I have no idea how to respond to this information. Oliver stress-cleaned…because of me?
“So.” Drew takes a slow sip of his beer. “Lunar eclipse, huh?”
“Yes. The moon will pass through Earth’s umbral shadow, resulting in?—”
“Fascinating.” Drew’s tone tells me he finds it anything but. “And you need Oliver for this because…”
“He asked to come. He said he wanted to learn about the things I care about.”
Gerard clutches his chest dramatically. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not romantic. It’s educational.”
“Educational.” Drew draws out the word exactly the way I’ve heard Jackson do when he’s being sarcastic. “That’s exactly what Oliver said. Is that what the cool kids are calling it now?”
Heat floods my cheeks. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m standing in the middle of the Hockey House living room, being interrogated by two people who clearly think they know something I don’t. “What exactly are you implying?”
“We’re notimplyinganything.” Gerard’s grin widens. “We’restating.Explicitly. You and Oliver are going on a date.”
“It’s not a date.”
“You’re spending the night alone together under the stars.”
“For scientific observation.”
“He cleaned the kitchen for you.”
“That seems like a personal choice unrelated to?—”
“He ironed his shirt.” Drew leans forward, eyes glinting. “I’ve known him for three years, and I’ve never once seen him touch an iron. He’s probably checking his reflection for thefortieth time.”
My heart does something new. Flutter, maybe. Or a full cardiac event. “That doesn’t mean?—”
“Ryan.” Gerard’s voice softens, losing some of its manic energy. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly. Bestie to bestie.”
“We’ve known each other for a semester.”
He swats an invisible fly. “Irrelevant. Do you like Oliver?”
The question is like a grenade with the pin pulled.Dangerous.I should deflect. Employ any of the dozens of avoidance tactics I’ve perfected over two decades of emotional self-preservation. Instead, I hear myself say, “I’ve liked Oliver since I was ten years old.”
The admission escapes before I can stop it, and my chest cracks open. Gerard’s eyes go wide. Drew nearly drops his beer.
“He was my best friend. My only friend, really. And then my dad got reassigned, we moved, and I never talked to him again until this year. I remember the first time I saw him here. It was from across the quad, and I panicked. I’d spent years convincing myself that the friendship we had was just a childhood thing, that it didn’t mean anything, that he’d forgotten all about me.” I’m rambling now, the words spilling out faster than I can control them. “So I avoided him. I was terrified that if I got close again, if I let myself care again, I’d lose him forever.”
“Ryan.” Gerard’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle. “That’s really sad.”
“I know.”
“Like, really, really sad.”
“Iknow.”
“Like, I want to hug you, but also I want to shake you for wasting the years?—”
“Gerard.” Oliver’s voice cuts through from the stairway, sharp with exasperation. “What are you doing?”
We all turn to see Oliver descending the stairs. His dark hair is devoid of its usual spikes, and his green eyes are fixed on the six-five behemoth of a man with an expressionthat promises retribution. He’s traded his usual clothes for a forest-green polo, dark-colored shorts that look brand-new, and black flip-flops.
