Chapter Twenty-Five
This was not part of the plan.
The whole point of this “hangout” is so people can see Zarmenus and me spending time together, and this is by far the emptiest I have ever seen Northside Diner.
Normally it’s so crowded it’s hard to get a table, but tonight is a completely different story.
There’s no line, and it’s only about a quarter full.
Something else must be on campus that’s drawing the focus, and now I think we should find out what it is and go there instead.
TVs hanging from the ceiling are playing a football game, and the big windows look out at the pitch-black campus. Zarmenus is frowning at the dismal showing.
“Is it just me,” he says. “Or is it weirdly empty tonight?”
“I was just thinking that. Should we go?”
“Why?”
“Isn’t the point that people see us?”
“Good thing I get people talking wherever I go.”
He winks. It’s a little obnoxious, yes, but he’s correct. A few people have already noticed us, watching with no shame at all.
“Do you want to go?” he asks. “We can if you want.”
“No, I just thought you did. You looked disappointed.”
“What, no!” he says. “I was thinking about how much I love it here.”
His earnestness surprises me, even though I feel the same way. There’s something special about this diner and, to be honest, the entire Point campus. I wonder if everyone feels similarly for their college, or if Point truly is magical.
We reach the register, and I use some hand sanitizer. To the side is a glass cabinet filled with prepared meals of greasy food on paper plates. There are chicken tenders, fries, jalapeno poppers, mac and cheese balls, as well as slices of pizza that seem to be about as dry as pizza can be.
Even though all the food is the same shade of golden brown, and has been sitting out for who knows how long, it looks delicious.
The smell alone is enough to make my mouth water.
I buy a plate of tenders and Zarmenus buys a pepperoni pizza.
When we get our food, we walk over to the table where the sauces are kept in huge containers.
I pump some ketchup and some ranch onto my plate and watch in horror as Zarmenus pours what can only be described as way too much hot sauce onto his pizza.
“What?” he asks as he pours even more. And it’s not, like, buffalo sauce, either. The neon-red bottle has flames and skulls on it.
“That’s really spicy,” I say.
“Human food is pretty bland to me,” he says. “Spice helps.”
I guess that tracks. We go over to a table by the window and sit down. I try one of my chicken tenders, dipping it into the ranch before taking a bite. I feel like chicken tenders are one of the foods, like pizza, that can never be bad. Even the worst chicken tender is always pretty good.
What Zarmenus said was clearly correct; he is having no trouble eating his hot-sauce-drenched pizza.
“I’ve got to say,” says Zarmenus, “as dates go, this one isn’t too bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got pizza, and I’m with a cute guy,” he says as he stuffs his face. “What more could I want?”
I fight the blush. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it; he flirts with everyone, it’s just who he is. He doesn’t actually think I’m that cute. Or does he? What Maleilius said about us being attracted to each other rings through my mind.
“How about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“How does this compare to your other dates? Sorry, I mean hangouts.”
I’m presented with a choice, and I don’t like either option.
I know it’s not exactly abnormal to not have dated yet, and it’s also totally fine for people who don’t want to date at all.
But I do. It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time, and I’m not sure I’ll ever fully be over having my high school years be a blank slate when it comes to dating.
It’s like the race has already begun for so many people and I’m stuck at the starting line.
I want Zarmenus to think I’m cool. I also don’t want to lie to him. We’re lying to everyone else, the least we can do is be honest with each other.
“I haven’t really dated,” I say.
“Oh, really?”
I nod and take a bite from another chicken tender.
I mean, it’s one of those things that I’m sure is obvious to pretty much everyone.
At least, it was to my friends and people who saw me around school.
If I’d had a partner, they would’ve seen them.
Whenever I got asked about it at school, I generally played it coy, as if I had a secret that I didn’t want them to discover.
I liked the thought of people seeing me as someone who had an exciting secret side of my life.
I don’t want to project that onto Zarmenus.
For one, it’s totally false. And the thought of him knowing this vulnerable, raw side of me is way more exciting than him knowing the fake version of me.
Isn’t that the beauty of going somewhere new, where nobody knows your history?
There is nothing stopping you from being completely honest. You’re free to reinvent as much as you want.
“Why not?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Why haven’t you dated anyone?”
“It takes two to tango.”
“Yeah, but one generally needs to make the first move. Why haven’t you?”
I take back what I thought before. Yes, it is exciting that it is so difficult to predict what Zarmenus is going to say. It also leads to moments like this, where he asks a question that tips my whole world on its head.
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“I think it does,” he says. “Have you had any crushes?”
“A few.”
“But you never asked them out?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“None of them have been options, really.”
I wonder if this is a normal date conversation. I doubt it. If this were a real date, I don’t think we’d be delving into my crushes on other guys.
“Tell me about them,” he says.
“I’ve had three big crushes,” I say. I’ve told very few people about these crushes. Even Ashley only knows about the first two. “The first was on a guy called Bradley.”
Zarmenus steals a french fry from my plate. “Go on.”
“He was on the football team,” I say.
“Quarterback? People on human TV crush on quarterbacks all the time.”
“No, he was a right midfielder.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Anyway, he was, like, the nicest, most popular guy.”
“And hot, right?”
“So hot.”
“Okay, so you liked this hot football guy, I’m a little jealous. Did anything happen?”
“No, he was straight. The straightest. He had, like, three girlfriends.”
“At the same time? Progressive.”
“No, like, in a row. Everyone wanted to date him. My point is that he’s straight.
But sometimes I felt like he might’ve liked me.
I don’t know, sometimes there were these moments when he’d look at me or he’d laugh extra hard at a joke I made and it seemed like he was feeling what I was.
I’m sure it was all in my head, though.”
“You should’ve told him.”
“Fuck no. It could’ve ruined me.”
“Or he could’ve ruined you,” he says with a grin. “In a fun way. All right, so that’s crush one. Who’s crush two?”
“Ethan. He was in theater, and he was so thoughtful and smart and dreamy. We used to get the bus home together and whenever he’d sit next to me I thought my heart was going to explode.”
“Gay or?”
“Bi.”
“So why didn’t you make a move on him?”
“He didn’t think of me that way.”
“How do you know?”
“I could just tell,” I say. “He was flirty with pretty much everyone but never with me.”
It reminds me of a night two years ago. It was a house party, and I was only slightly tipsy.
I was at the peak of my crush. The whole day I’d been thinking about him, wondering what he thought of me, and if we’d talk at the party.
We were friendly, but I wouldn’t call us friends, and anytime he gave me attention I’d think about it for weeks.
I was sitting on the stairs while Ashley was in the bathroom, and Ethan came and sat next to me.
He sat so close that the sleeve of his shirt brushed against mine, and I remember wondering if it was possible to feel better about anything.
I seriously thought that moment might have been the best moment of my entire life.
He complimented me a few times, telling me my eyes were the prettiest he’d ever seen. Then Ashley came out of the bathroom and I didn’t know what to do so I just left.
“Wait,” says Zarmenus. “This boy sat so close to you that you were touching, then told you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen, and you don’t think he liked you?” He looks up into my eyes. “Wow, he’s right, your eyes are really pretty.”
“He didn’t like me,” I say, ignoring the compliment. “He was drunk, I don’t know. It’s not like he told me he’s into me.”
“He for sure liked you,” he says. “I know a lot about boys, and boys only say that stuff when they think of you in that way.”
I’ve lost so many hours of sleep thinking about how different my life would’ve been if I hadn’t left that night.
I don’t know if Ethan had a crush on me like I did, or if he was just looking for someone to hook up with, but that moment was something.
I’ve always known it. And I’ve always known that me leaving to go with Ashley sent a signal I wasn’t sure I wanted to send, and the result was, well, us spending less time together until my crush on him went away.
The memory is so vivid that I’m sure if I closed my eyes, it would feel like I’m right back on that staircase.
“I’m sensing a pattern,” he says. “You like guys, but you don’t tell them.”
“It’s never felt like the right time,” I say. “When it’s the right time to tell someone how I feel, I’ll know it.”
“Anyway, tell me about crush number three.”
This is the big one, the one I haven’t even told Ashley about.
I am very thankful this crush has faded.
I can still remember how strong those emotions were, but the crush itself is pretty much gone.
I tried so many things last year when it was at its peak, but it seems moving has been the thing to finally kill it.
“I’ve never told anyone about this one,” I say. “And if you meet my best friend Ashley you have to promise that you won’t tell her.”
“I’d never,” he says. “We’re really racking up the secrets, huh?”
“A while ago my best friend started dating this guy named Jackson,” I say.
“And he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.
And not in a fake, cloying kind of way. He was just so obviously smitten with her.
We all started spending a lot of time together, and it was really important to her that we be friends, so we started hanging out all the time and… ”
I let my silence answer the rest.
Zarmenus’s mouth drops open. Seems like he’s not the only one at this table capable of surprises.
“You got a crush on your best friend’s boyfriend?” He laughs. “Man, you humans are wild.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I say. “I never acted on it.”
“But you wanted to.”
“No, I didn’t. I hated that I felt that way. But the more I wanted to get rid of the crush, the worse it got.”
“Did you tell Ashley?”
“No,” I say. “Do you think I should’ve?”
“That’s tough,” he says. “I know you can’t control crushes. But how genuine can you be if you’re hiding how you really feel?”
“I know. Trust me, I know.”
“So what happened with him?” he asks. “Are he and your friend still together?”
“Yeah, she got pregnant, so she stayed in Bakersfield. She was supposed to be here with me, but, you know. Life happened.”
“Wow,” he says. “You’ve got a lot going on in that head of yours.”
“You have no idea.”
My phone vibrates. I check it, something I probably wouldn’t do if this were real. It’s a message from Tyrell.
Hey, all good if not but would you be free tomorrow for an interview? We could meet up at Northside if you’d like? Or anywhere you want really, my treat if you want somewhere that doesn’t accept meal plans ?
“What’s wrong?” asks Zarmenus.
“Tyrell wants to interview me about what it’s like living with you.”
“You can’t tell him we’re faking,” he says, keeping his voice low. “If we’re going to do this we have to keep this a secret from everyone. Seriously, Dad will kill me if they find out I’m lying. We have to make everyone believe it’s real.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t you think it’s risky?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I already said I would. It’s too early to tell him we’re dating, he won’t believe it. But I’ll start dropping hints. He already knows I think you’re hot.”
I realize what I just said and go bright red.
“You think I’m hot?”
“Yeah, I saw one of your thirst traps, it’s an objective fact.”
“Thanks, Greene. You’re hot, too.”
“In a clumsy-little-lamb way?”
“In all kinds of ways.”
Our food is nearly done now, and I find myself disappointed.
This conversation has been fun, and I’m not ready for it to be over.
I think about asking him if he’d like to keep this going, maybe stroll across campus and find somewhere that’s still open and sells ice cream.
Then I remember this is not real. It’s only so people can see us so we can sell our fake love story.
Even then there aren’t many people here so the whole thing is mainly pointless.
“How about you?” I ask. “Any crushes?”
“Nah, I don’t really do that.” He takes another fry from my plate. “Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“People are looking, it’ll sell it. Come on.”
I open my mouth, and he feeds me the french fry. I bite down, then check to the side. He was right, people are watching.
What I don’t understand is the fluttery feeling in my stomach.