Page 66 of Cool for the Summer

“What about Beck? What’s going on?” Pete’s image is sort of blurry, but his voice comes through loud and clear.

“I don’t know what you think is going on, Kingston,” I say, “but again, it’s none of your?—”

“They’ve been sleeping together all summer,” Kingston says with an air of victory.

“How the hell do you know that?” I ask, more curious than upset. “Did Beck?—”

“Beck didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Every time you two were in a room together, it was obvious by the heart eyes you were sending each other when you thought no one was looking. And then you both suddenly got way more touchy-feely, and don’t even get me started on the vibes—someone way less intelligent than me could see you two were fucking after spending two minutes with you. When Beck started making plans to stay in Rosedale and you were not part of those plans, I could tell we were in for some kind of train wreck. I could see how happy you were, and I couldn’t understand why you didn’t. I thought maybe you needed a nudge, so I told Beck?—”

“You told him to tell me how he felt about me,” I say numbly. Without Kingston’s interference, would Beck have ever said anything? Would I never have found out that he loves—loved—me?

“I told him I’ve never seen you this happy before and that if he wanted to keep you, he’d have to fight for it.”

I don’t have anything to say to that. Iwashappy.

“You and Beck?” Pete asks with his oh-so-carefully soft voice. “Together?”

“We were never together,” I say, desperate to explain my side. “It was a summer fling, that’s all. This is why I never get involved with roommates. You get it, don’t you, Pete? It never ends well. I thought this time we were on the same page because we had an expiration date, but then I went and fell in love with him and ruined everything.”

Two pairs of eyes stare at me, shocked, from across the miles and I replay what I just said in my head.

“No! Shit. No—he fell in love with me! That’s what I meant to say. Beck fell in love with me. Not the other way around. That was a mistake.” The longer I talk, the crazier I feel.

I didn’t fall in love with Beck. I don’t do love. I haven’t since Aidan took my heart, stomped all over it, and returned it in the form of a battered banker’s box of stuff I’d left in his dorm room over the years.

“I’m not in love with him,” I say again, sounding unhinged to my own ears. “Because—because—” Because if I’m in love with him, that would mean I’d have to face the fact that he was right, about everything. About me treating him in a very boyfriend-y way. About actually wanting the house and the dog and the partner. About wanting the kind of love that Jack and Pete so fearlessly, so gratefully, embody. About wanting a shared future with all of those things in it, and more.

But that means a future where someone could at any minute decide they don’t want me anymore and crush me under their foot.

Only I know Beck would never. He’s not Aidan. And I’m not the same person I was at twenty-two. I’m not saying I’ve matured that much, but maybe I’ve made enough mistakes that I’m able to admit when I’ve made a colossal one.

“Donovan,” Pete says, the use of my whole name getting my attention, “you were a one-man guy. Until you weren’t. But I think that’s still who you are, deep down. Remember how I said your stubbornness is a strength, but it can also keep you from trying new things? Things that might make you happy? If Beck makes you happy, do you know how stupid you’d have to be not to hang onto him with both hands?”

I look away from the screen and the concerned faces of my friends up to the trees towering over my park bench. I can only just make out the fading blue sky through the leaves. If I was in Rosedale, I could look at the trees with Beck. We could sit outside until bugs threaten to eat us alive, and then we could go in and curl up on the couch watching TV, or talking until we’re yawning more than communicating, and then shuffle off to bed, our shared bed. In our shared home. Our shared life.

I’m sick of my own stubbornness. It’s time to let go of that old hurt. Time to be honest with myself about what I want. And what I don’t want.

I don’t want to be in New York a second longer. It no longer feels like home to me. Home is where Beck is.

I tip my head down and glare at the screen. “You two are the most meddlesome busybodies I ever met. You—” I point at Pete “—I’ll deal with when you get back from Europe. And you—” I swing my finger to Kingston “—just wait until you fall in love and see how motherfucking meddlesome I can be.”

“Does that mean you’re coming home?” Kingston asks hopefully.

I’m about to promise to catch the next train, but I hesitate. I don’t have anything to offer Beck except the dubious promise that I actually want to be his boyfriend. It seems paltry in comparison to the plethora of skills and assets he’s bringing to the relationship.

“I’ll be back soon,” I say instead. “I’ve got to take care of some things first.”

“Don’t be too long,” Kingston says. “Beck’s not going to wait forever.”

“Then help me. Get me the contact info for the real estate agent—what’s her name?”

“Noelle.” Both of them answer simultaneously.

“That’s the one.”

“What are you planning?” Pete asks.

“Just a little something to prove to Beck that it’s taken me a while to get there, but I finally know exactly what I want.”

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