable career, that she works so hard, that this job is the only reason we were able to gain some semblance of financial independence after my dad went to prison.

"My mom too!" Zoe says. "What kind of law?"

Skyler, seeming to notice my discomfort, lets out a dramatic groan. "As much as I love talking about our parents, are we gonna do this thing or what?"

"We're not just going to do it; we're going to win it," Adhira corrects, then turns to me. "What's the first clue?"

The heaviness is slower to lift than I'd like, but by the time we've grabbed street art that really ~moves you~ (three sparse lines of poetry stickered to a telephone pole) and a street that shares a name with one in Seattle (Broadway, which seemed so obvious that Rowan sent back a dozen eye roll emojis), my laughter is more fluid, my limbs looser. It's my first time hanging out with all three of them, and Adhira and Zoe get extremely invested in the game, helping me stage more artistic shots.

We get cupcakes at the world-famous Magnolia Bakery, because I admitted I hadn't been there yet. Adhira leans in and snaps a photo of me with a vanilla cupcake. "An embarrassingly over-the-top tourist," she says, and I groan and try to swipe it from her.

"Uncalled for. This is delicious."

"Yeah, but it's just so basic."

"Gotta agree with Adhira on this one," Zoe says. "They have much better cupcakes at Billy's."

Skyler polishes off his cupcake in two bites. "That's only because you haven't tried—"

Adhira gives him a death glare. "If you're about to mention a cupcake shop in Staten Island, I swear to God—"

This leads us on a quest to Billy's Bakery in Chelsea for a taste test, because it's only fair.

"This is better than the Staten Island Cakery," Skyler whispers to me, and I try my hardest not to laugh. "But don't tell Adhira."

Rowan sends back a Dunkin' Donuts for local delicacy, and I send a picture of a halal food cart. Pigeons fighting over a sliver of hot dog for wildlife in action.

Zoe points out the High Line, an elevated park built on a former strip of railroad. "My favorite place in the city," she says. "Maybe it'll be yours, too?"

The park is a mix of greenery and public art with stunning views of the city and Hudson River. With a burst of pride, I realize I'm starting to identify more and more pieces of New York geography.

"So I want to know more about this girl," Adhira says as we weave our way around locals and tourists taking advantage of the sunshine, posing for photos, asking each other, Hey, what's that building over there? "She must be really special to have made this for you. And you guys are still together in January of freshman year? That's impressive."

I lower my phone, examining the picture I just took of a building that looks as though it's been folded like an accordion. I have to take Rowan to this park the next time she visits.

"Well…" I trail off, because while I've talked about Rowan, I haven't exactly told our whole story. I'm not sure if anything could do her justice, but I'll give it my best. "We were rivals in high school. Always the top two, obnoxiously competitive with each other. I'd sort of had feelings for her for a while, but I thought she absolutely despised me. Until the last day of school."

Zoe lets out a squeal. "You're kidding. That's adorable."

"And hot," Adhira adds. "You thought you hated each other and then turns out, you love each other?" Then she shakes her head, black curls sliding off her shoulder. "God, I feel so single."

I give them an abbreviated version of what happened on the last day of senior year, explaining Howl, the scavenger hunt-slash-Assassin game we played, and how we teamed up when we overheard other students plotting to take us down. A familiar warmth blooms in my chest, the awkwardness from earlier nearly gone.

"And you had her name the whole time?" Skyler says. They're all rapt, Zoe's chin propped in her hands, Adhira barely blinking. We've managed to snag a spot on some benches that overlook car traffic below. "She was your target? That could have blown up in your face so hard."

"I thought it would be my undoing too. We had this huge fight about it, but then we met up for the last clue… and the rest is history."

"That is so fucking romantic, I can't stand it," Zoe says. "The most effort my ex ever put in was when he bought me a box of chocolates for my birthday. And he ate half of them before giving them to me because he was, and I quote, ‘really hungry.'?"

"I feel like I need higher standards after hearing this." Adhira glances at Skyler, gives him a nudge with her elbow. "Why didn't you ever do that for me?"

"Because I was sixteen and an idiot?" he says, and though they both laugh at this, I don't miss the way his gaze lingers on her after she's looked away.

"I went on a date with a guy I met on Hinge last night," Zoe says. "He was really sweet. Not a fuckboy." She nods toward my phone. "Maybe I should send him this as inspiration."

I save the last clue for the end, not broadcasting it to the rest of the group because I like the idea of keeping this one close. Something that reminds me of you. A bookstore window with a Valentine's Day display, stacks of romance novels.

Rowan: you win, but that picture melted my heart so much that I don't even mind

Neil: Video chat tonight?

Rowan: please. I miss your face.

"You guys really didn't have to spend your whole Saturday doing this," I say, inordinately touched. "Thank you. Truly."

"It was fun," Adhira says. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Zoe grins. "I'll bring Steve!"

As we part ways, Adhira and Zoe off to an East Village nursery for a new plant Zoe promises not to kill, while Skyler and I head back home to Greenwich, I realize two things:

One, that I can tell which direction is uptown and which is downtown without looking at a map.

And two, that I'd asked Rowan if "my roommate and his friends" could help—maybe they're becoming my friends, too.

"You didn't have to cover for me," I tell Skyler. Despite the cold, the sun was too difficult to resist, so we're sitting in Washington Square Park. "When they were asking about my parents earlier."

"Yeah. No problem." He stretches out his long legs. "I could tell there was maybe something else going on there?"

I know I don't owe him an explanation, and I don't want to bring it back up and risk sinking myself underwater. That letter has to remain firmly back in Seattle—it's my only hope of staying afloat. Still, I find myself wanting to give him a fragment of the truth, just enough to keep him from asking any additional questions. "We… don't have as much money as some other people here. As a lot of people here, I don't think."

Skyler nods. "You don't have to hide that if you don't want to. You know they don't really care what your parents do, right?"

"What my mom does. It's just her."

"I'm sorry," he says in this tone I've never heard. "I'm sorry it got weird. Family shit can be complicated."

And if that isn't the most succinct way of summing it up, in pure Skyler fashion.

I paste on a smile, trying to push away the swirl of feelings that this conversation has dragged to the surface. My chest won't tighten if I don't let it. My breathing can remain calm. Not thinking about him, not going there, not now. I am in control.

"It can indeed. It's a wonder all of us are so normal and well adjusted."

Then Skyler gives me this goofy grin. "Is it weird to say I missed you over the holidays?"

And that's when I finally break. I have to know the truth. "You really like hanging out? With me?"

Skyler just blinks at me. "Did we not just spend the whole day hanging out?"

I can't help laughing at that, because maybe I really am an idiot. My smile is unforced now. Easier. "No, we did—I'm just… I guess I've just wondered if maybe you felt obligated because we live together. The whole making friends thing—it's something I'm still trying to figure out on this coast, I guess."

"You have to put yourself out there."

"But it seems to come easy to you. That day when you put together that game of Ultimate Frisbee, you'd just met all those guys and they were immediately on board with playing. That doesn't happen in Seattle."

"I don't think it's regional," Skyler says, tossing a wink to a girl giving him a very clear once-over. "But if we're being real, I haven't seen any of those guys since then. I mean, I've seen them around campus, but I haven't spent quality time with them. Maybe I know a lot of people, maybe I have a lot of friends, but they're not the kind of people I can really be myself with, I guess. The kind of people I can open up to." It's to his credit that he's able to follow up the casual arrogance of "Maybe I have a lot of friends" with something truly genuine. "You know how you had, uh, a certain reputation in high school?"

"I was a nerd. You can say it."

He laughs, swipes a hand through his floppy hair. "Well… I was a bit of a partier. I was the guy with the older siblings who could get alcohol, the guy with the parents who didn't care if anyone came over and drank or smoked. People came to me for a good time, but that was pretty much it."

None of this is too surprising, and yet—

"That's not what you wanted?"

"Back then, maybe. I liked the attention. The status. But now that I'm here… no, I don't think it's what I want. Not all the time, at least." He gestures between the two of us. "I don't think I've had a meaningful conversation with anyone not related to me in a long time. Being around Adhira again is making me realize just how much of an ass I was in high school. I was trying so hard to prove myself to people, to be the life of the party… and it's only recently that I've decided I don't really care what anyone else thinks about me. I don't have to try so fucking hard."

Even if he and I had significantly different levels of popularity, I can relate to that: the trying so fucking hard. The fatigue that accompanies that kind of effort.

"I think I might want those deep-level friendships? Like, I still want to have fun, but I'm pretty sure I can have both," Skyler continues. "And you're nonjudgmental. I feel relaxed around you, like I could tell you anything and you'd still think I'm a decent human being."

I am so touched by this, I'm not sure I could put it into words. At the beginning of the year, I thought Skyler was so surface level that we'd have nothing in common. I assumed he wouldn't want to be friends with me, so I created space between us, when all this time he's wanted a close friendship just as much as I have.

"Of course. Of course you can."

"I'm not hanging out with you because of obligation," he emphasizes, and then turns the question on me. "Are you?"

I shake my head. "At first I thought I'd have dinner with you and your dad and then we'd be polite to each other, but we'd eventually have completely separate lives. But being here is more overwhelming than I thought it would be, and I think you might be helping me get out of my shell. And convincing me that Staten Island is a hidden gem of the tristate area."

Skyler laughs, but I can tell he's touched, too. "We're really bonding, huh," he says with a nudge of my arm.

"I think we are." I can feel my own body relaxing as I stretch out my much shorter legs, shoulders finally settling against the back of the bench.

"Speaking of putting yourself out there. I have something I should probably tell you." For the very first time in the nearly six months I've known him, Skyler looks nervous. It's a bit like seeing a golden retriever refuse to play fetch. "I, uh, might have feelings for Adhira?"

I have to bite back a smile—it's far from a surprise. "I've been wondering about that."

He lets out a long whoosh of breath. "Shit. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Actually, no. Both of you flirt, but that's also just a you thing. I've seen you do it with the janitorial staff and the people who work in the dining hall, and—"

"It's a gift and a curse," Skyler says glumly, hanging his head. "I can't help being charming."

"And the security guards—"

"Okay, okay!" He holds up his hands, laughing, but then turns serious again. "She was my first real girlfriend, and I think she might have ruined me for anyone else. No one's ever measured up to her. That might be why I don't do relationships," he admits. "Because some part of me is waiting for her to decide that she still has feelings for me. And if she does, well… I'm not that immature kid from high school anymore."

Despite all the flirting, I realize I haven't seen him with any other girls in a while. I have to choose my words carefully, because I can't quite believe I'm about to give Skyler relationship advice.

"She clearly likes you," I say. "I'm not sure if I can tell whether it goes beyond friendship, but there's something there."

He buries his head in his hands. "It's not just like for me," he says with a little heartsick moan. "I think I really love her. I'm not sure if she'd ever take me seriously, but we were kids back then. Sixteen and seventeen. And now… I feel like if there's any chance we're on the same page, we could give it a real shot." He thumps a hand to his heart. "I know sometimes I act like this happy-go-lucky guy, but I'm tortured, man. Pining for someone, having no idea if they feel the same way…"

"I think I know a little something about that."

"It's fucking brutal, isn't it?"

"Is it too obvious to say to tell her how you feel? Without pushing her, of course—you don't want her to feel any pressure to respond a certain way," I say. "But without sounding too cliché… honesty can go a long way. Especially if it's earnest. Adhira's used to you joking around, not being too serious. Show her that you can be. That this isn't a joke to you, and that you want to be serious when it comes to her."

"Serious. Yes. I can do serious." As though to prove it, he schools his face into a properly stoic expression, though I catch one eyebrow twitching, unable to keep up the ruse. "Is that how you did it? Did you both just come out and say it?"

"Sort of," I say. "I actually wrote it in her yearbook first, earlier that day. But I told her not to read it until the game was over and then proceeded to silently panic for the next few hours." I'd been so nervous, terrified she'd glance at it during the day and then laugh in my face.

"Oh shit. That's romantic as hell. You guys are really making it work," he says. "It's still going well? I assume so, what with the whole scavenger hunt and all."

"It's…" I catch myself before "good" or "great" spills out of my mouth. With Skyler opening up, and especially after our earlier conversation, I can't help wanting to unpack some of my own baggage too. "If I'm being honest… we've had some challenges."

He spreads his arms wide across the back of the bench. "Well. Lay it on me."

It takes me a while to work up to it. I've never had conversations like this with friends that go beyond the theoretical, and certainly not in public, though no one's paying us much attention. Sean, Cyrus, and Adrian know Rowan and I have slept together, mainly because when they asked, I immediately turned bright red, but that's it. When we talked about dating over winter break, a bowling alley didn't seem like the place to bring it up.

This seems to be a pattern with me: never having the right words or the right setting to have any kind of conversation that matters.

If I can't have it with my friends from high school, then maybe I can have it with Skyler.

"Things aren't as good… physically… as they used to be," I finally manage, keeping my voice low. I run my anxious palms over the thighs of my jeans. "That isn't—that's not something you'd have any experience with, is it?"

Instantly I regret it, half expecting him to make a joke.

"Not unusual for a long-distance relationship, I'm guessing," he says, sounding sincere, and that gives me more courage.

"It's almost like there's more pressure when we're together, and we don't get much alone time when we're at home. But lately I've been wondering if I'm just bad at this."

"And you guys have talked about it?"

"Well, not exactly…"

He crosses his arms over his chest, as though there is a truly simple solution here. "How are you going to know how to make it better if you don't talk about it?"

Excellent question.

I bury my head in my hands, letting out a low groan. "Oh my God. I am an idiot."

Skyler claps me on the back. "You're not! You're just still figuring it out. Hell, we all are. It's not the easiest thing to talk about. But believe me, it's much easier to talk when you're not caught up in the moment."

Of all people, Skyler giving me advice about communicating in the bedroom is not at all what I expected and yet so deeply appreciated. Skyler Benedetti: feminist icon?

"Have you ever used lube?" he asks.

My cheeks grow warm as I shake my head, mentally kicking myself for never thinking of it. Maybe that's the problem: our first time was so special that everything else seemed like it would fall into place without effort.

But with Rowan, there's nothing I want more than to make that effort.

"You should. It's incredible. And not just for her," he adds. "You can ask her what she wants. What she likes. It's a lot easier than trying to read minds." A grin. "Communication is probably fifty percent of the whole thing. Maybe more."

This sexual enlightenment is making my mind spin. "Thank you," I say, meaning it. "If my face ever returns to its regular shade of pale, then I'll put all of this to good use."

"Thank you. I've got to start brainstorming how to tell Adhira I'm a lovesick idiot."

To prepare for my next trip to Boston, I buy three different brands of lube from an adult shop in the West Village, each one promising to completely transform my sex life. I only blush a little when the cashier tells me to have fun.

We fully intend to, I think to myself, and that confidence buoys me for the rest of the week.