Page 101 of Don't Let Me Go
I laugh and pick a salty kernel out of Riley’s hair.
“You guys seriously need to cool it,” Audrey chides us from the floor, where she and Tala are spread out on my aunt’s homemade afghan and some cushions. “All the PDA was cute when we were having cake and opening presents, but this inability to keep your hands off each other is almost as nauseating as that scene where the First Lady got pecked to death by that zombie bald eagle.”
“Are we being a lot?” I ask.
Duy raises an eyebrow. “You’re beingthe most.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Riley scoffs, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my cheek. “They’re just jealous. They’ve never seen true happiness before.”
This earns us another round of boos and an even more violent pelting of popcorn.
“Okay, okay, stop!” I laugh. “We’ll cool it.”
Duy and Audrey glare at us, but Tala lowers her fistful of popcorn and smiles. “Just for the record, we are genuinely happy for you guys.”
“Obviously, we’rehappyfor you,” Duy grumbles as they lounge back in my aunt’s recliner and resume texting Caleb, who’s vacationing in Maine this week. “We just don’t want you to bemorehappy than us.”
This earns Duy an eye-roll and a popcorn-pelting from Tala.
“Well, if it evens things out,” I tell them, “my parents still aren’t talking to me.”
The room goes silent (aside from the screams on the TV, where the zombies are now treating Congress like an all-you-can-eat buffet). My self-deprecating joke, which I thought was funny, has instantly killed the party vibe.
“You still haven’t heard from them?” Tala asks, sitting up in concern.
“Oh. Uh, no,” I mumble. “Not yet. But it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Audrey huffs indignantly. “Your parents are assholes.”
“Babe, let’s maybe not call other people’s parents assholes,” Tala suggests.
“But they are! They’re assholes!” Audrey doubles down. “Seriously, if you’re a parent, you have one job—to love your child unconditionally. That’s it. And if you can’t do that, if your love comes with conditions about who your kid can be or who they can love, then you shouldn’t have kids in the first place.”
“I think what Audrey’s trying to say,” Tala adds diplomatically, “is that we’re sorry your parents are still struggling to come to terms with the person you’re becoming. But like I said before, sometimes it takes time.”
Riley slides his hand into mine and squeezes. “And in the meantime, you’ve got me.”
“And me!” Tala adds, hopping up onto the sofa and pulling me into a hug.
“Me too!” Duy shouts, vaulting onto the sofa and into my lap.
“Come on, Audrey,” Riley calls as he wraps his arms around me. “Group hug!”
Audrey snorts. “You’re all ridiculous.” But a second later, she climbs onto the sofa and joins our popcorn-scented dogpile.
Someone’s knee is in my groin. Someone else’s elbow jabs my ribs. I don’t think I’ve ever been this physically uncomfortable in my life. Or this happy.
“I am legitimately obsessed with your friends,” I tell Riley a few hours later when we’re cleaning up after the party. “You’re really lucky to have them.”
“I think it’s safe to call them your friends too,” he says with a chuckle as he sweeps some stray popcorn into a dustpan.
“I didn’t want to assume.”
“You’re joking, right? At this point, I’m pretty sure my friends prefer you to me.”
“That makes sense.”
“Hey!” Riley barks as he swats me with his broom.
