Josey has to drive to school separately, since I still have my mom's car. We meet in the parking lot. We walk into the store joined together—one of Theo's arms around each of our shoulders, and my hand and Josey's hand linked tightly behind his back.
Here we go.
26
We're ostentatious all day. But it isn't like one of those high school movies where everyone turns when you walk through the hallways and starts whispering to each other, because we were social outcasts before and they didn't care about us they aren't easily compelled to suddenly start. No one notices our closeness because they're not used to noticing us at all. Plus, the three of us have very different class schedules, so it's not as if we have many opportunities to show off.
By the time we're sitting down at lunch, though, we are getting a few of those behind the hand whispers.
The weird thing is I'm kind of into it. I feel terrified and famous.
Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot we can do just sitting at our table on the plastic benches that don't leave a lot of room for creative polyamorous cuddling.
We eat for about five minutes before Josey slaps her hands on the table, says, “Come on,” and hauls us both up. She laces the fingers of one hand through Theo's, the other through mine, and says, “Go at it, kids.”
Theo looks at me, and I look at him, and it reminds me so much of that first night at the Halloween party, that first kiss, and I'm suddenly shy and small again.
He brings his hand—still locked with Josey's—up to my chin and tilts my head up, and that's enough to snap me out of it. I kiss him.
When we break away, it's a bit quieter in the cafeteria than it was before. I can hear the blood in my ears, as clearly as when you cup a seashell over your ear to hear the ocean.
They're definitely looking now.
“We did it,” Theo whispers, and I am proud of us.
Not knowing exactly what everyone's whispering starts to drive me a little insane, so I corner Elisha by her locker a little bit.
“You could have told me I wasn't picking you up today,” she says. “I had a very awkward conversation with your mother.”
“Shit, I'm sorry.”
She shrugs and closes her locker. “It's okay. Definitely looks like you were busy.”
Probably not quite in the way she thinks, but it's okay. People don't really need to know about my sex life. “So are you freaked out?” I say.
“Eh.” She hoists her books up before they fall. “I kind of figured.”
“What?”
“You're hanging around a couple all the time and you and the guy are totally screwing each other with your eyes, and the girl obviously didn't care. And then she stops hanging out with you and then starts again and you two are eye-screwing even more than you were before whether or not she's around. It's pretty obvious there's some kind of set-up.”
“Did everyone know?”
“Not sure I ever talked about it with anyone. Maybe asked Mike if he noticed it. Can't remember. I thought about doing it.”
It kind of hits me how self-centered I've been. Not really in the gross way, where you treat other people like crap, but self-centered anyway. Because I really thought people would care about my relationship. I thought that they would be disgusted or titillated or at the very least interested, and maybe some of them are for today, but some of them also aren't. And tomorrow there will be something new to care about for a day.
And Elisha's okay with it, and Aanya was at least kind of okay with it, and Lucas (who I haven't seen all day—I think he might have stayed home, but it's not the first time I haven't run into him over the course of the day) was okay with it. Really so far it's only been my mom who's had that immediate revulsion, but she's a different generation, I guess.
I end up relaying this all to Mike before math class starts, because he's around, and he sits there looking generally unsurprised.
“You haven't noticed this about yourself?” he says, once I finally pause for breath.
“What?”
“Taylor, I like you, but it's hard to talk to you sometimes. You say these sarcastic things when I'm trying to be serious. I can barely mention anyone because you always have something snarky to say about them. Even people you don't know.”
“I don't...” I don't know how to explain this, is really the only way to finish that sentence. “I don't mean a lot of those things,” I say. “I just say them because I think they're funny or they sound good.”
“Right, and sometimes they are, but...I don't know. I think you judge people really quickly. And I think you really don't change your mind, even when they sort of prove you wrong.”
“That's not true.”
He says, “How long did you know me before you decided I was in love with you?”
“Ummm...” Awkward. So awkward. “I don't know. Not very long, I guess.”
“Like, a few minutes, right?”
“I guess...”
“See, there you go.”
“So, wait, you're, you know. Not?”
He laughs a little. “I'm like, totally obsessed with Elisha. Come on, anyone can see that. Even she can probably see that.”
Well. Fantastic job, Taylor.
“Give your mom a chance,” he says. “Did you really even give her a minute to work through it, or did you start getting defensive with her right away?”
It's pretty telling that he gleaned this only through hearing my side of the story. Whether or not it's entirely true, it's a pretty legitimate possibility. And it's one that, despite the criticism, makes me a
