Meet Cute Diary Page 9

  I roll my eyes.

  “Anyway, try not to get too worked up over it,” Brian says. “I mean, it’s a summer camp. Everyone’s getting some nasty shit on them.”

  “That really doesn’t make me want to go back,” I say.

  Brian shrugs. “Then don’t, but you’re going to have to figure out another job or Mom’s gonna be pissed.”

  And obviously I know that, but hearing him say it just sinks my mood even lower. Becca better answer tonight because I’ve got a lot to say.

  Becca? Hello? It’s me, still waiting for a response!

  Becca, come on, this is getting ridiculous.

  I’M GONNA BLOCK YOU IF YOU DON’T ANSWER BINCH!

  Delivered

  As a matter of fact, Becca doesn’t answer, so I end up calling Drew instead. He puts me on speaker because he’s fixing his little brother’s bike or something, which means I have to keep my language PG in case anyone walks in, but wow, I go off.

  And afterward, he says something along the lines of, “Are you really that mad?”

  So I go off again.

  “Okay, okay,” he says, “breathe. At least you have a job, right?”

  Maybe, and maybe I’m not really mad at him even if he did post without my permission again, and really, I’m just upset because things have been all kinds of all over the place lately—getting puked on, the massive upsurge in Diary demands since the troll showed up, getting half ghosted by Becca.

  And yeah, it’s the last part that stings the worst.

  “Noah?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’m just a little distracted.”

  “Something to do with the Diary?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, “and to be honest, I don’t think it’s something you can really help with.”

  We sit in silence for a little while, and for a moment, I wonder if he hung up. Then he says, “I’m sorry.”

  And it’s late, and I have to get up early tomorrow morning to go to work at a job I’m not sure I want, but suddenly I just really want to see him.

  “How long is it going to take you to finish that bike?” I ask.

  “I just finished, why?”

  “Do you want to go stargazing or something? Preferably something super romantic? Um, you know, for the Diary.”

  He chuckles and says, “I’ll be over in twenty.”

  One thing that’s nice about fake dating an older, cis guy is that we can walk around at night without being worried about someone jumping us. After all, Drew’s close to six feet tall, and while he’s no football player, I don’t doubt he could get a pretty nasty punch in if he tried.

  It’s cold as hell, and I don’t realize it until we’re already a few blocks from the apartment. Like a true romance hero, he takes off his jacket and slings it around my shoulders, and I snuggle into the overwhelming smell of his cologne until it makes me dizzy.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “No clue. I just figured we could walk until we find something cool.”

  But everything’s pretty much closed, so we’re really just enjoying the night. I don’t mind. It’s not like Florida, where mosquitoes swarm every inch of your body if you dare venture out after seven. The air feels cool and dry against my skin, though my breath gets harder and harder to catch with every step.

  “You don’t do a lot of hiking, do you?” he asks.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m from Florida. The closest we have to a mountain down there is a garbage dump.”

  Drew winces. “Gross. You gotta get out more. I’m sure you can find an awesome hiking trail in Cali.”

  But I don’t want to think about Cali, or the summer ending and us going our separate ways. I just want to think about the stars as they stare down at us like we’re the only two people in the world, the warmth of his jacket tickling my skin.

  “Drew?” I say.

  He turns to look at me, and I just want to kiss him. So I do.

  His fingers snake underneath his jacket as they try to find my skin. They’re cold as they slip under my shirt and up my chest.

  His kisses are hungry, like he’s trying to get control over my body, and a part of me wants to let him. It says that I’m young and it’s the summer, and I should just surrender myself to every desire that’s ever run through my brain.

  But another part of me just feels like something’s wrong. I pull away from him, my breath ragged from the walk and the kissing.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, but I’m not sure why. I mean, he kissed me back, so he must not have hated it, but there’s no one around to perform for, and I’m not sure what it means about us or me or anything anymore.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  And I don’t know. Maybe I called the steps to the perfect relationship too well, and I’m getting lost in the Hesitation that’ll build us up to the perfect peak, but God, I wish we could just move past that already. Drew’s looking at me like he misses my body against his, and I want to give him that.

  But I also want to go home.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just getting kind of tired.”

  He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Yeah, it is pretty late, huh? You wanna head back?”

  I nod, relieved that he doesn’t push me for anything else. He just slips his hand into mine, and we trace the street again, creeping our way back to the apartment. Finally, when we’re downstairs, I start pulling his jacket off to hand back to him, but he says, “It’s fine. I’ll get it next time.”

  I want to object because something about the weight of it feels too heavy on my shoulders, but I don’t. I know I already ruined his night. The last thing I want to do is insult him.

  He bids me good night, and I race upstairs, shielding my face from the cold and the humiliation washing over me.

  Inbox (783)

  Anonymous asked: Hi, Noah! Are your posts getting deleted? I haven’t seen any in a while.

  Msjaygatsby asked: I’m sure your inbox is full, but did you get my last ask? I don’t want to hound you if you did.

  Pinkpurpleblue asked: When do we get relationship updates? TBH I love those more than the meet cutes!

  The next morning, Brian doesn’t ask why I was out so late, but I know he heard me come home. Part of me’s relieved that he’s giving me my space, but the other part wishes he’d act more like our parents—lecturing me about being responsible and staying safe and making me feel like all these decisions aren’t hanging on my shoulders alone, even if I did kind of give him shit for it the other day.

  I’m exhausted since I didn’t go to sleep until almost two and Brian woke me up at six thirty. It’s pretty ridiculous that they make us come in this early since the camp hasn’t even actually started yet, but I guess Brian’s orientation involves actual work that takes actual time instead of sitting around listening to a bunch of old people talk about their grandkids.

  The bright lights of the rec center give me a headache, and I struggle to keep my eyes open as I plop myself down onto the bleachers. The mistake I made yesterday was thinking I needed to seek out some responsibilities. I’m all but useless around here, so if anyone needs me, they’ll find me.

  And even though I embarrassed myself last night, I really wish Drew were here. No, I wish I were back at the bookstore. Drew could brew me coffee, and we could talk about the Diary, and things would fall into place.

  “Good morning.”

  I look up and cringe. Devin’s standing over me, a square cup carrier in his hands with two Starbucks cups in it.

  “What?” I snap.

  “I—I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he says. “I brought you a peace offering.”

  His hands are shaking so badly, I’m pretty sure he’s going to dump the hot coffee out on me. Two for two, I guess.

  I stand up and steady the carrier before it can slip out of his hands. “Are they both for me?” I ask.

  His eyes widen. “Do you want both?”

  I shrug, but jus
t settle on taking one of the cups. If he drops the other one, it’s his own problem. “What is it?” I ask as I bring the lid to my lips.

  “Vanilla latte.”

  I freeze, considering chucking the cursed drink across the room but also realizing this is my only chance at coffee for the day. “How did you know vanilla lattes are my favorite drink?”

  Devin blinks, removing his own cup from the carrier and setting the ugly cardboard on the bleachers. “I didn’t,” he says. “I just figured they’re a classic.”

  Accepting he hasn’t secretly been stalking my life since before I met him, I take a sip, and God, I missed Starbucks coffee. So sweet and pure.

  I’m hoping Devin’ll take that as his cue to leave, but instead, he sits down, graciously about a foot and a half away from me. He starts picking at the lid of his cup, then says, “I really am sorry about yesterday. I didn’t think that would happen.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, neither did I. Ever the optimist.”

  He looks up at that and smiles, but I don’t know what the hell he’s smiling at. “I was hoping we could start over. You know, because we’ll be working together for the summer.”

  It does feel a little hypocritical to tell him to go fuck himself while I’m drinking the coffee he brought me, but I’m also not sure how else to make it clear that I didn’t come here to make friends.

  Finally, I sigh, setting my coffee down and holding out a hand to him, saying, “Noah.”

  He takes it and smiles. “Devin.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “You’re Brian’s brother, right?” he says.

  I pause, an eyebrow raised. “Did he tell you about me?”

  Devin shakes his head. “I just overheard some people in the office talking about it.”

  We fall into silence, the only backdrop the sound of sneakers squeaking across the recently waxed floor. Maybe I should go find something to do. I feel kind of bad sitting around when I’m getting paid, but really, I just don’t want to sit with Devin anymore.

  I stand up and turn back to him with a forced smile. “Well, I’d better be off.”

  He looks up at me, eyebrows scrunched. “Where are you going?”

  “You know, gotta get to work. Get those assignments or whatever.”

  Devin blinks once and says, “I didn’t realize you’d be so eager.”

  “Gotta carry my weight,” I say, just about to turn around and flee.

  Then Devin says, “Okay, if you say so. We’re cleaning out the rehearsal room.”

  I freeze. Did he just say “we?” “Um, what?”

  “I mean, it’s been used all year to prep for shows, but that’s where the younger kids will be—”

  “You’re sure that’s my assignment?” I say, hoping he’ll say something like Oh, no, I was just babbling ’cause I’m a fool! Go find your real assignment.

  Instead, he shrugs and says, “I mean, I’m your supervisor, so—”

  “You’re my what? You’re like twelve.”

  He laughs, standing up. And yeah, he’s taller than me, which I didn’t realize before. “I’m actually seventeen,” he says, “but I’m part of the student board that hosts the camp. You ready?”

  Of course I’m fucking not, but I nod anyway because now I know my paycheck lies in the palm of his hand.

  Becca, I’m seething, and it’s not even directed at you. Text me back, please. I need to RANT.

  Not Delivered

  Devin puts on some indie rock music as we sweep out the rehearsal hall. It’s a pretty small room, and it’s obviously made for dancers since there are ballet barres and boxes upon boxes of costumes.

  “It doesn’t really matter how we package everything up because they’re going to go through it all again later. Just tape up the boxes and we’ll move them out of the room.”

  I nod, reaching for the packaging tape and stuffing as many stray costume elements as possible into each box. It’s pretty menial work, so at least I don’t have to put in a whole lot of effort.

  It sucks being stuck in here when I’d rather be answering Diary messages. My inbox has never gotten so many messages a day, and frankly, I’m falling behind on answering them. It’s like everyone wants a special peek into my relationship, and while I acknowledge that this is the price of stardom, I’m really running out of energy to keep up.

  I maintain a steady internal chant of Please don’t talk to me. Please don’t talk to me. Devin sits down a few feet over and starts packing up boxes, and our work is pleasantly silent.

  Then he says, “You’re only in Denver for the summer, right?”

  I just nod, keeping my face turned downward.

  “Have you had a chance to look around the city? There’s some cool stuff downtown and—”

  “I have a boyfriend,” I say, and it crash-lands into the middle of the room like a goddamn UFO.

  Devin blinks once and says, “Congratulations?”

  I shake my head, looking down before my cheeks can flush. “I just meant, he’s showing me around town. We’re making rounds.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  We fall into silence again, and I’m kind of relieved that I misread his small talk and he’s not actually trying to flirt with me. At least that’s one less thing to worry about.

  I’m half waiting for the rest of our team to show up and free me from captivity, but it looks like the crew is just Devin and me, which is basically everything I don’t want for the summer. He keeps making idle chitchat, and I do what I can to make it as obvious as possible that I don’t want to talk since I’m tired and stressed and not really a big fan of “work” in general, but the guy can’t take a damn hint.

  And really, I don’t want to snap at him and tell him to fuck off since I know one bad word from him will mean jobless Noah all over again, but between all the pressure from the Diary and not being able to reach Becca and the fact that my phone hasn’t picked up a single signal since I got in, it’s getting harder and harder to avoid. My only hope at this point is that I can stick around long enough for Georgette to give me a second chance when I finally do lose my shit and get a bad report.

  Until then, I just have to keep my head low. Or, well, in this case, nod enough to make it seem like I’m actually listening to a word he says. Then I can distract myself with thoughts of Drew or the Diary and just pray for the day to be over.

  Step 6: The Hesitation

  The moment you realize things are escalating and think, “This is too much,” only to strengthen the bond down the road.

  Inbox (937)

  Anonymous asked: Dear Noah, I love hearing about your relationship! I started following the Diary a year ago because it was amazing hearing about all these trans people finding love, but this honestly means so much more to me. It’s cool that trans people can find meet cutes, but long-lasting relationships like yours? It’s amazing! You’re a real icon, and I look up to you so much. Thank you for cultivating such a great relationship and letting us follow you through it. It means the world to so many of us.

  I don’t see Drew for the rest of the week. He tells me he has a lot of stuff to do at the shop, and then he’s supposed to be taking his brother to a concert or something, and there’s all this important stuff going on, but a part of me feels like he’s just avoiding me. I mean, how ridiculous was I the other night? And now he wants nothing to do with me because I turned him away. And frankly, after how eager he’s been to get involved with all the Diary stuff, it’s got me kind of freaked out. I was such a horrible date that he’s running scared, even more so than is natural for the Hesitation, and I don’t know what to do if he never wants to talk to me again.

  Friday’s the last day of orientation before the summer camp actually opens on Monday, so everyone’s bustling around and freaking out because there are so many things to get done. Devin and I basically finished setting everything up for the kids by Wednesday, so Friday morning, he brings in doughnuts and we just sit around doing nothing. I spend the
day scrolling through the Diary fan messages I screenshotted that morning since I knew I’d be without service. They’re sweet and gushing, and it’s like the Diary took on a whole new life once everyone found out I was one of the meet cute stories—like I’d become not only some moderator, but a fairy godfather out to bestow love among all young trans people on the internet.

  It’s weird, but nice, and people treat me like I’m some sort of god.

  And my stomach twists, because if Drew breaks up with me, it’s not just me on the line. It’s the Meet Cute Diary too.

  I remind myself that I’m just stuck in the Hesitation phase longer than I should be. After this comes the Tether, the unbreakable bond formed between us that’ll make our relationship stronger than ever. I just have to stop getting distracted and focus on keeping us on track.

  So when Drew texts me after work on Friday asking if I want to do something cool for the Diary on Saturday morning, I ignore the voice in the back of my head saying but we were going to sleep in! and tell him I’m down for anything. He says he’ll be by at eight to get me, and I spend the next hour and a half picking out an outfit. This is the point where Becca would usually step in, but I haven’t really heard from her either, so I’m on my own.

  Saturday morning, Drew takes me to Red Rocks, which I’ve heard about in theory but never seen in real life. It’s this outrageous amphitheater carved out of the mountainous landscape, and supposedly the concerts there are the coolest thing ever because of the natural reverb. There’s no concert going on, but people seem to have gotten up early to start their exercise routines. People jog, some do yoga, and a couple of random tourists stand around taking pictures.

  “This is beautiful,” I say, because it is, and I’m trying to get lost in it. It’s definitely a top ten make-all-my-friends-jealous-of-my-move-across-the-country photo location, but more importantly, I’m here with Drew.