Chapter 6 #3
Then I think Lucas said something about how it’s always been his dream to live in New York—which he’d never told me—and Tyler said something in a pretentious tone about New York being one of the best cities in the world, right up there with Paris and Tokyo.
But to be honest, I don’t remember exactly what he said, because my mind was racing.
Why was Tyler treating me like I was invisible?
Did I do something to make him mad before he moved away?
Was he mad that we hadn’t talked in six years?
I was pretty sure that had been his fault. His family moved away around the time Dad died, which had thrown my and Mom’s lives into pure chaos and awfulness. After things had settled a little bit, I’d looked up Tyler on social media but couldn’t find him on any of the platforms.
Tyler was so focused on Lucas that his back was to me, as if he was trying to edge me out of the conversation. It got to the point where I had to tap Tyler on the shoulder to get his attention again.
He turned to look at me, startled, as if he was surprised I was still standing there.
“Hey. Remember me?” I asked, sounding pathetic to myself.
Tyler made an O with his lips, squinted, and then pointed at me, as if literally trying to put a finger on my name. “Oh, duh—you’re Ben, right?”
It was surreal. Was he playing a prank on me? Or was he gaslighting me into thinking we hadn’t been friends? Why would anyone do that? And it wasn’t like he could have forgotten me—sixth grade was a while ago, but not long enough to forget an entire friendship.
Unless I was that easy to forget.
“Yeah, Ben Lim,” I mumbled, totally dumbstruck.
Tyler flashed a dazzling, self-deprecating grin. “Sorry. I’m not good with faces. You look totally different.”
I looked different?! I wasn’t the one who’d undergone a superhero transformation. I’m still Peter Parker before he got bitten by a radioactive spider.
Tyler gave me a hearty handshake—a handshake, not a hug—as if I was just an acquaintance.
If that had been the end to the indignities I’d suffer as a result of Tyler’s return to Sandy Springs, I would have been confused and sad for a few weeks but moved on with my life.
I mean, it sucked that I ended up seeing him all the time—he was in four of my classes and joined French Club and was nominated for alliance vice president despite being at Sandy Springs for five minutes and ignored me while hanging out with Topher and the gay jocks and even the popular straight people like Gaston and Nneka instead.
But the worst part, by far, was that from the moment Lucas laid eyes on Tyler, he started to pull away. It was the beginning of the end of us.
* * *
“Ben?” Tyler says, bringing me back to the present moment. Back to Paris—to the courtyard of the hostel from which we are officially locked out. “Were you going to tell me why I piss you off so much?”
“Oh,” I say, blinking. “No. Forget it. Not worth it.”
Tyler sighs. “Fine. Okay, then, what do you say? Can we be civil to each other for one night and go explore Paris?”
I look around the dark courtyard. I take a breath.
I could go off on my own and explore Paris without Tyler. Check off all the items on my to-do list in one night and be back here by morning.
But that didn’t go so well earlier tonight.
My French is terrible and my sense of direction worse.
And if Mom ever found out I was staying out all night—which, of course, I hope she never does—she’d like knowing I wasn’t alone.
Plus, if she knew I was with Tyler, who she does remember from when we were little, she’d like that even more.
Too bad she doesn’t know that Tyler moved back to Georgia.
I never got around to telling her, even though I tell Mom everything.
I had no problem telling her that I’m gay.
And after Lucas dumped me, I spent hours curled up in her lap crying as she stroked the hair around my temples.
But for some reason, I was too ashamed to tell her that my childhood bestie forgot me.
“You can choose where we go first,” Tyler speaks up. “Totally your call.”
Hmm. “Really?” I feel the smallest flicker of excitement. “Is the Louvre still open?” I ask.
Tyler checks the time on his phone. “Yes, it’s open until midnight tonight. We can still see the Mona Lisa, which I know you’re obsessed with—although I have to warn you, she might not be all you think she is.”
I look at him, so surprised that I forgive him for yet another swipe at my oil-painted diva. “You’re still up for going to the Louvre?” I ask. “Even though you’ve already been twice today?”
“I mean, the security there is probably going to think that I’m casing the place to plan my next big art heist … but I do feel bad for stranding you without a phone earlier.”
I glance back at him and sigh, fully aware that us getting locked out was at least 98 percent my fault. “It’s the least you can do,” I say.
“D’accord. Okay,” Tyler says. “Let’s go.”
We turn to leave the courtyard, and I glance back worriedly at the dark, creepy hostel. I feel all kinds of nervous. I guess this is really happening—Tyler Travers and me, stranded together in a foreign city for a night.
Or for as long as I can stand being with him.
I tell myself I can come back here if I need to. I can sleep in the courtyard. Or maybe I can find the American embassy and beg for help.
Or there’s always Disneyland Paris.