Page 46 of Don't Let Me Go
“I don’t have to get naked or anything, do I?”
At the thought of Jackson in nothing but his birthday suit, I feel my face flush. I immediately try to block out the image. Though if my dreams are accurate, I’ve already seenplenty.
“Oh my gosh, of course not!” Duy laughs. “This shoot is abouthow good people lookinmy clothes. Not how good you’d look without any.”
Now it’s Jackson’s turn to blush. “Just checking,” he mumbles. “I guess I’m in if Riley’s in.”
Duy turns and flashes me a wide but pointed smile that makes it clear that I better not screw this up for them. Models like Jackson don’t come along every day.
“Sure,” I sigh. “I’m in.”
“Yay!” Duy squeals. “This is going to be so much fun! You’re going tolovethe outfits. Just don’t eat anything for the next twenty-four hours. The camera adds ten pounds.”
“Duy!” Tala whispers, shooting them a warning look that I can only assume meansMaybe don’t tell your friend who once had an eating disorder not to eat.
“Kidding!” Duy exclaims, turning slightly pink. “Everyone looks great. No one needs to worry about their figure. All bodies are beautiful!”
I shake my head and let out an annoyed snort, which I instantly regret when Jackson clocks it.
“Am I missing something?” he asks.
Of all the things we’ve discussed during our late-night texting sessions, my (very) brief flirtation with anorexia is not one of them, and I plan to keep it that way. I already have my dad and my friends playing Food Police; I don’t need Jackson worrying about my weight or giving me concerned looks anytime I happen to skip a meal.
Thankfully, Tala notices my discomfort and deftly changes the subject. “Speaking of beautiful bodies, isn’t that the boy from Rink-O-Rama that you were flirting with?”
Duy sits up ramrod-straight and instinctively smooths down their hair. “Where?”
“Over by the bar.”
Duy covertly looks over their shoulder and gasps. “Oh my God, it’s Caleb!”
“Who’s Caleb?” Jackson asks.
Duy leans over the table and whispers conspiratorially, “Caleb Holzinger. The boy I’ve been texting fortwo weeks. He goes to a fancy private school in Winter Park but he’s super-down-to-earth. I want to suck off his face and live in his biceps.”
Jackson and I steal a quick glance at Caleb, whose brooding eyes, strong jaw, and languorous posture remind me of a figure in a Pre-Raphaelite painting. If guys in Pre-Raphaelite paintings wore crop tops and camo pants.
“He’s cute,” Jackson observes with a nod of approval.
The comment surprises me. I didn’t think straight boys noticed how other guys looked. Or if they did, I didn’t think their bro-code permitted them to admit it in public.
More to the point, I can’t help wondering who else Jackson might think is cute.
“Yes, Calebiscute,” Tala agrees. “And based on some light Instagram stalking that Duy and I have been doing, we know that Caleb is also witty, smart, socially conscious, and the first ever trans president of his school’s GSA. But for some reason Duy’s not interested in asking him out.”
“I never said I wasn’tinterested,” Duy huffs. “I just said I was keeping my options open. You know, in case I meet Michael B. Jordan or Manny Jacinto.”
Tala gives Duy a pitying look and gently squeezes their hand. “You know that’s literally never going to happen?”
“Why don’t you go say hello?” Jackson suggests. “I mean, if you’ve been texting, why not?”
Duy shrugs with feigned indifference, but I can tell it’s just a cover for their nerves. The more Duy likes a boy, the more self-conscious they get. And given the sudden dip in Duy’s otherwise insanely high levels of confidence, they must be into Caleb a lot.
“You all need to stop being so thirsty,” Duy retorts. “Just because Caleb and I have been texting every day doesn’t mean helikes melikes me.”
These words hit a little too close to home, and I can feel my cheeks burn. It takes all my strength not to look at Jackson.
“Oh my gosh, are you serious?” Tala exclaims. “Until you made me read your entire text history with Caleb, I never knew the eggplant emoji could be used like that. Trust me, helikesyou.”
