Chapter 18 Saylor
Saylor
I need an off switch because I think I just friend zoned Heaven.
That is like the last thing I wanted to do, but my mouth and my brain were out of alignment and I just could not shut up!
The only thing that got me through the last day and a half was daydreaming about her and going back to her new IG profile again.
I’m weirdly proud of her for getting it started.
The crush is so much worse. I know it’s not going to go away, especially if I keep hanging out with her, and that’s all I want to do.
I was keeping those intense feelings buttoned up nice and tight.
I really was, but I knew I was doomed as I was marching her out of our kitchen.
I made the mistake of really looking at Heaven’s butt.
She’s in a black cropped tour T-shirt and a pair of high-waist baggy jeans.
I know what she said about people giving her a complex about her thighs, but boy were they wrong.
I can’t imagine having thighs like that.
I have boobs, but my legs are like sticks.
I have a butt, but it’s small. I’d wear even shorter shorts if I had curves like Heaven’s.
I feel kind of like a pervert, but we’ll just file these under “thoughts that I should keep to myself.” Then I realized how bad I am, ogling her like that.
I never looked at Rhys or Jake that way.
Tagger either. So yeah, definitely gay. Definitely down bad for Heaven.
And then I almost told her. I almost blurted out how cute I think she is.
How much I like her. But the warning alarms went off in my head, and instead I said all that corny stuff about giving her a nickname.
She probably thinks I’m just being silly and mildly annoying, but is that worse than her knowing the truth?
I look out the window, giving my mouth a two-second rest before I say something worse.
Heaven turns up the Beyoncé coming through the speakers, and I think maybe she needs a break too.
She’s a good driver, I think as we head toward Miracle Mile.
She’s confident behind the wheel and doesn’t even seem to need the maps app.
Something about that is kinda hot, but I know I’ll embarrass her if I say anything about it.
I think it would qualify as perceiving her.
I turn back toward the window to hide my smile and the laugh that wants to escape.
Heaven doesn’t need to know how obsessed I am.
She doesn’t need to know that princess isn’t a good enough nickname for me. Only Goddess of My Universe will do.
I snort, pressing my knuckles against my lips.
“What?” Heaven says.
I turn around and look at her. She’s kind of tense gripping the steering wheel. “Oh, I was just trying to think about how to convince you to watch Love Island with me again.”
“I thought I was your friend,” she says, relaxing a little bit. “Why would you want to do that to me?”
I just shake my head and smile. How can I not like her? She’s so cranky and cute. So cute that I’m actually looking forward to spending the day at a museum with her.
“I’ve already looked up some of the exhibits,” I tell her. “And I want to check out the gift shop.”
“Not a problem,” she replies as she turns down Fairfax. “The museum is big, but like, not that big. We can check out the whole thing and go to the gift shop. I promised my dad I’d grab him something too.”
“Okay,” I say, bouncing in my seat a little. An artsy day date with the artsy girl I am not at all dating. It’s gonna be amazing.
Heaven parks in the underground parking garage.
I smile to myself as she tucks the parking ticket carefully in the checkered crossbody bag she has with her.
I smile wider when I realize it’s a Vans bag.
She should really talk to them about a brand partnership.
We take the elevator up to the courtyard and join the other people milling about.
It’s a weekday, so it’s not packed, but there are plenty of people around.
We walk by these cool sculptures, Circle of Animals, detailed metal sculptures of animal heads of the Chinese zodiac.
I learned that from the museum website. Heaven pulls out her phone and takes a picture of the rooster and the rabbit before we keep walking.
We make our way over to the ticket podium and then head up the escalator to the top floor.
I look down at the light installation facing Wilshire, thinking of how Cristine Ford would make us spend at least an hour out in the heat making content with those lights.
She’s done it before. Of course, we made content at the museum and never went inside.
Still, I take a cool picture of the light posts from above.
I take a nice picture for me to enjoy myself, not to show off to millions of randoms on the internet.
“We can make content on the way out,” Heaven teases. I look up at her, two moving steps above me, wondering how she read my mind.
“Uh, no thank you. This is a content-free day. My mom tried to get me for an ‘outfit of the day’ video this morning, but I refused.”
She doesn’t say anything back. She just bites her lip and looks down at my phone clutched in my hand.
I slip it in my back pocket like I’m making a promise to us both.
We get off the escalator and turn into the modern art exhibit.
There’s an older Black woman in a dark blazer standing by the entrance.
I say a quiet hello to her, and she tells us to enjoy ourselves.
We make our way through the first room. There are so many cool pieces.
Sculptures of human figures on platforms. Heaven stops and looks at different pieces, but she doesn’t say anything.
Around the next corner Heaven stops at this big painting of what looks like three adults with deep brown skin and a baby praying.
There are bright white calla lilies behind them. Heaven takes a picture of that one.
She keeps walking, and I stop and look at the information on the artist. I scan the QR code and take a picture of my own, so I don’t forget.
Heaven moves across the room and stops in front of a painting of a cow skull with a rose.
She seems pretty focused on it, so I take a quick selfie in front of the big opening that leads to the next part of the gallery.
I quickly send it to my mom so she knows we are actually at the museum.
When I look up, Heaven has turned back around and she’s watching me.
I flash a big smile in her direction and tuck my left hand behind my back and tuck my cast against my chest. I walk over to a wall of photographs, recent portraits of different people.
I stop and look at one of a beautiful Black woman with dark skin and short locs.
I kinda get lost staring at her face and her bright green shirt.
“Why are you walking like that? You look like my grandpa out for a morning stroll,” Heaven asks quietly. I look over my shoulder, not expecting her to be right behind me.
“Walking like what?”
“Like my Korean grandpa checking on his garden.”
I straighten up and drop my arms. “I don’t know. I’m just keeping my hands to myself.”
“Is not stealing a painting that hard?” she whispers like she’s actually worried I’m planning an art heist.
“No.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing too loud.
“I have to do something with my hands. I’m touchy-feely, remember?
You think it’s so gross when I’m always touching my friends.
I’m sure you would think that includes hand-holding.
I’m just holding myself, I guess. And yeah, touching some of the art is tempting.
I wanna see if the paint is still gooey even though I know it’s not. ”
Only one of Heaven’s eyebrows shoots up. “So, if you were here with one of your friends, like Bethany or Tatum or whatever, you’d walk around the museum holding their hand?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“What if—if people think you’re together? Like a couple,” she asks in the cutest way ever. How does she not know how adorable she is?
“Who cares if people think we’re together? If I’m holding Bethany’s hand or Tatum’s, it doesn’t change the fact that they are actually dating other people.”
“Hmmm, I guess you’re right.” Heaven tucks her lips in like she knows she should drop it, but she doesn’t know if she can, and now I’m curious.
“Does it bother you that much?” I ask her.
“No. No—never mind.”
“I’m not trying to be pushy, but you brought it up. Tell me.”
“Nothing. I just— I’m not like that with Jake and Axel.”
“Yeah, ’cause they’re boys and unfortunately our society’s version of male physical affection involves spitting or punching each other in the face.”
She snorts and I know I’m right again.
“Here. I’m going to hug you. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Her eyes go wide and she swallows like her throat is suddenly jammed, but she doesn’t run away or give me the stiff arm. “Uh, alright. You can hug me, I guess.”
“Okay. Here I come.”
I step forward and hug her, the best I can with one arm in a cast. I’m trying to prove a point, but also I am a hugger, and the fact that we’ve been in each other’s orbit for like eight months and she’s never let me hug her is driving me insane.
There’s also the crush, but we are ignoring the crush.
This hug is for scientific purposes only.
She’s stiff at first, but then she starts to loosen up.
People are walking by us and I’m sure this is the worst way she can imagine being perceived.
But either I’m hugging her or I’m running back to get my fingerprints all over a Picasso.
I let out a deep breath and squeeze her harder, and then it happens.
She rests her chin on my shoulder. I hold on, just for a few more seconds, reminding myself over and over that this crush is one-sided, and when I pull back from the hug, the absolute last thing I should do is something wild like kiss her.
When I step back, I take in every inch of her face.
She’s definitely blushing, her brown skin heightened with color.
I am also warm all over and really want to hug her again. And kiss her.
“Put aside the fact that we’ve only been BFFs for like an hour, that was nice, right?” I mean, I get Heaven can be a cranky storm cloud. Still, I refuse to believe she never wants to be hugged. Not if she’s hugging people back like that.
“I guess it’s alright.”
“Another time, I’ll show you how nice it is to cuddle with your friends while you watch a movie. I cuddle with Bets and Tatum all the time. And Glory when she’s not wrapped around Landon.”
Heaven swallows hard again and just nods.
I flash her another smile and turn to walk to the next portrait hanging on the wall.
I make it about half a step before Heaven grabs my hand.
I know it doesn’t mean anything. She probably doesn’t trust me not to pull the gold frame off the wall and tuck it under my arm.
It means everything to the crush-sick part of my pathetic brain.
Heaven Goo-Campbell is touching my hand on purpose.
And then she does an extra crazy dangerous thing and laces our fingers together.
“We’re bingo buddies, right?” she says before she swallows again. My whole body bursts into flames. Or at least that’s how it feels. That usually doesn’t happen when I hold hands with my friends. Or any of the boys I’ve dated before.
“Yeah, that’s true,” I manage to say, keeping it real cool.
Heaven nods and leads me over to the next photo. I’m gonna have a crush on her until I’m fifty if she keeps this up.