Page 4 of One True Loves

I wish Jay was here to hold my hand and let my head rest on his shoulder, like my friends are all doing with their people right now.

But of course, he can’t be.

Chapter Two

Jay Parikh and I started talking in October. And by talking I don’t mean just saying what’s up in the stairwells at Chrysalis Academy, the arts high school we all attend. I mean, like, seeing each other. Not only each other, but, like, not seeing anyone else? It’s casual.

It’snotdating. Because as Jay told me after we first hooked up at Brett Kwan’s Halloween party (he was Waldo fromWhere’s Waldo?, I was Eartha Kitt as Catwoman), he doesn’t do dating. Not because he doesn’twantto. But because of his parents. They want him to focus on school and not get distracted by girls. That’s the reason we have to sneak around a little bit—making out in the back of my mom’s minivan in the library parking lot and stealing away at parties and group hangs, instead of having, like, proper dates. We’ve never been on a proper date, I guess. Like in the movies, when the twenty-eight-year-old-looking teenager takes his girlfriend to some fancy Italianplace that’s not the Olive Garden and pulls out the chair and opens the door and for some reason drives a brand-new Audi. But whoreallygoes on dates like that anyway? And yeah, the sneakiness can get annoying sometimes. He sometimes takes hours to respond to my texts (if he even does at all), and then there was that one time I had to hide in his closet for a full-on hour when his mom unexpectedly stopped at home for some tea before her podiatrist appointment. But I go along with it because I want Jay.

I knew I wanted Jay from the minute I first saw him.

It was the first Thursday of this school year, in an advanced painting class. I’ve been conservatory-hopping since I first started Chrysalis freshman year—not because I’m unfocused, like Ms. Ramiro, the guidance counselor, tried to say. Nah, because I’m just really fucking talented in a lot of areas. But it being senior year and all, Ms. Ramiro said I could only take classes in my actual conservatory, visual arts. Minimum requirements for graduation or whatever. So that’s how I ended up at an easel next to the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen in my life.

Brown skin with floppy black hair. But not, like, annoying bro floppy—cool intentional floppy. A Low End Theory shirt, ripped black jeans, and Off-White Chicago Jordans.Style.A half smirk and dark brown eyes that were alert, assessing. And just thevibecoming off him. Normally I don’t care what people think of me, but with Jay, I had this immediate and overwhelming urge to get his approval. To do a little dance toget his attention. To throw myself across his workstation and demand that he draw me like one of his French girls.

And then he talked to me.

“Hey, lady.”

Believe me, I know that should be corny as hell. And I probably would have laughed and kept right on moving if it was anyone else. But for some reason those words spun around in my head, did fluttery figure eights around my heart like fucking butterflies, and then hit my stomach like a lightning bolt and made me ache down to my toes. It was stupid.

It waseverything.

I want Jay. And this sneaking around, together-but-not-really-together setup is the only way I get to have him for now. So I go with it. How can I not?

Prom is at the Aquarium of the Pacific in downtown Long Beach, which I thought would feel like we’re going on a fifth-grade field trip or whatever. But I was wrong. The tanks line the walls from floor to ceiling, casting the main room in a romantic blue glow, with the fish projecting soft shadows across the bodies moving on the dance floor. And there’s twinkly lights hanging from the ceilings, which seem to give everything an extra otherworldly sparkle. The only thing taking away from the magic is the old-ass Bruno Mars song blasting from the speakers, like someone’s parents were in charge of this playlist, but that’s temporary.

“Oh my god,” Tessa exhales as we walk under the life-sized model of the giant blue whale hanging in the lobby. I canalmost hear the words starting to form in her head, her hands itching to type this setting down. “How is this so perfect?”

“Are you happy?” Sam asks. His arm hooks around her hips, and he leans in his chin to rest on her shoulder.

“Yes,” she says, all cute and quiet. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And then they kiss, and I realize I need to stop staring because they’re having amomentand I’m being a creeper.

“Where do y’all want to go first?” I say, turning to Theo and Lavon. “You think the moon jelly touch tank is open?”

Lavon laughs, but Theo’s attention is somewhere else. I follow his gaze to the photo booth that’s set up. Grayson and Poppy, two kids Tessa used to chill with junior year before she got her head on straight, are wrapped up in each other and doing the most with sharp poses and puckered lips. Which,okay. They ain’t Gigi Hadid.

“You want some glamour shots?” I say, elbowing Theo.

“It might be entertaining, right?” He shrugs, looking much less composed than I’m used to seeing him. “But, you know, in an ironic way.”

Tessa laughs, out of her Sam spell. “Yeah! We have to. We can pose like this!” She stands behind Sam and wraps her arms around his belly. Her head cocks to the side at an unnatural angle and a plastic smile stretches across her face.

“Perfect!” I shout, jumping behind her and joining in. “We gotta embrace the cheese.”

Theo lets out a quiet laugh. “Yes, I know it’s a bit silly....”

Lavon moves in closer to him, putting his hand on the small of his back. “It’s not silly if it makes you happy, babe.” Theo smiles for real, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, and then they lean in for a small, sweet kiss.

“Okay, pictures it is!” I shout, springing back from Tessa and Sam, who have that whole starry-eyed thing going again now, too. “But first, let’s grab a table before all the good ones are gone. You know the early birds already grabbed the tables by those Nemo-and-Dory-looking fish, but maybe if we hurry up we can sit by the rays. They have such cute little faces.”

What am I even talking about? I have no idea, but I make my way through the crowd, and the two happy couples follow.

The next hour passes by in a blur. Luckily, the music shifts from parent playlist to older sibling who’s only a little bit out of touch, so there’s some bops in there. I even get Tessa up to dance, and sheneverdances. Like, ever. I find myself taking out my internal camera again, trying to memorize these moments that I know are fleeting: Screaming along Beyoncé lyrics with Tessa. Sam doing some corny-ass boy-band-looking moves with so much confidence that people stop to look. The widest smile I’ve ever seen on Theo’s face as he and Lavon move in tandem. When they play some whiny slow-dance ballads and my friends move together like magnets and I’m left alone, the fifth wheel, I just go to the bathroom. I have no interest in memorizing that.

The whole time my neck is twisting around, hoping to catch sight of Jay. I keep it on the down low, though, becauseI’m not trying to get a lecture from Tessa or Theo tonight.

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