Aiden kissed a boy and saw stars. He was lying on his back in the grass, staring up at the night sky, and there were stars in it. There were also several clouds, though not as many as Aiden could wish for.
“Does it seem like hurricane weather to you?” asked Aiden.
“—you’re so hot?” said Whatshisface.
“Feels like the wind’s picking up a little though, right?”
“No,” murmured Aiden’s date. “Seems to me it’s going to be a really nice night.”
“Why would you say something like that?” Aiden demanded.
The boy gave him a somewhat quizzical glance. Aiden had to admit, he hadn’t been bringing his A game, so he stretched out languidly on the picnic blanket, laced his fingers through the boy’s long brown (red? It was dark out here) hair, and pulled him down for another kiss. The boy gave a soft, delighted sigh.
“I used to watch you in the halls,” the boy murmured in his ear, “and wonder… Did you ever think about me, too?”
Aiden wasn’t thinking about this boy now.
Before Aiden could say “So, this is awkward,” the boy kissed him again. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Hooking up made Aiden think of fencing, sometimes. The sheer physicality of it, the smooth, skilled movements flowing and arching to a victorious end. Knowing your opponent’s moves, weaknesses, what would get to them. Scoring all the points you could. And, in the end, turning away.
The boy began to unbutton Aiden’s shirt, and Aiden turned away from stars and kisses.
“Are you finding it difficult to concentrate?” Aiden asked, and the boy stilled, looking slightly helpless. Aiden grinned and shrugged. “Just me, I guess.”
When you weren’t feeling it, you weren’t feeling it.
Shortly after, Aiden found himself alone in his room, which hardly ever happened. On the rare occasions it did, Aiden was used to knowing where he could go to find Harvard and expect a warm welcome: at his house or hanging out with friends or in the salle. Tonight, Aiden couldn’t go be where Harvard was. Tonight, Harvard was on his stupid date.
Aiden decided he would take advantage of the peace and quiet to write his essay. He’d done some reading about what might be expected from this sort of assignment, and one idea had been life lessons Aiden had learned from trusted authority figures.
Aiden’s father had remarked once that some women were sports cars on the way to champagne brunch, and some were family vans headed to soccer practice. Aiden knew which his father preferred.
Aiden’s father didn’t actually talk to the women in his life, but Aiden did. Many of his dad’s girlfriends got lonely. They would chatter to Aiden in order to pass the time and fill the echoing Italian-marble rooms with some semblance of life.
Sometimes what they said was useful.
Heather the professional cheerleader, who could put her hair up into a high and sleek ponytail in two seconds flat, told him once, “Other girls on the squad say couples split because of money or cheating or fights, but I don’t think so. There’s only one reason relationships end: Somebody loses interest. And somebody always will. Just make sure you’re the one who loses interest first, Aidy.”
Aiden nodded shyly. “How do you make someone interested in the first place?”
Heather’s injection-paralyzed brow failed to wrinkle as she thought. “Don’t be too nice. Don’t care too much. Don’t let them be sure of you. Always be something different and gorgeous and fascinating, so they don’t know what to expect.”
“Like a chameleon?”
“Sure, if you’re always a beautiful chameleon. Just remember to be gone long before you lose a man’s interest, I always say!” Heather added, winking and laughing merrily at her own lovely face in the mirror.
Aiden was just a prop in the room back then, a slight, unremarkable kid only useful as an audience. The only person who really noticed him was Harvard, and Harvard noticed everybody.
Heather hadn’t taken her own advice. She’d lingered too long, and Aiden’s dad had ditched her with particular viciousness. Aiden had heard her crying as she left, seen the proud plume of her ponytail drooping as she’d climbed into the car. Aiden never let his own head drop like that.
What did it matter how people left? What mattered was that they did.
Aiden abandoned his essay and went to sulk cross-legged on his bed, pulling his bear into his lap for comfort.
It was almost ten o’clock at night. Harvard usually went to bed early so he could get up and practice, but Aiden supposed that wouldn’t be the case anymore. He’d have constant late nights now that he was dating.
“You might be in a single-parent family now, Harvard Paw,” Aiden told his bear. “I’ll do my best, but you know I’m not the responsible type. You’ll probably run wild from lack of supervision and eat picnics belonging to hikers. Or babies belonging to hikers. I don’t know, I foresee hiker-related tragedy ahead.”
Harvard must be having a wonderful time on his date. He had forsaken all his captainly duties in the pursuit of romance. Those freshmen needed him. Would nobody think of the freshmen? Aiden certainly wasn’t going to.
Just as Aiden was contemplating the demise of the entire fencing team, the door opened. Harvard walked in. He’d got dressed up for his date. He was wearing a nice button-down shirt and his gray wool coat, but the coat sat differently now than it usually did. His shoulders were slumped underneath it.
Aiden cast aside Harvard Paw and leaped up from the bed. Harvard barely seemed to notice. He shut the door, and then leaned back against it. Then he slid bonelessly to the floor.
“Aw, did the date go badly, buddy?”
—thank you, thank you, God, thank you—
“No?” Harvard offered, as though he weren’t sure.
“No?” echoed Aiden, who needed to be sure. “Did it go well?”
“I think…,” Harvard said at length. “I think… too well?”
“What does that mean?”
No answers were forthcoming; Harvard seemed to be in a state of shock. He just sat there, back against the door, staring at the wall.
Earlier, Aiden had casually called Harvard’s mother, acquired this awful girl’s full name, and found her on all forms of social media. She updated frequently, usually about the lousy music she enjoyed. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t already thought to check her accounts tonight.
There was a new post—a picture of Harvard looking adorable and attentive and holding a double scoop of chocolate ice cream. Underneath the picture was the caption When you think he might be THE ONE!!!!!! #bestnightever.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Aiden was perfectly aware, had always been burningly aware, that Harvard was one hundred percent boyfriend material. He’d dedicated his entire life to making sure nobody else caught on. Now all Aiden’s efforts had come to nothing.
“I know what to do!” Aiden declared. “Give me your phone. Right now. Don’t question me, this is an emergency.”
Harvard, seemingly on autopilot, handed over his phone. Aiden stared at it, devoting intense contemplation to the task ahead. Then he swept his hair back with one hand, and with the other he began to tap out some messages.
After seven minutes, he offered Harvard his phone back.
Harvard blinked at the phone as though he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. “What…”
“Congratulations!” Aiden told him. “You’re now blocked on every form of social media Shirley possesses.”
“Cindy,” murmured Harvard. “I’m what?”
That was the beauty of this result. Now that the girl was out of Harvard’s life, Aiden didn’t have to remember her name anymore. She had nothing to do with them.
Shock was clearing from Harvard’s face and being replaced with a gathering fury. There was no gratitude in this world.
“Aiden, what did you do? What did you say to her?”
Aiden shrugged lazily. “Nothing much. The usual stuff I say when I get impatient—the type of message that makes guys stop being infatuated and block me. I was going for speed and effectiveness, not finesse. And voilà. You’re welcome.”
His roommate scrolled through his own phone, making indignant faces at Aiden’s messages. When he came to one message in particular, he dropped his phone on the floor.
Yeah, Aiden might have gone too far with that one.
“I didn’t ask you to do this! I didn’t want you to do this. I would have let her down kindly but firmly,” said Harvard.
“I couldn’t take that chance,” muttered Aiden.
“Why did you do this?”
Aiden opened and closed his mouth, then opened it again and said decidedly, “You were upset. I was trying to solve your problem for you.”
“That wasn’t my problem.”
“Then—” Aiden said. “What was your problem?”
“I walked Cindy to her doorstep,” said Harvard slowly.
“For future reference,” Aiden suggested, “you can leave them at the gate. Or drop them off by the side of the road and say ‘See ya!’ That’s a real time-saver.”
Harvard gave Aiden a doubtful look. “Your success with men is a mystery to me.”
Aiden was aware. He forced himself to smile. “I’m sexually magnetic, so jot that down. Mystery solved.” Aiden clapped his hands together. “Proceed with your story!”
Harvard did so, his face now clouded with distress. Aiden had spent the whole night praying for clouds, but not these.
“We were standing together on her porch. She told me she’d had a great time. Then she sort of—swayed in toward me, and I could tell that. Uh. That she wanted to kiss me.”
Aiden had known this girl was bad news.
“You… kiss people all the time.” Harvard cleared his throat, slightly awkward. “Like, you’ve probably kissed someone within the last five minutes.”
Aiden tipped his hand back and forth. “Maybe an hour ago. Laurence.”
He wasn’t used to talking about kissing with Harvard. He refused to let it show this affected him.
“Wow, no, that was Byron,” Harvard informed him. “You were calling him Laurence? That’s worse than usual.”
“Really? Byron? You’d think I would remember a guy called Byron,” Aiden mused. “Anyway, enough of Byron. I won’t be seeing him again. We couldn’t even agree about the weather.”
Harvard looked out the window. “What’s to agree about? It’s a nice night.”
Aiden beamed approval at him. Harvard was so wise. “It is a nice night. And still early. Sorry your date was a lousy kisser, but what do you say we watch a movie and you can revisit dating another time?”
Such as college. Or grad school! You can’t hurry love. Sometimes, Aiden had heard, you just had to wait.
Harvard stated in a distant voice, “She wasn’t a lousy kisser.”
“Oh,” said Aiden. “She was a really great kisser?”
He regretted Cindy had already blocked Harvard. Aiden had more things to say to her.
“I don’t know. I didn’t kiss her,” Harvard told their floorboards. “She sort of swayed in toward me, and I panicked and I, uh, kissed her on the forehead and ruffled her hair and ran off.”
“Good call!” Aiden said. “There’s no need to rush this stuff. When you’re ready! Or never! Never is fine, too.”
He wondered idly how Harvard had got the Best Night Ever hashtag with a forehead kiss. No, he could picture how it had been. She must have thought Harvard was the last of the true gentlemen. She wasn’t wrong. Harvard had probably reached out and enfolded her in his arms, and she’d felt taken care of and cherished.
“I didn’t want to kiss her,” Harvard confessed very quietly.
“Why would you?” asked Aiden. “She has terrible taste in music and uses too many exclamation points!”
“I never…,” said Harvard. “I never thought about it before. I always thought I’d… want to one day? That it would feel right. But I don’t think I want to kiss girls at all.”
“Oh,” said Aiden. “Oh.”
They’d had this conversation before, from the opposite side. Harvard had assured Aiden of Harvard’s eternal friendship and how all kinds of love were beautiful, which hadn’t exactly been what Aiden was looking for.
Aiden couldn’t believe this was happening. He was too surprised to be supportive.
“So… you might want to kiss guys?”
“I—maybe?” said Harvard. “I think… yes?”
As statements of ringing certainty went, this one left something to be desired. Still, it was more than Aiden had at the start of the night. Aiden remained in a place of dazed disbelief.
“Welcome to the club?” Aiden hazarded. “It’s a sexy club.”
Aiden shot Harvard Paw an incredulous look, to see if someone else was getting this. His stuffed bear had fallen over on his side. Aiden was fully in sympathy with the bear.
When his gaze returned to Harvard, he was smiling weakly. Harvard’s wider smiles embraced everyone, but these small grins were exclusively for Aiden. “Thanks, buddy.”
If Harvard felt better, Aiden felt better.
Maybe…, Aiden thought through the shock, testing the thoughts out in his mind as if he were rehearsing lines for a play to see if a role felt right. Maybe this is great.
Harvard wasn’t going to marry Stacey with the bad taste in music and settle down in a house featuring a white picket fence and two point five golden retrievers. Aiden was saved.
“I think you know who you should talk to about this,” Aiden purred encouragingly. “Lucky for you, there’s an expert on hand.”
“Yeah,” mumbled Harvard, and scooped up his phone from the floor.
Aiden watched in disbelief as Harvard rang the second contact on his phone.
“Hey, Mom. Just called to say I love you. And, uh… Do any of your friends have a son my age? Who might be interested in going on a date? With me?”
Aiden sat down hard on their bedroom floor. He tried to have a heart attack in a cool and collected fashion.