Page 32 of One Little Problem
6. When good plans go bad
Ryan rocks? All hail Ryan?
Ryan
I had interests, tons of other interests outside of Luke. Just none that were as interesting. There was nothing standing in our way now. I wanted to enjoy this. Simple as that. Once I had the idea about staying here, it was hard to ignore it. Staying here meant more Luke. More Luke! What could be better than that?
“So, uh, our summer plans,” Luke said when he saw me at school. Good, we were on the same page. He was wearing a white graphic t-shirt that was faded and old blue jeans, nothing fancy at all, and he still made my heart flutter. Though, it was a little weird to see him now, since it was like five minutes after we were both supposed to be in homeroom. So much for me winning that bet with my homeroom teacher.
“Oh, I have tons of ideas for how to spend our summer." No shirts, suntan oil, cool drinks…
He frowned. “Just, I thought you were leaving. I mean, you got in—” Maybe we weren’t on the same page after all.
I interrupted him. “Doesn’t mean I have to go.”
“Why not? I’ll be working the whole summer.” What, could he not wait to get rid of me? Absence was supposed to make the heart grow fonder. That’s how the saying went. No, all absence did was make the heart forget what your face looked like. Staying, staying made the heart still feel the same way. There had to be a more romantic way to put that.
“And I’ll make you cool pitchers of lemonade and be there to massage your sore muscles and whisper sweet nothings.” I tried to look enticing, then I stopped, because it didn’t seem very likely I’d be able to pull that off.
Though Luke didn’t comment on whatever expression I had been making before. He took issue with something else. “You can’t whisper.”
“I can so. What do you call this?” I cleared my throat and then whispered, “I’m whispering, loser.” See, wouldn’t he hate not to have this in his life?
“Zach can hear you clearly from the other end of the room.” Guess he was coming in from behind me, which meant he was even later than both of us.
I rolled my eyes. “No, he can’t.”
“Yes, I can,” Zach said.
Huh. “I’ll work on it,” I told Luke. “See, now I have something to do during the summer.” This was going to be great.
Luke stared at me with an unsure expression on his face. “Ryan, are you serious?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Feels like it is. Don’t want you to have to stay here.”
“Don’t have to.” I smiled reassuringly. “Just feel more and more like I want to.”
I tried with the science stuff, I got in. Didn’t mean I had to go. Luke was the best thing in my life. Why wouldn’t that be my focus? The guy that made me happy. I didn’t know how to explain it. But should I really have to? There weren’t words, really. It was just this feeling; I felt it every time I looked at him. The way he was already always smiling at me when I started smiling at him. He felt the same. He had to. Us being together the whole summer would be amazing.
I had never been the kid who slept in, ignored his alarm and burrowed into bed, desperate to get every last ounce of sleep before being dragged into the world. I never pressed snooze, I never begged for five more minutes. While not exactly peppy and perky in the morning, or ever, I was still ready to rise and shine, get to it, get things done.
Maybe I got it now. Wanting to keep things paused in a good moment. I wanted five more minutes.
* * *
Luke
Ryan’s dad wasn’t supposed to get home until after six, so I was picking Ryan up at 5:30. A little early for a date, but again, it let us avoid Ryan’s dad. Or that was the plan, but I didn’t get to Ryan’s house until six. I was busy. Doing what? Staring at my wall. Okay, so I wasn’t doing much physically, but mentally my mind was busy. It just kept thinking about Ryan staying here for the summer.
“You’re bisexual!” Ryan shouted at me as soon as I arrived to pick him up for a date. Was this the strangest version of a surprise party, where people told you your sexuality as soon as you entered a room? Arguably, that might be more surprising than a bunch of people jumping out at you from the shadows.
“Thanks for informing me, but you’re a little late with that information.”
“You had a wrinkle in your brow,” he said, soothing a thumb over it. “That happened all the time during your ‘can’t catch me gay thoughts’ freak out.”
“Most people call it a sexuality crisis,” I told him dryly.
