ease into the idea of what’s happening between us—it can’t be easy, given who my mother is—but it’s a challenge. All I want to do is see her.
I’m at my locker on Wednesday morning, minding my own business, when Conor’s grinning face peeks around the door. I ignore him, pull out my last textbook, and slam the door shut hard enough that he jumps back. He sent me about a million texts last night, trying to get the DL on what’s happening with May, but I never wrote back. I want the memories to be mine and mine alone for a little while longer.
“What do you want?”
His face falls. He’s like a giant puppy dog that just wants love. “You never responded to my texts last night, man! I know you’re in a May-induced coma, but c’mon. Bros before—”
I shoot him a warning glance. “I’d stop right there if I were you.”
He holds up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get you. I won’t speak ill of your GF.” He literally says the letters GF out loud. He’s so hard to take seriously sometimes.
I glance around to make sure May doesn’t happen to be within earshot. “Dude. She’s not my girlfriend!” I pause, because I don’t know what she is, except the person I think about more than anyone else in the world and the only person I want to talk to right now.
“Okay, well, your not-girlfriend, then.” He laughs like he just said something funny.
“You know, you have a terrible sense of humor.”
He rolls his eyes. “Lay off me, bro. I’m just excited for you. And once I get Lucy to say yes to a date with me, we can double. It’ll be so cute. Like something out of Riverdale.”
I snort. “I still cannot believe you watch that shit.”
“OMG, it’s good!”
I laugh. “You know, if all your adoring fans knew about your taste in TV and your use of ridiculous acronyms, I bet they’d reconsider your image.”
“That’s so binary of you, dude. Open your mind. Like, just because I’m a guy in a band, I need to act a certain way? You sound like Matt.”
I glare at him. “How dare you compare me to that dickwad.”
He smirks. “You asked for it. So…tell me about May. Do we like her? Lucy and I have a bet riding on your firstborn child—she thinks you’re going to name it after her, but I’m like, nah, man, they’re definitely gonna name it Conor.”
I bite back a grin and punch him in the arm. It’s a joking punch, but it lands hard. “Shut it.” I take off down the hall, leaving him rubbing his bicep and muttering protests in my wake.
In reality, things haven’t changed that much in the five days since Conor’s band played, but at the same time, it feels like everything has changed—most of all, the amount of times per minute my heart beats when I know May is nearby, followed closely by how much easier it is for me to get out of my car at school in the mornings.
* * *
—
I see May for the first time today outside drama class, lingering in the hallway, looking lost. When she catches sight of me, her face lights up for a split second before she shutters it under her normal expression of Whatever. But it’s a split second that will keep me going for weeks. No matter how up-and-down she might be, that expression is there, hiding under her steely exterior, and I’m the only person who gets to see it.
“Hey.” I shuffle over to her.
“Hey.” She blesses me with one of her rare smiles. I want to kiss her right here in the hallway, dip her over and plant one on her mouth like we’re a couple in a black-and-white photograph, but instead I settle for a quick squeeze of her forearm.
“Ready for drama?” My tone conveys how we both feel about the class.
She smirks. “Totally. Can’t wait to see Kowalski’s hair today. Should be interesting, since it’s raining.”